From:

To: "Grace Gossips"

Thu. Feb 9, 2012 5:35PM

Subj: Doctors, Directors and Diapers, Oh My!

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS!

Our fearless leader down here in the baby bunker has been in a feud with…honestly everything and everyone. HOWEVER, she has been particularly irascible for the past thirteen months and three weeks. Why, Erin, you might ask, how can you be so exact? As you must be new here, gentle reader, (can you believe one of the remote docs a. found us and b. asked to join like we let just anyone on this mailing list? Amateurs.) I can tell you because just under fourteen months ago is when Miss Zola Grey Shepherd was officially enrolled with us.

Now, because we all ACTUALLY WORK HERE, I am confident that you have all at least glimpsed this little human ray of sunshine. Her stats are: 2.25 y/o. Stands at just under 3ft. Weight: no one's business. Knows her "ABZ's" (it almost makes more sense, right?) Knows every Z-word she sees says "Zola." Except "zoo." That says "animals." She enjoys knocking down block towers, singing the hokey pokey and "head, shoulders, knees, and toes," and will occasionally throw the class for a loop by adding in such body parts as "elbows."

Drs. Grey and Shepherd adopted Zola as an unexpected result of the program we affectionally call Dr. Alex's African Orphans. It was a complicated process, one that all of us here at Grace Gossip followed closely. (See archives June 2010 "McDream Come True?" thru Nov 2010 "Baby Z Update FINALLY!")

Likely due to the uncertainty of that period, once Zola joined our little crew permanently, we discovered her parents would be among the Involved.. Dr. Shepherd already came down to visit with his niece(ish) Sofia, and got along with then-Assistant Director Welch, as he does with most anyone. As do many Involved Parents, They frequently take Zola up to the cafeteria for lunch, and if one of them was on call overnight, they always come up to visit her.

Drs. Grey and Shepherd are not particularly demanding, as far as well-educated parents with Opinions on child-rearing go. I've read the notes from Z's in-take meeting. Nothing unusual. Some things to watch out for based on her medical history and her development. She caught up on milestones quickly. Last year, there were a couple of minor incidents (an earache that went under the radar for a day b/c Z didn't indicate pain, a biting offense. Normal stuff.) Zola and her baby bestie, the afore mentioned Sofia, were a focus over the summer, for obvious reasons. Both of her parents & Dr. Torres were in and out more frequently.

This August, Trina Welch ascended to the directorship,

She and Dr. Grey first butted heads over her checking Zola out outside of lunchtime. It interrupted class time. And…yes? But we've always had parents take kids whenever they can. We're chaotic from three to seven because of different shift-changes. Most of our kiddos are go with the flow. They have to be. Also about this point Dir Welch began commenting on Z being "spoiled." (see archive Aug 2011 The Adventure of GiGi Giraffe).She's a well-behaved kid. There was a little to-do when "them die" became part of her doll play, but Dr. Sloan was her uncle.

Key detail: Zola is potty-trained. As you may imagine, this is a big deal for two-year-olds, and many of her older peers don't have the skill yet. That's cool. To each their own. Still. One less, you know? She started training this fall. It was early, but she was one of those kids who really disliked being wet. She didn't get there overnight, and through the fall there were a few other blips. A fever not being taken seriously. Late pick-ups, late drop-offs. Nothing we don't see from other parents. And you didn't hear it here, but there were times when Welch let other parents go into the playroom outside of drop off/pick up.

Day-time pull-ups switched to underwear around her November birthday. She's always been excited to show off characters on her shirts, and marched in to show me "Abby Dabby, poof!" Undergarments, informing me, "No more diaps!" Two second flash. She also showed her friends. This big girl move impressed half the toddler room. Soon, seeing who Zola had on her undies was part of the routine. The little-littles shared their diapers and pull-ups. We had some copycats who showed new interest in training. These are kids whose parents work with bodies; most of them specifically ask that we use correct anatomical words. We've seen some interesting games of doctor, but it's usually construction paper casts, and the occasional Play-doh knife surgeries.

