Steve and Laura took it easy with Herb and Roberta for the rest of the week that they stayed in Russia. Herb and Roberta took the time off work. They all saw the therapist two more times before the week ended, but mostly, they just spent time together. They cooked, played games, watched movies, and talked about the baby.

———————————————————————

At the airport, Roberta hugged Steve so tightly, he thought she might never let go. "Mom?" he prompted.

She pulled back and rubbed his arms gently. "Sorry. Just making up for a few I missed."

Steve leaned in and hugged her again. He kissed her cheek and turned to his father as Laura hugged Roberta. He extended his hand. "Pop."

Herb shook his hand firmly. "Son."

As Steve released his grip, Herb pulled him in and hugged him tightly. He patted his back before he let him go.

Steve wrapped an arm around Laura once she had hugged Herb goodbye. "Well," he said, "I guess this is it."

"So we'll call you once a week," Roberta reminded him.

"Right," Steve agreed.

"And we can talk about what we discussed in therapy that week, and you can tell us about the baby."

"Right," Steve nodded again.

"And you'll call us if you need anything?" Herb continued.

"Sure, Pop."

"And when the baby's born?" Roberta confirmed, looking at Laura.

"Yes. Steve will call when I'm in labor," she assured her.

"And when you're ready, we'll come visit our granddaughter. When you're ready."

"Of course," Laura agreed.

Steve leaned down and grabbed their suitcases. "I'll call when we're home safe," he promised. "I love you."

"We love you, too, Steve," Roberta replied.

"We love you, son," Herb agreed.

Steve waved one last time as he followed Laura toward security.

———————————————————————

When Steve and Laura got home from Russia, it was Saturday. They spent the day and Sunday morning readjusting to the time difference. They were still tired when they left for Carl and Harriette's the next day.

In the car, Laura was flipping through a book of baby names they had picked up and turning to each of the Post-It notes Steve had already placed in the first half of the book, the section for girls' names. "Steve, you did this wrong."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Laura, I'm a literal genius. How could I put Post-It notes in a book wrong?"

"I don't know, but you did. You were supposed to mark the names you liked."

"I did," he replied.

Laura turned to look at him. "With the Post-It's."

"I did," he confirmed again, glancing at her while trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Laura looked back at the book. "Let's start with A."

"Let's!" Steve said, a gleeful uptick in his voice.

"Agatha?"

"Beautiful name."

"Alma?"

"A great option."

"Bertha Harriette Urkel?"

"Why not?"

"Constance?"

"Constantly captivating."

"Dagmar?!"

"It means Day Maiden," he explained.

"Eunice! Fanny! Gladys!"

"Are we doing the whole alphabet?"

"Hildegarde, Ingrid, Janice!"

"Garden, Fair, Gift from God!"

"I don't care what the names mean, Steve! I care what they sound like when she's running for prom queen!"

Steve frowned. "That's a little shallow, duckie."

"Well, I want her to run for president too, but we're going to have a President Hildegarde Urkel before we have a prom queen Hildegarde Urkel."

"Urkel isn't going to help her with either of those goals."

"Kaja, Lotten," she continued, flipping the page dramatically.

"Lotten, like Lottie. You don't like Lottie?"

"I don't, but you didn't even flag Lottie or Charlotte. You flagged Lotten."

"I like Lotten." He glanced at her. "You're only at L," he reminded her, reaching over to flip to the next page for her.

"Morag, Nigella, Olga, Pernilla, Prudence," she continued.

"Ooo. Two for P!"

"Quella, Ralphine, Tallulah, Ulrike, Verna, Wilma, Ymelda, and Zelmah."

"So we have options!"

Laura laughed. "Steve, do you really like all of these?"

"Yes!"

"Which one is your favorite? Out of all the ones you flagged."

Steve paused for a moment before admitting under his breath, "Dagmar."

Laura laughed. "Seriously?"

"We could call her Dagie for short," he proposed.

"Oh, my God."

"Well, what kind of names do you like then? I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas."

"I could open to literally any page in this book and find a name better than Dagmar."

"Do it then!"

She ran the pages past her thumb and stopped randomly. "I opened to Q," she said.

"Good luck with that one," he scoffed.

"Quinn."

Steve pursed his lips. He imagined an adorable baby, his adorable Dagmar, and imagined himself calling her Quinn. "I like Quinn," he admitted, "but it's too close to Quincy. I don't wanna name her after me."

Laura frowned. "Well, what about combining our middle names?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Stevaura never worked and neither did Laurephanie. What about Quinlee?"

"Quinlee," he repeated. "I'd rather your name go first. What about Leency?"

Laura laughed. "I don't think Leency works as well." She looked down at the page. "Look. Quinley is a real name. It's spelled with an EY in this book, and it's probably not very common, but I kind of like it."

"Quinley," he repeated again.

"Quinley Harriette Urkel," she continued as he pulled into the driveway.

"Huh," he said.

"Just think about it. We don't have to decide right now."

