A/N: I will probably write an epilogue to this eventually and end the story after one more chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one. Please let me know what you think.

April 2021

I drop my keys on the table next to the door and listen to the unusual quiet in my house for a moment. "Babe?" I call out as I kick off my shoes and begin a quick search for my wife. No Quinn in the kitchen, bedroom, or office. Perplexed, I walk to the back door and look out, finally spotting my beautiful blonde leaning against the railing of our deck, looking out at the sunset. Quinn turns and smiles broadly when I open the door and walk outside.

"Hi," she breathes out, still smiling.

"Hey babe," I respond, somewhat confused by her reaction to seeing me. We've been married for almost 4 years, and certainly still have a lot of passion for each other, but she seems absolutely thrilled to see me.

I give her a light hello kiss and am surprised to find that her lips are trembling slightly. I lean back and study her face carefully. Something is going on, and I'm slightly alarmed by my wife's odd behavior. Quinn gazes steadily back at me with an expression of absolute peace, like everything fell into place after I left this morning.

Suddenly, it hits me. My eyes widen and I refocus my vision on Quinn. She sees the hopeful realization in my eyes and nods as tears flood her eyes and she whispers, "I'm pregnant, San."

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" I am laughing in disbelief and joy as I pull my wife into a tearful, happy kiss.

We've been trying to get pregnant for over six months, our concern growing with each unsuccessful attempt. Quinn has taken it especially hard each time, trying to brush off her disappointment with the same "if only it had been this difficult the first time" joke for the past three months. Normally, she has been expectant and excited after each insemination, but this month she has been far more subdued. Still, I can't believe this wasn't the first possibility I thought of when I noticed Quinn acting strangely.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Page next week, but…I'm four days late and I took two different tests…" Quinn tells me with a breathless nervousness, as if she's suddenly afraid that all of this evidence could be wrong.

I smile and take her face in my hands, my eyes intent on hers. "Baby…Dr. Page is going to tell us what you already know to be true. We're going to be parents, and I couldn't be more thrilled to start a family with you."

Quinn kisses me lightly and leans her forehead against mine, her hazel eyes closing as she whispers, "finally."

Finally.

10 weeks

"Are you okay, babe?" I ask the bathroom door, worried.

I hear violent vomiting on the other side and cringe, my concern growing as I listen to my wife retch and cough. It's quiet for a moment, then I hear an exhausted, "yeah babe." The toilet flushes and the door pops open to allow me in. I observe Quinn as she aggressively brushes her teeth and then rinses with Listerine. She glances at me as she wipes her face on a towel and laughs.

"Santana, you're going to age 15 years during this pregnancy if you get this worried every time I have morning sickness. It's natural, lots of women experience it. I'm fine, and so is the baby." Quinn's confidence is reassuring, but I remain somewhat skeptical. It can't be good to puke this much.

"If you say so, babe. Can I get you anything? Maybe something to eat?" I ask, feeling helpless.

"No, I'm g-" Quinn begins before throwing herself over the toilet once more. Instinctually, I want to kneel beside her and rub her back or something, but I learned way back in high school that when Quinn is praying to the porcelain gods, she prefers to be left alone. I quietly back out of the bathroom and head through our bedroom to the kitchen.

I stare into the fridge and wonder what would be a good option for my wife's sensitive stomach. Nothing seems suitable at all. I locate coffee creamer that probably needs to be thrown away and suddenly long for a hot cup of coffee. I quietly rue my decision to join Quinn in giving it up during her pregnancy as I remove my favorite flavored creamer (expired last month) and throw it in the trash.

"Babe!" Quinn yells from the back of the house, probably with her toothbrush stuck in her mouth again.

"Yeah?!"

"Do we have Cheerios?!"

I look through the cabinets and find, to my relief, both plain and honey nut Cheerios.

"Yeah!"