Welch went totally bazooka-pooka bubblegum. You'd have thought this kiddo was pole dancing on the swing-set. She called in the Grey Shepherds. There was a clear clash of values. Having been in the meeting to take notes, I can tell you Dr. Grey is strongly against telling her daughter that any part of her body was "secret." They'd told her that grown-ups only shared their underwear with "special" people, but who could argue when the kid responded, "friends special!"? Proving himself to be once again the ultimate, Dr. Shepherd observed that if Zola was taking off her shoe to show off her sock, they wouldn't be having a meeting about it. Welch admitted, probably not. "So, it's that she's showing off the clothing that covers her pubic area?" he asked. Dr. Grey's face said she knows what she has in this man. Welch went purple. He then said that if other parents were concerned they would work on solutions. She's two. How hard could it be? (*See March 2007 "Pic: Too small for Torres?")

Friends.

Welch, of course, insisted that there had been "concerns" within a week. They replaced her beloved characters with plain colors, and "what color undies?" is a disconcerting question to hear from little boys, even though the whole point is that they have no idea. It's totally okay, and if they consider it normal, it might never become some weird. sexual mystery for them, but my GOD it is strange for us purity-raised prudes over five.

One of the teachers suggested putting her in overalls, so she could be diverted before getting them down. While adorable, this solution also made the potty trickier. Little Miss Independent did not appreciate this. Industrious girl that she is, she discovered that she could slip her arm out of one-strap, and leave it that way, simply doing the same on the other side at potty time. Most of us considered that a solution. It still gave us time to distract her before they could go down during the morning questioning.

This is where Dir Wench got irrational. She contended that Zola was going around "half-dressed." Her chic look was "slovenly" and "inappropriate." If Dr. Grey had picked Zola up that day, this would have been over and done, because the whole hospital would've been burned down. Dr. Shepherd clearly disagreed, but conceded to try one more option. What else could he have done? They're going to have at least five more years with a kid in the full-day program. (Archive Jan 2013 "It's All Happening!")

That brings us up to today. Let me tell you, you have not seen fury. I have, and it is Dr. Grey storming into the center like a Mama Avenger. She blazed past me. I don't blame her, because her daughter's cry-screaming was audible from my desk. She'd heard it on the phone with me five minutes earlier. Zola is two; tantrums are a part of life, but this was a different breed of frustration.

What happened: The solution was double-buttoned jeans. She can undo one, but when there are two stacked on top of each other, it takes more finesse. You're two. You can undo a button. Why would you ask for help with two? You can do one, why not two? WHY NOT TWO?

Three days, four accidents, a lot of tears. No one felt like this was a good solution.

Almost no one.

Miss Z, as I've said, is very proud of pottying. Hearing her tell her side—"Actsdent. No baby room! Not baby!"—was heart shattering. She conveyed a few more details, like who had told her she'd be going back to the baby room. (I'm sure Dr. Grey expected Welch, but it was a kid who is particularly sensitive about his own accidents.) Dr. Grey reassured her that she hadn't done anything wrong, put her in fresh clothes, with Zoe Monster and Elmo on her undies, and got her settled taking her fury out on Play-doh. (If she's as good at surgery as she is Mom-ing, she'll run the place one day.)

Dir Welch was in her office, like always. Dr. Grey walked in with nary a knock and said that since Zola's history made her at increased risk for UTIs, requiring her to wear restrictive clothing could well be considered endangerment. She wouldn't press it, because it would not be happening again. They weren't going to adhere to an "arbitrary toddler dress code" that "robbed her of agency, encouraged dependence, and made her feel trapped." Especially not when she'd never revealed more than the boy currently running around the two-room in only a diaper and shirt.

Welch would not be told. She claimed this was the result of Dr. Grey "forcing" Zola to train before she was ready, for her convenience. That if she'd spent a minute or two teaching Zola how to do those buttons, this wouldn't be an issue. Talk about what she's not developmentally ready for!

Which is what Dr. Grey said.

The training schedule had been "totally Zola-led", and that's why her wardrobe was mostly dresses and leggings at the start of the year. For her to be able to use the toilet independently while her motor skills caught up to her.

Welch didn't have a ready argument for that. So, she said what, we have come to learn, people say when they don't know what to do with Dr. Grey Jr. "You are just like your mother, you know. All these ideas about how to raise the most brilliant child the world has ever seen, and then expecting us to raise her for you."

A moment of silence followed. This was about when Dr. Robbins came in to pick up Sofia.

"You think I don't remember you," Dr. Grey said, and where we had Hulk we now had Bruce Banner, but like, intense Bruce Banner. "But I'd hoped to find that someone who's worked with little kids for thirty years might not take out their experience with me—and my mother—on a toddler.