"If it was her name," he began, grabbing her hand to stop her as she reached for the door handle, "wouldn't we know it immediately? That's how l felt about the name Dagmar."

Laura raised an eyebrow at him. "Sometimes thinking things through helps, Steve. This is definitely one of those cases. She has to use this name in school, on trophies and certificates, on job applications, on wedding invitations. We should put a little thought into it."

"I put a lot of thought into Dagmar, but there was also a feeling. Shouldn't we get that feeling?"

"I have that feeling."

"You do?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Think about it. Quinley Harriette Urkel. Think about telling everyone her name when they come to visit us in the hospital. Think about teaching her to write it, and how it will look in kid handwriting when the Q is all squiggly and the E is backwards. Think about how it will look on her stocking at Christmas. Think about how it will sound when they read her name at graduation."

"You think about this," he said, stepping out of the car. He ran over to the other side and opened her door for her. He offered her a hand to help her stand. "Girls named Quinley go out on dates with pawing boys and to dangerous parties full of underage drinking. Girls named Dagmar stay home with their parents on Saturday night and do jigsaw puzzles."

Laura laughed and started to walk toward the back door, shaking her head.

"Food for thought!" he called. He grabbed her arm when they reached the back door. "Hey," he said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I like Quinley."

"Me too," she agreed.

———————————————————————

After dinner, Laura and Steve told everyone they had a big surprise for them.

"We brought something incredible back from Russia!" Steve announced as he hauled a large chest in from the car. He set it down on the kitchen table with a clunk.

"Boy, if you break my table…" Harriette threatened.

"What is it?" 3J asked.

"Dried moose meat!" Steve answered.

"You brought us moose jerky?" Estelle questioned.

"Is this another weird craving you've been having, Laura?" Max asked.

"It's better than you'd think!" Laura promised. "Open it."

No one moved toward the box.

Eddie shrugged. "I'd try it." He elbowed Carl. "Open it, Dad."

Carl rolled his eyes and stepped toward the wooden crate.

"This better not stink up my kitchen," Harriette jabbed.

"When I was pregnant with Richie, I couldn't even keep down Mama's Christmas ham, remember?" she asked Harriette. "This girl wants moose jerky."

Carl opened the box slowly and leaned over it to peek inside.

Laura cocked her head. "I don't understand, Steve, you said it would—"

BOOM.

A loud explosion made them all jump as a liquidy, pink goo splattered all over them, hitting Carl most directly. As they wiped their eyes, they turned to glare at Steve.

"That was supposed to be a puff of pink smoke," he explained, pointing at the box as he took off his glasses. He started to rub them on his shirt.

Their glares shifted to Laura, in hopes of a translation.

"It's a girl," she added sheepishly.

The room was silent for a moment, and then the family exploded in celebration. No one was worried about the huge mess they had to clean up anymore as they hugged, spreading the pink goo from person to person.

———————————————————————

The following Saturday, Steve was up and dressed before Laura was awake. He was seated on the couch, flipping through a magazine without looking at any of the pages. His foot was tapping. He jumped a foot in the air when the phone rang, scrambling to get it before it woke Laura. "Hello?" he answered quietly.

"Hey, Steve," Herb said perkily on the other end. "This is your father. You're on speaker phone with Roberta too."

"Hi, Steve," she added.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Pop."

"We didn't wake you, did we?" Roberta worried.

"No. I've been up. Laura's still asleep though, so I'm going to talk quietly. She needs to be well rested to grow our baby."

"Of course," Roberta agreed.

"No problem," Herb nodded. "How is she feeling? Was the travel too rough on her?"

"Has she readjusted to the time difference?"

"Yeah, she's feeling fine. Less morning sickness now, which is a huge relief. She's back at the ACLU, and she says she's keeping up with the workload fine. They've offered to make accommodations for her, trying to keep her on for as long as possible, but she hasn't taken them up on any of it yet."

"Don't let her push herself too hard," Roberta said. "The pressure on women nowadays to do and have it all, it's all too much. Believe me. I tried."

"If it were up to me, she'd never lift another finger," Steve shrugged, "but she has always been a hard worker, and she's always been ambitious. It's part of what I love about her. She wouldn't be her if she just relaxed, not to say that being a mom and being pregnant is relaxing, but still, she's not one to ever take the path of least resistance."

"As long as she's healthy and safe."

"She is," Steve confirmed confidently. "So how are you guys?"

"We actually have some exciting news to share, Steven," Herb said. "Go ahead, Roberta. Tell him."

There was a moment of hesitation before he heard his mother's voice again. "Well, Steven, I was recently offered a job that I'm very interested in taking. I sought it out actually, and they were quick to make me a generous offer, but I wanted to get your ok before I took it."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it's back in the States, and you mentioned that you weren't exactly comfortable with us making too many big changes too fast while we're trying to start over with you."