I quickly place two bowls and spoons on the table, along with both boxes of cereal, whole milk, and skim milk. Quinn will almost certainly make a face at the whole milk, but she knows it's a better option for her and the baby than skim. I pour myself some plain Cheerios and cut up a banana to put in my bowl. Just as I'm adding the skim milk, my wife emerges and sits down at the table with me. She regards the two cereal boxes as if making a life altering decision before selecting honey nut. As expected, she wrinkles her nose as she adds whole milk to her cereal, but doesn't complain. I watch her take a humongous scoop of cereal to her mouth and have to suppress a smile. Quinn glances in my direction as she chews the abundance of Cheerios in her mouth, and I see the corner of her lips twitch upward as she realizes how ridiculous she looks.

"Feel better?" I ask, with just a hint of humor in my voice.

Quinn nods as she swallows her food. "Yes, babe. Thanks for putting breakfast out."

"Of course," I respond, handing her the morning paper after removing the Lifestyle section.

We eat and read in silence except for occasional commentary on something interesting in the paper. When we've both finished, I get up to clear the table, but Quinn stops me.

"I can get this, go get ready for work."

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

My wife stands and gives me a light kiss. "I'm sure. You've been amazing about taking care of me, thank you." She gives me another kiss and sends me on my way.

I shower and dress fairly quickly, taking considerably longer to dry my hair and apply my make-up. When I emerge from the bedroom ready to go, I immediately detect the glorious scent of fresh brewed coffee. It pulls me towards the kitchen, where I find my wife pouring a large to-go mug.

"We're all out of creamer," she tells me apologetically, "but I added a little bit of milk and sugar for you. Hopefully it tastes okay."

"Babe…but we're supposed to be cutting coffee out together," I offer, trying to sound committed to the cause and failing miserably.

"Trust me, I miss coffee and am extremely jealous that you can drink it, but I figure every now and then it's okay if you cheat. Especially because you've been so supportive with barely even a hint of whining. So take the coffee and enjoy it for both of us, yes?"

I nod and lean in for a quick kiss as I take the mug from her. "So listen, I have a writing session all morning and then lunch with Rachel, but my afternoon is hopefully going to be pretty light so I should be home fairly early. How's your day look?"

"I'll be at the gallery for a few hours, then I'm picking up the paint swatches for the baby's room. Oh, that reminds me, Rachel wanted to see the pictures from the last ultrasound. Grab them off the fridge before you go. You know she's going to keep one, so just make sure she doesn't take the very best one okay?"

"Of course. If I have my way she'll get the one where the baby turned and all you can see is his or her butt," I snark as I take the pictures off the fridge and carefully fold them for safekeeping in my purse.

Quinn laughs at my mock rudeness. "I would pay a pretty penny to see Rachel's face when she realizes you gave her a butt pic."

"God, I'd never hear the end of it. Okay, I'm gonna head out. Need me to pick anything up on my way back?"

"Not that I can think of now. Drive safe," my wife admonishes seriously.

"I will baby. I love you," I tell her.

"Love you too," she answers with a quick kiss.

5 months

"Santana, please tell me. You know how hormonal I am, do you really think a surprise baby shower is a good idea?"

I sigh heavily and turn to face Quinn. "Seriously, I don't know. All Rachel has told me is that she thinks a baby shower would be a good excuse to get everyone together. I told her it wasn't necessary, that we'd be happy just to have a little get together with the girls and call it good. That was it, she didn't elaborate further or ask me to plan something. It was just mentioned in passing."

Sometimes I'm grateful that I've always been a smooth liar, and this is one of those moments. I used to think it made me a sociopath that I could be so convincing, but as I got older I realized that being a good liar isn't a bad thing if you only use it for good reasons. Like surprising your wife the very next day with a baby shower.

Quinn is studying my expression with the intensity of a bomb technician trying to defuse a nuke. If anyone can see through me, it's her, but I think I have her convinced. My explanation makes more sense than the truth in this case. Pretending to be annoyed because Rachel is trying to take charge of a party I don't want to have is probably the easiest lie I've ever told, simply because it has already actually happened so many times.

Finally, my wife seems satisfied and settles herself back against her pillow. "Maybe we should invite her to come stay for a couple of days. She could probably use some time away from the city, and we could try to squeeze some info out of her," Quinn offers as she picks her book back up.