"I'm sure it was embarrassing to be out-maneuvered by a four-year-old, but I doubt that was what stuck with you. I'm sure my mother came in here and ranted and raved. That she went on about how much more complicated surgery was than singing nonsense songs all day. Probably said you only had the easy parts of child-rearing, I don't remember—but I'm sure she said it all in front of me. Why I was constantly trying to get to her must've mystified you.

"If I'd started a panties show-and-tell circle, Mom would've called me uncivilized. Then, shed have said there shouldn't be any difference between what girls and boys can do, but sometimes you just have to go along with the rules until you're in a place to prove stupid people wrong.I don't want Zola to assume things will be unfair, and accept that. I wish I didn't have to teach her about danger. Or death. Or sickness. My mother thought that the earlier I knew the truth of things, the more prepared I'd be. But knowing and experiencing are different things.

"You worked here through the Satanic Panic, I'm sure that affects how you want to protect your charges—but none of that actually happened. It was all adult paranoia. I want her to get comfortable in her body before she's shamed for it!

"If you'd treated me like a person, instead of a problem? If you'd asked em about my drawings, instead of complaining that they weren't all rainbows and butterflies? I wouldn't have tried nearly as hard to get a few moments of feeling like I mother would tell me if she was too busy for me. She wouldn't pretend to be listening if she wasn't. If her focus wasn't on me, I was an accessory. An umbrella. One that slips your mind so easily, you're constantly almost losing it but when you need it, it's the most important thing you have. When she had attention to give me? I was her total focus. That became incredibly stressful, but when I was a kid, it was everything.

"As a mother, I am nothing like her. You won't be the one to convince me otherwise. My daughter isn't an umbrella. She's a very independent-minded person, and I'm not going to discourage that. I will tell her that we wear multiple layers of clothes to stay warm and keep our skin safe. If she decides clothes as a whole aren't her thing, we'll re-access."

"And if that's unacceptable?" Okay, Welch has some OVARIES.

Enter Dr. Robbins. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt! I just heard Dr. Grey in here, and I've been meaning to speak with her. Meredith, do you know yet if you and Dr. Shepherd will stay on if the hospital is sold? I know we're not the only ones who will take your opinions into consideration."

"Well, I suppose it depends on the buyer. They've already decided to put a hernia clinic in place of the E.R.; if they don't keep the daycare, we'd certainly think about it. Otherwise, we'd hate to take Zola away from her friends. If we're already facing putting her on a waitlist somewhere else, we might as—."

"Oh, there's no need for that!" said Suddenly Welcoming Welch.

"She has a new Minnie Mouse dress with matching bloomers, and I haven't let her wear it—"

"I'm sure it's adorable. With such a spirited little…child, I suppose I should be willing to pick my battles."

"I suppose." Dr. Grey started out of Dir Welch's office, and at the doorway, like it was an afterthought said, "Of course, if you didn't think of children as the enemy, you wouldn't be fighting war in the first place."

SOMEONE CALL DR. AVERY BECAUSE THAT'S A THIRD DEGREE BURN!

Grace Gossips, I HIGHLY doubt this is over, but I will no longer put the onus of it on Zola. It's 100% not about her to Welch, and 110% about her to Dr. Grey.

With the feud's origins uncovered, I put together the following:

Once-upon-a-time, Meredith Grey was a pupil of this daycare, and so our forebears in Grace Gossip say, a menace. This is when she crossed paths with one Trina Gregson, at the time an aide in the "Preschoolers" room. (They had all the threes, fours and fives in one room. Were they INSANE?)

Every kid who knows Mommy or Daddy works upstairs makes an escape attempt, but they don't actually get out. Except for Meredith Grey. Trina a was in charge of keeping Meredith engaged within the walls of the daycare suite. (For more on this period of Seattle Grace history check out the Grace Gossips Archive starting with June 2006 "Match Game: Meredith Grey.")

Thirty years, a marriage, and a divorce later, Is she just embarrassed over being outsmarted by a 3/4/5 y.o.? Or is she one of the ever-increasing number of women who silently seethed over being treated as an inferior by Ellis Grey?

And, uh, what do we know about this sale business?

Your fellow curious mind,

Erin Clegg

"Come here, baby girl, look who I have." From the sofa, Derek could see Meredith tense, but she didn't leave the dishes she was rinsing.

Zola held up one of the toys she'd come to the living room for. "Shepherd," she said, plaintively. She rarely chose not to stand on her toddler tower and help with clean-up, and did not like having her unusual plan thwarted.

"This is…related to Shepherds."

