AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

There is an AN at the end for my guest reviewer and anyone else who may want/need to hear anything there. Anyone not interested is fully welcome to ignore.

I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

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"You can tell?" Daryl asked.

Carol's hand was curled around his like a vice, but he wasn't complaining or even drawing attention to it. She had promised him a half a dozen times, just since they left the house, that she was fine and all was well. Daryl hadn't believed any one of her poorly disguised lies, sugar-coated by the stressed smile she did her best to create.

During the whole of her appointment, Daryl had stayed with her. The staff had been everything that Dr. Martin had promised they would be—warm and gentle. Dr. Martin had done her initial examination of Carol and the last part of their visit was the icing on the whole thing: the tech had come in to allow them to see Sprout again, and to see if she could tell what Sprout's sex might be.

Daryl sacrificed one hand for Carol to hold, and he had recorded, on his phone, a moment or two of the initial showing of Sprout that the tech had done before she turned the screen slightly to go about doing her measurements for Sprout's file.

She'd just asked the question that they'd been waiting for: did they want to know the baby's sex?

"I can tell pretty clearly," she said. "Your baby isn't very shy. Did you want to know?"

"Yes," Daryl said. Unfortunately, his "yes" came at exactly the same moment as Carol's "no."

The tech looked at both of them, and Daryl looked at Carol. He cocked an eyebrow in question at her. As far as he was aware, the intention had been to find out what Sprout was. Now, though, she wasn't doing even as good a job as she had been earlier at hiding the fact that, simply, today was a day that she found highly stressful.

"No," Daryl said. "We don't wanna know."

"I'm sorry…" Carol said. "I…just…"

"Shhh," Daryl offered quietly, squeezing her hand. "Ain't nothin' but a thing."

"I tell you what," the tech offered, a look of sympathy coming across her expression, "I'll put the print out that shows what the baby is in an envelope for you, along with a note saying what it is, and you can decide later. If you want to do a reveal or…even if you just want to wait until it's the right moment for both of you. Would that be OK? You can pick it up when you pick up your other picture and make your next appointment."

"That would be wonderful," Carol practically breathed out. Daryl felt that there was some relaxing there.

"Please," Daryl echoed. "If it ain't—a problem."

"It's no problem at all," the tech assured them. "We have parents all the time that want to do reveal parties and things. We're all done here except for measuring the heartbeat. You ready?"

"I'ma record it," Daryl said.

The tech smiled at him and nodded. She turned the screen so that Carol could clearly see it, and after a moment, the sound of Sprout's rapid heartbeat thundered through the speakers. She took them through what she was doing—measuring the heartbeat and taking notes—and then she asked if they had any questions. Daryl always had thousands of questions pinballing through his mind, but he had long since learned that any time he was asked whether or not he had questions, he suddenly found himself without a single question at all.

Carol declared she didn't have any questions, either, and the tech finished up what she had to do before cheerfully wishing them a good day and telling them that their thanks weren't necessary.

Left alone with Dr. Martin, after the tech left the room, Carol rearranged her gown to feel more secure and sat on the side of the exam table.

She was shaking. Daryl knew that the doctor didn't know that—she wouldn't, because she wasn't holding Carol's hand like he was—but he felt like the woman might suspect. She had a very sympathetic expression on her face to go with her smile.

"Do you have any questions for me?" She asked. She left it open, addressing both of them, but it was clear that she was really speaking to Carol.

Carol clung tightly to Daryl's hand, but the other hand went to her belly.

"Sprout's OK?" She asked.

Dr. Martin nodded her head, and her smile grew a little.

"Your…Sprout is perfectly healthy as far as we can tell," Dr. Martin said. "The baby is active. You saw that on the screen. We saw lots of movement. Thumb-sucking and kicking. Sprout was putting on quite the show for us today."

Carol nodded her head. The irregular rise and fall of her chest let Daryl know that they could be on the edge of her being upset or, even, slipping into panic. He hoped for neither, but would easily forgive either. He couldn't begin to imagine the thoughts that she'd been dealing with leading up to this moment. He was certain that they weren't out of the woods, and there would be some release of all of this before she was feeling much better, but he thought she'd be well on her way to healing in ways she hadn't imagined when they left here with a good report.

"And—I'm…" Carol said. She stalled entirely. It was enough, though. Daryl made eye contact with Dr. Martin.

"You are the picture of health," Dr. Martin said. "Really. You clearly eat well. You're active."

"Should she ought to slow down at the café or anything?" Daryl asked quickly.

"She may need to take more breaks as her pregnancy progresses," Dr. Martin said. "And she may want to cut back on work some. However, it's perfectly safe for you to continue to be active. You don't want to do anything to strain yourself, of course, but…continuing with what your body is used to? Carol, you're doing it right. Just listen to your body." Dr. Martin moved a chair around and took a seat. She folded Carol's file into her lap. "I usually have things I need to discuss with my patients. I have things that I need to talk to them about that they should be doing better. Diet. Exercise. You are doing wonderfully. Your weight gain is right where I would expect it. You're glowing. You look healthy, and all your numbers back that up." She smiled and laughed quietly. "And your Sprout's little show for us backed that up, too."