"That might not be a bad idea," I respond as I turn the volume on the TV up slightly. By some miracle, I manage to keep from smiling and instead add, "I'll give her a call tomorrow."

8 months

Quinn's head rests comfortably on my stomach as we lie on the floor in the baby's finished nursery. She turns and looks up at me with a twinkle in her eye that distracts me from what she just said.

"I'm sorry, what was that babe?"

"Avery. What do you think?"

My immediate reaction is a strong no, but I've learned in the baby naming realm that it's best to draw middle ground. "I don't know, maybe as a middle name. I don't immediately love it."

Quinn nods, accepting this assessment without argument. She returns to the book of names in her hands. I lift my head and adjust the pillow behind it. An idea floats into my mind and I say it aloud without thinking.

"Alma."

My wife turns her head to look at me. "Really?"

"I don't know, maybe. Or it could be a possible middle name. I'm just throwing it out there," I say dismissively as I avert my gaze to the ceiling. I can feel Quinn's eyes still on me, but pretend I don't notice. My grandmother's passing earlier this year is still an open wound for me, even mentioning her name brings tears to my eyes.

"I think that would be a great name for a little girl, San. Let's add it to the short list."

I nod my head and mentally add Alma to the girl's short list along with Maya, Olivia, and Kate. The boy's short list is practically non-existent. The only name we've been able to add so far is Max. Boy or girl, we have agreed not to settle on one definite name until we actually have the baby in our arms.

Quinn groans as she rolls onto her side, and I reach behind me to grab a pillow off of the rocking chair to put under her ballooning stomach. She takes it gratefully and bunches it beneath her to get comfortable. I smile and run my hand through her hair as she gets settled. With just a few more weeks to go, I can tell Q is over being pregnant. She has been a trooper through it all though, and honestly far less of a nightmare than I imagined she would be with all of the hormones and body changes.

Now repositioned, my wife smiles up at me and hands off the book of names. I turn to the first of many blue-tabbed pages and find a name highlighted in blue, thankful once again for Quinn's superior organization skills. With any luck, we'll finally be able to narrow down the list tonight.

"Okay…Alexander," I offer first.

"I still like it. He can be Alex or Xander. Plus, it's a classic, strong name that won't go out of style."

I mull the name over in my mind yet again. Alex Lopez, Xander Lopez, Alexander Lopez. I originally vetoed this name because it seemed boring, I think. For some reason it doesn't seem so terrible now.

"I'm liking it more now than I did before. I guess we can put it on the short list tentatively. If the list gets too long we can cut it later," I concede, holding the book up so I can look at my wife.

"Okay, deal," Quinn replies with a smile.

I move on to the next tab and find the highlighted name. "Jason."

"Ehhhh…"

January 2022

Today is the due date, and yet, no sign of impending labor. We listen with Dr. Page to the baby's heartbeat as he goes over the key information with us. Finally, he puts away the ultrasound and cleans off Quinn's basketball-sized belly.

"Bottom line is that it seems Baby Lopez is healthy and quite comfortable in there. I'm reluctant to induce labor unless there is a change. Your body will begin the process when it sees fit," he tells us with a slight shrug and a smile. "If there are no signs of labor in one week, we'll bring you back in to check everything out and make sure your little one is doing okay."

Quinn grimaces at the thought of another pregnant week and asks what's the longest we should wait to induce.

"Well, if we aren't seeing any progress in two weeks I think we'll have to look at inducing labor at that point. However, there are quite a few ways you can try to encourage your body to move into the early stages of labor. Try taking a few long walks, or going up and down stairs. Some women say spicy food has helped. And, of course, sex. Believe it or not, sex can help a lot."

I lock eyes with my wife and raise my eyebrow ever so slightly. One corner of her mouth twitches upward for an instant before she returns her attention to her doctor.

"Okay, great. Well, hopefully we see you before next week," she says pleasantly, but I can already see her mind jumping forward to getting home.

Quinn fidgets anxiously the entire car ride, just as she did while we waited for an appointment to be made for next week (just in case). I'm nearly shaking from withheld laughter by the time we pull onto our street. I'm amazed she hasn't chewed right through her bottom lip by now.