Steve swallowed hard. His stomach ached with anxiety. He didn't want to have to push her away, but he also didn't want to force himself into a position that would make him uncomfortable. They needed boundaries, and he was afraid his were about to be crossed. "Where is it?"

"The University of Michigan has offered me a cardiothoracic surgeon position. Their Chief of Surgery is retiring by the end of this year, and they'd like me to step into that role when the spot opens up."

Steve relaxed slightly. Michigan. "That's great, Mom. Congratulations."

"So you'd be ok with me taking it? We'd be living in Ann Arbor."

"Yeah, Mom. Of course. I don't want you to give up an opportunity like this."

"No," she replied firmly. "It's not about the opportunity. I don't care about the opportunity. I applied for the position because I want us to be closer to you. Michigan seemed like a good compromise. You'd have your space, but we could still see you. We could still see our granddaughter."

Steve nodded. "I'd like that."

"Are you sure?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, Mom, you guys can move back to Chicago if you want." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure that he meant it.

"Not yet," Herb answered.

"You've made yourself clear, Steven, and we want to respect that. Even being able to visit you a few times a year will already be such a big change. Let's start with that. Your father and I are good doctors. We can find good jobs in Chicago when it's time for that."

"Ok," Steve agreed. "So when are you moving?"

"As soon as possible," she replied.

"Steve?" Laura called from the bedroom doorway. "Steve, something feels wrong." She walked out to him quickly.

He set the phone down without so much as a warning to his parents. "What?" he asked, standing. "What's wrong?"

"I feel something. It feels weird. Sort of like a bubble moving around."

"Like gas?"

"I thought so, but it didn't go away. I tried to go to the restroom, and that didn't help. It's still moving. What if it's a blood clot or something?"

"Oh, my God. Ok. Ok. Let's go to the hospital."

Laura nodded, moving to the door to put her coat over her pajamas.

Steve picked the phone back up. "I gotta go. We're going to the ER. Laura's feeling something."

"STEVE!" Roberta yelled.

"WHAT?"

"We've been yelling for you since she started talking! It's not a blood clot. It's the baby. That's what the baby moving feels like at this stage. Like gas but not."

"And that's NOT what a blood clot feels like," Herb laughed.

"Are you sure?"

"Steve, come on!" Laura said urgently from the door.

"One hundred percent," Roberta said.

"Steve!" Laura scolded again.

Steve pressed the speakerphone button. "Laura, my parents say that's normal. They say it's the baby moving."

"It is?" she asked, stepping back over to him.

"Yes," Roberta explained. "It's called quickening. It feels like gas or like a little flutter. Some first time moms don't even notice it this early, but not all first time parents are as nervous as you two are."

"You're sure it's the baby, Roberta?"

"Yes, Laura. Are you in any pain or discomfort? Or does it just feel different?"

"It just feels different," she admitted.

Steve pressed a shaky hand to her belly. "Where is it? I don't feel anything."

Laura shifted his hand to the right spot as Roberta answered. "You can't feel it yet, Steve," she replied. "Baby isn't big enough yet to be felt from the outside. This part is just for Laura."

Laura looked up at Steve. She smiled, finally relaxing. "It's amazing," she said softly.

Steve smiled brightly and kissed her forehead. "I'm so jealous you get to feel her and I don't," he said.

"You've got at least another month, Steve," Herb explained.

"Probably two!" Roberta added.

Steve pouted dramatically at Laura. She giggled as she leaned in to kiss him. As she pulled back, she left her face pressed close to his. He held his hand on her bump, even though he couldn't feel anything. After a long silence, Herb cleared his throat. "Ok. We should let you kids go."

"Oh," Steve frowned. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get distracted."

"No, it's ok," Roberta sighed. "You two need some time to appreciate this moment. We're gonna let you go, but, Steve, you're sure it's ok for me to take this job?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Definitely."

"Ok," she replied. "Thank you."

"We'll call next week, son, and give you an update on our move."

"Sounds good, Pop. Congratulations, Mama."

"Thank you, Steve. Love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye, kids," Herb finished, ending the call.

"Bye," Steve said softly. He turned back to Laura, whom he was still undeniably holding.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your call," she said softly. "I wouldn't have if I'd known this was nothing to worry about."

"Are you kidding? You're feeling our baby move! You can interrupt me for that! You should!"

"I wanted you three to have more time to chat."

"That's ok. We had a good talk."

"Good," she smiled, stroking his hand on her belly.

"They're moving to Michigan."

"Really?" Laura tried to conceal her concern. "And how do you feel about that?"

Steve smiled at her uncomfortably. "About how you do, based on the look on your face."

"Sorry," she chuckled. "It's just surprising. That's all."

"I want it to not be scary. The idea of seeing my parents more often, but it is."

She kissed him quickly.

"Thanks," he smiled.

"No matter what happens with them, Steve, you have a family to come home to every night. That's what matters. You, and me, and Quinley."

Steve leaned his head against hers again and rubbed her bump slowly. "You're right. That's all that matters."