"You mentioned her weight," Daryl said.

"She's perfectly in range for what I would have expected," Dr. Martin said.

"Is—uh—is some of this…Sprout?" Daryl asked, reaching his hand over and patting Carol's belly through the gown she was wearing. Dr. Martin furrowed her brow at him. He sighed, realizing he had to explain. "I keep tellin' Carol that this is Sprout. Proof, you know, that...that Sprout's growin'. That she's startin' to look pregnant. She keeps tellin' me ain't none of it Sprout. It's all food or…whatever."

Dr. Martin seemed at least a little amused.

"That's absolutely Sprout," she said. "As the baby grows, it needs space. You're going to see a lot more changes in your body as the baby continues to grow."

"And that's OK," Daryl said.

"More than OK, it's necessary," Dr. Martin said. "I do have to address this sometimes. If weight's an issue with you, do your best not to let it be right now. You're eating right. You're clearly giving your body and your baby what they both need. Don't stop doing that. Embrace the changes for the sake of your little one."

Carol was tight-lipped and red-eyed. She nodded her head quickly. Daryl understood. She was holding back the dam burst that had to come out sooner or later. From the looks of it, she was doing her best to save it for him in the parking lot. That was fine, too. She could only hold it back, though, if she kept her teeth clenched tightly and her lips pressed tightly together.

Daryl made eye contact with Dr. Martin again, and he was convinced that she understood that, too.

"What about—movement?" Daryl asked.

"You probably won't feel anything for at least a few more weeks," Dr. Martin said. "However, Carol—are you feeling the movements any?"

"She says no," Daryl offered, almost certain that Carol wasn't going to say anything.

All of a sudden, though, the dam burst. Dr. Martin didn't miss a beat in grabbing a box of tissue, and Daryl didn't hesitate to simply sit down next to Carol and pull her into him. They both gave her a moment to simply get out the worst wave of it, and then she mopped at her face with the tissues she was offered and alternated between giving thanks for the thin pieces of paper and apologizing.

"You're not the first person to cry in my office," Dr. Martin said gently. "Tears are healthy and healing."

"My—my baby girl…died at…she died when she was…"

Daryl squeezed Carol. Dr. Martin moved her body and chair closer to them. She patted Carol's knee affectionately.

"I know. I understand. You do not have to apologize. I am so very sorry for your loss. But this baby is healthy, OK? This baby is perfectly healthy. In fact? I told you that I always have suggestions and recommendations for my patients, and here's the one that I have for you. Relax. I mean that. Grieve, because I do believe that you need to do that, and I believe that your husband believes that you need to do that, but relax. As much as you can. When you're stressed, your body creates stress hormones. And guess who else gets those stress hormones?"

Carol smiled through the tears she was still mopping up—tears that seemed to be flowing from her eyes almost against her will.

"Sprout," she said.

"Yep," Dr. Martin said. "So, try to relax for Sprout. OK?"

Carol took a deep breath, held it a moment, and released it. She repeated the action, and clearly started to relax a little, though she still needed a few Kleenexes to dry up tears and to wipe her nose.

"I think I can feel Sprout," Carol breathed out. "Sometimes. Not all the time. Little—twinges—every now and again. I think I can feel him moving or kicking, but I'll admit that I haven't even wanted to tell Daryl that I can because…I don't know. What if I'm wrong? I sometimes think maybe Andrea doesn't feel everything she thinks she does, and I…"

Carol stopped and shrugged her shoulders.

"I can't tell anyone what they can or can't feel," Dr. Martin said. "Nor would I. I will say that it's very likely that, if you think you can feel your baby, you can. But here's the other part of that. When your baby grows bigger, there will be no mistaking those kicks and movements. Right now, there is a chance that you could mistake different things for baby movements, but those just get mixed in with the actual movement. Just like those stress hormones, though, your body produces a lot of other hormones, especially right now. When you feel your baby kicking—imagined or for real—you feel happy. You remember how much you love the baby. You think, maybe, about how exciting everything is. And you release happy, good hormones then." She smiled sincerely at Carol. "And—guess who else gets the happy love hormones?"

"Sprout," Carol said.

Dr. Martin nodded.

"So, just keep that in mind. You're not always going to feel stress-free. Nobody does, and certainly nobody who's pregnant is stress-free, but you can try to relax as often as possible. And you can remember that there is no harm in indulging in any feelings about your baby that make both of you happy. If you think you feel movement, you feel it. Enjoy it and bond with your baby a little bit." Dr. Martin smiled at Daryl, then, and she gestured in his direction. "Your husband, too, can benefit from those positive hormones. He already looks a lot more relaxed than he did about five minutes ago."

Carol and Daryl both laughed, and Carol squeezed Daryl.

"I am," Daryl told the doctor. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry," Carol offered him.

"Shhh," he soothed back. "Ain't nothin' but a thing. We're teasin'. You're the only one upset. But—I do like the idea of relaxin', and feelin' good, and celebratin' Sprout every chance we get."

"Good," Dr. Martin said, standing up. "Then, consider that my exact prescription. In two weeks, you can tell me how things are going."