Purely for entertainment, I slowly walk in the house as Quinn waits impatiently. I'm grinning by the time I close the door behind me.

"Bedroom. Now," Q commands with only the slightest hint of a smirk.

I don't argue.

29 hours later

Quinn has been pacing our bedroom for the last two hours or so, occasionally rocking on all fours when the contractions come on strong. At times, she reminds me of a caged tiger, seeking an opening to escape through. However, at the moment she seems like a wounded, frightened kitten seeking a respite from her pain. It's heartbreaking to watch.

"Oooooooooh God. Sweet Jeeeeesus," she says through long exhales. I rub her back as she rests her elbows and forehead on the bed. Somehow this odd position seems to offer some relief, because she keeps coming back to it.

I check my watch surreptitiously. The contractions are coming closer together and lasting longer, but Quinn has been adamant that I don't tell her anything about the timing until it's time to go to the hospital.

My wife turns her head and looks at me for a long moment. "Have I said yet that this sucks even worse than I remember?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'll hear that a few more times tonight," I respond with a sympathetic smile.

"Give me a ballpark estimate. Are we even close to leaving for the hospital?" she asks hopefully.

I look at my watch again. It's been almost 7 minutes since her last contraction. "Well, if you have another one in the next minute or so-"

"Owwwwwww!" Quinn presses her forehead back on the bed and grips the comforter in her fists tightly.

After a long 47 seconds, she relaxes once more and looks up at me again.

"7 minutes apart, 45 or so seconds long…I'd say it's time to get going," I tell her as calmly as possible, despite the intense wave of emotions that is crashing over me. We look at each other for a long moment before she lets out a little half laugh and pushes herself up. I pull her into my arms and hold her as close as her belly will allow.

"I'll go grab the bag," she says quietly.

"Umm, no. I'll get the bag. You just start moving towards the driveway and by the time you make it to the front door I'll have the car running. I hate to break it to you babe, but you are really that slow." I get a patented eye roll and a slight smack to the arm, but my wife doesn't bother arguing. She knows it's true.

We're surprisingly efficient getting ourselves together, and in no time we're pulling up to the hospital. I glance at my wife as I park the car. She lets out a long breath through puffed cheeks and then inhales deeply. Her nerves are evident but her eyes are clear and calm. She turns to me and smiles.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are…"

"Okay then. Let's do this."

"One last push, Quinn," Dr. Page cajoles earnestly. "This little one has a full head of hair, we just need to pass the shoulders so you two can finally meet."

My wife grips my hand with superhuman strength and nods furiously, then bears down to push again. I rise on to my toes and watch a slippery tiny human emerge into the sure hands of our doctor. "You have a boy!" Q lets out a sound of relief and exhaustion as she falls back against the bed, but then quickly sits back up to see the dark-haired baby being suctioned and cleaned. After a brief second, loud cries fill the room and Quinn and I both start crying too. Dr. Page places our son on Quinn's stomach and offers a quiet "congratulations" that I just make out over the bellowing.

I lean down and gently touch the wild mess of black hair sticking out all over the place. "Hi little man," I say through sniffles. "You look like you've had a rough day."

Quinn laughs through a steady of stream of tears. "He's beautiful, San. He's so beautiful."

She looks up at me with such a happy shine in her eyes that I have to kiss her, and then kiss her again. "You did so amazing, Q. He's perfect."

We turn our attention back to our baby and smile at his fading cries. He flails a little bit and then manages to push himself upward slightly, blinking his eyes in the direction of Quinn's face. She reaches down to carefully pull him higher onto her chest and cradles his tiny body against hers. I quickly snap a picture with my phone and then just stand, watching them through another sudden wave of emotions. It strikes me as I look at them:

This is my family.

Quinn kisses our son's forehead and then looks up at me. "Max. I think we should name him Max."

I smile and nod as I turn this name over in my mind, a thought occurring to me as I do. "Max Alexander Lopez. What do you think?"

"Yes! It's perfect!"

I lean down and kiss my wife and then kiss Max's head.

Perfect.