Icky, but kind of necesssary...

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. Never has been, never will be.

Menstrual cycles are tricky little buggers sometimes. Don't worry, I'm not going to go into full on gross detail about this, but seriously, when you're trying to get pregnant through any method, natural or… syringe induced, you need to be mathematically competent and constantly prepared. So, being mathematically incompetent and constantly busy due to the research for my thesis, I was taking ovulation tests like crazy. The doctor said I shouldn't, but whatever. The doctor also told me caffeine was off limit during the pregnancy. I had a little cry over that one. I can live without my alcohol, but not my caffeine.

Anyways, I'd mastered the art of peeing on a stick pretty early on in this whole experience (go me!) so this seemed the easiest way. About 3 weeks after the whole drunken crying jump hugging episode, I got the go ahead from one of these little sticks, and it was time to commence the baby making. In a completely scientific and not fun way.

Medical clinics are not places I feel comfortable in. Especially not ones with graphic diagrams of the female reproductive system on the wall. I mean, seriously, what's wrong with a cute picture of a baby? Still relevant! I may be a scientist, but I do cells, not whole bodies. This was not my element. It seemed to be Kurt's element though. He was sat there with a smug little smile on his face, cooing at every baby that came into the room and chatting with every person who sat in a two chair radius. Blaine, however, looked even worse than me. I don't see why, all he had to do was go into a comfy room and, erm, deposit some of his swimmers into a cup. Not hard. Well, not for too long… (Sorry!) I had to, well… you can guess, surely? I'm not going into details in this thing. Anyway, Blaine looked like he was about to throw up or cry. I tried to comfort him, but to be honest, I had no sympathy. Why should I? Kurt finally noticed his husband's discomfort, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but it was a little too late.

'Blaine Anderson?'

The nurse was kindly and had a gentle smile, but Blaine was looking at her like she was the headless horse(wo)man of the apocalypse. He turned to Kurt, his features twisted into a look of panic, and started hurriedly whispering. I, obviously, eavesdropped.

'I can't do this Kurt. What if they're not good enough? What if I don't do it right? You should do it.'

Kurt was quite clearly trying to suppress laughter, but comforted his husband anyway.

'Baby, they already tested your little guys, and they're perfectly fine. And I'm pretty damn sure you can't mess this up, love. And we discussed this ages ago, you're the biological father, and if we decide we want another baby sometime in the future, I will be, and you'll be the one giggling at me for saying such silly things, okay?'

Blaine, somewhat mollified (and offended) by these words, stood and followed headless horsewoman nurse down the corridor and out of our sight.

Kurt chuckled as his gaze strayed from where his husband had just disappeared to and onto my face.

'I don't know why he's nervous. His part isn't difficult. I feel sorry for you, Kim. Thank you for doing this'

These men said thank you to me possibly over two hundred times between the day I agreed to the surrogacy, and the, for want of a less technical and more fluffy, lovely term, insemination (yuck…). It was sweet and sincere, but it's more than a little frustrating to say 'You're welcome' over and over when they knew that was what I was going to say every single time. Or maybe they really thought I'd just change my mind one day. Either way, I just carried on talking normally.

'I plan on just ignoring whatever they do to me and listening to the immenseness of Freddie Mercury on my iPod until it's all over'

Kurt took my hand, and went back to the copy of Good Housekeeping from two years ago that he found on the magazine table. Honestly, this is a private clinic, update your media people!

'Kimberley Miller'

I extracted my hand, grabbed my (beautiful, well made, quite obviously a gift and not bought on my pathetic postgrad student budget) bag from the floor, and started to walk towards the nurse (not headless horsewoman, a new one), before I felt a soft hand grab my wrist. I span around and began to ask what was wrong before Kurt enveloped me in a tight, warm hug. We hadn't hugged since that fateful, hungover morning, our friendship just hadn't progressed that far, but Kurt obviously felt that it had then, and held me for a long moment before letting me go with tears falling down his rosy cheeks.

'Good luck, and thank you, Kim. I'll never stop thanking you.'

I nodded my thanks back, because truthfully I was a little choked up to be able to speak at that moment, and followed new nurse to my fate. Or Treatment Room 4, whatever.