"Sounds good," Daryl said.

"Thank you," Carol said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Dr. Martin said. "I'm glad that I had nothing but good news to deliver today."

"Me too," Carol agreed. She was somewhat shaky, even as Daryl helped her off the table.

"Take your time getting dressed," Dr. Martin said. "They'll have everything ready for you when you make your appointment."

They thanked her again, and the doctor left the room. Daryl turned Carol to face him and squeezed the top of her arms. There was plenty to talk about, but this wasn't the time or the place. Instead, he stuck to what was most important in the moment.

"You heard her," Daryl said. "I got me one healthy wife, and she's makin' us one healthy ass Sprout."

Carol's face ran red, and she smiled at him.

"I love you," she said. Daryl smiled back at her.

"Good damn thing," Daryl said. "Because I love you, and you ain't gettin' rid of my ass. Get dressed. We got things to do an' a Sprout to celebrate. Doctor's orders."

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AN: This is specifically for the "guest" reviewer, but anyone who may want/need to read it is welcome to do so.

Addressing my lack of popularity and my lack of reviews/comments:

I will start by saying that I thought about what you wrote for a while. I will also point out that if you feel the need to tell people not to take something the wrong way, you already know how it will be taken. It's much like telling someone to "not be offended" before continuing to say something that you're certain will be offensive.

That being said, I'm not angry. I do, however, feel like I would like to address a few things.

The very first thing I want to address is the fact that you almost make it sound as though it's my fault, or within my control, that I'm not popular and people don't review my stories. I don't accept that, honestly.

If someone doesn't want to read my stories for whatever reason, that's their choice. It's not mine. I cannot control the fact that I'm not a very popular writer. People will either read my stories, or they won't. People can try to change to please readers, but it's very obvious in writing when you're writing for someone else vs. writing for yourself.

Furthermore, I can't control how many people review. The wonderful people who read my stories and choose to leave me reviews (especially positive ones) on the chapters they read do so for a reason. They want to show that they appreciate me, the time I put into the chapter/story, and the story. They want to offer me the only thing they can as thanks and "payment" for the story. They want to let me know that I'm not wasting my time, and they want to encourage me because they know that helps productivity. They know that I have put out five or six chapters in weekends when I feel appreciated and, other times, I may struggle to write a chapter in a couple of weeks. I love the people who take their time to encourage me. They let me know people are reading (because I have no other way to really know that) and that they care.

People may choose not to review for a number of reasons. I don't know what each person's individual reason might be, because I don't know them. I do thank them for reading, of course, and I hope they enjoy the story.

However, I cannot make them review any more than I can make someone read the story. To address your other concerns, I also cannot make people be interested, finish a whole story, or read while the work is in progress. I can say that, without those people who do read while a works in progress, who stay the whole way through, and who do review, there would be a great deal less fanfic from me and everyone else, but I cannot control what anyone does or does not do.

Just to give you a little insight into myself, here's a glance at my life outside of fanfiction, which is an unpaid hobby. Without going into great deal of detail, I can sum that up with the following: I'm disabled. We sometimes call it neurodivergent now, which is a word that I like, but we used to just say that I have brain damage. I am also physically disabled. However, I am a disabled person who works a full-time, high-stress job that has me wearing many hats. I am also usually training for something because, despite the fact that I already wear so many hats, my employers like for me to wear many more. I have a home that needs cleaning and maintenance. I have a family, friends, a pet, and a community. I have other hobbies, an interest in exercise and nutrition, and a need to rest.

Outside of all of that, I have the hobby of fanfiction. It's a hobby. I do it relax. That's right, to relax. I don't get paid for it. I don't get any thanks, whatsoever, except for the reviews/comments/interaction with readers that those readers choose to give me in exchange for the fic that I write and have written for them for around a decade.

I am attempting to finish up some stories, but that will only happen when I find the time and, more importantly, the motivation and inspiration to do so. Readers can help me with that, of course, but it still only happens when the time is right.

I am certain that it would be better if I had less stories, but I have what I have. I can either continue to work on them, which I am doing, or I can abandon them. It might make someone happy if I only focused on their favorite story, but it might deeply upset someone else if I decided to abandon their favorite story entirely.

I also really think that developing my stories so that they feel genuine is important. I know there are some authors who go more for the quick stories with less development, and I'm not knocking that. I've done a few of those myself. It works when that's what you've decided to do. If, however, I just threw a quick ending on a story, or forced myself to write when I had no inspiration for a story, I would be cheating myself out of feeling like I had really enjoyed that story, and I might be cheating someone out of a good ending for their favorite story.

I don't want to do that, so I'll just have to continue to work on all the stories I have until I reach their endings.

I struggle to write just one or two stories at once, and the reason for that is simple. If I'm writing one story, and there's no motivation or inspiration, there's no writing at all. It's as simple as that.

I hope to have addressed some of your thoughts here. I am not sure how exactly you wanted me to take your opinion, but I have not "taken it the wrong way" in that I am not mad with you. You're entitled to your opinion, and I hope you understand a bit why things are the way they are. Have a great day!