Zola galloped a cow into her barn..

"Smart girl, not falling for the smooth words," Meredith murmured.

You want her engaged, he reminded himself. If they hadn't been getting more attention in the halls than usual, he might've tried to put this off another week, but Zola was the hospital darling. It was a miracle someone hadn't asked her about being a big sister, yet.

He tried a different tact, unsnapping the doll's front and placing it in the Tupperware box that held the flatter version and "standard" reproductive organs.

"What's this?" he asked holding the peanut-sized doll fetus up in Zola's direction.

"A nostril-blocker," his wife responded.

The follow-up snicker came from the hallway. He had no qualms about giving Lexie the full force of his exasperation, but it was equally impotent. "Are you why we didn't get Legos until we were seven?"

Meredith left the sink, positioning herself in arm's length as Lexie transferred to her standing frame. She'd gotten steadier on her own, which was great. The longer he could put off the fight over what Meredith could do over what she should do, the better.

"No comment."

He wasn't surprised. His running theory was that any time she was told not to do something, she'd asked, if I did, would they page my mommy? and no one remembered that when, months later, she did the thing. Lexie's unfazed expression was surprising. He hadn't thought that level of naughtiness fit with her perception of what her sister had been like as a kid.

"Baby," Zola said, crawling over to take the figure from his hand.

"Are you a baby?"

"Z big!"

"Were you a baby?"

She sucked her lip, looking at him suspiciously. "No baby room."

"That's right," Meredith affirmed.

"Them sleep cribs."

"Do you know what comes before they sleep in a crib?"

Zola looked to Meredith who was still leaning against the counter. Not, he observed, fidgeting with her sleeve, a habit that'd made it harder not to share her concerns about Cristina noticing. For the most part, she'd seemed occupied enough by Owen—or, Callie believed, Owen and Cahill. Derek doubted that was anything more than concern for the hospital on Hunt's part, but he'd seen how oblivious the guy could be to the sort of looks the physician's advisor was giving him.

"What do you think, Zo?" she asked. He watched her decide to join them. It was difficult not to grab her once she was close enough, or to acknowledge her sitting beside him in any way that might catch Lexie's attention. Those calculations had become almost natural in the past five days.

That day, he'd told Kepner he left something in his office twice before she'd told him she knew Meredith had called out sick, so he could quit pretending he wasn't checking on her. She'd assumed it was pregnancy-related. Everyone else seemed to come to the same conclusion, even Yang. Before he'd woken her to share Cahill's head-fake, he'd called Kathleen from Torres's lab. She'd convinced him that doubling back to ask Wyatt what to expect from the rest of the day would backfire.

It'd gone better than he expected. Callie had earned sainthood by bringing Zola up to them before Meredith had started considering pickup—verbally, at least, and he was fairly confident he'd recognize the level of anxiety thinking about it would summon—The office door hadn't swung open all the way before a shriek of, "Hi, Mama! All better?" had been followed by a blur of orange flinging herself onto her favorite lap—"What if you wear the white undies, but you're Zoe Monster on top?" He'd been proud of that one, until it'd led to letting her wear her Zoe slippers, just so he could get back to her mother—Meredith would never have reacted to that with more than joy.

That evening had been almost eerily normal. They'd lucked out on Lexie going out again. Instead of going straight home, they'd gone to the hibachi restaurant that Zola adored—va-can-o, va-can-o!—and that'd been where he'd first noticed her picking at the gauze under the cuff of her sleeve. He'd tried to take point on feeding Zola so Meredith would eat, but Zola's insistence on using the kiddie-rigged chopsticks made it a two-person gig. Meredith didn't shy away from that. If anything, she'd been more engaged than usual, but there was something he couldn't parse on her face. She withdrew only when Zola couldn't see her, like she didn't deserve more than that. He'd been trying to let her work through it on her own since he'd seen progress, but they were working against a clock.

Zola wiggled her way onto the couch been them. "A'fore crib baby, Mowi," she said, decisively. He met Meredith's eyes over her head. Her laughter made the room a good five degrees warmer, in his opinion, and it brightened with Zola's follow-up giggle.

"You were in Malawi before you were a baby," Meredith confirmed. "And when you were a baby. Even with a crib."

"My Kena, my friend Zola grow big!" Zola said. "Z so cute!"

"That's what she said, huh? What else are you?"

Derek could only half listen to the affirmations his wife and daughter came up with, because a separate list was populating in front of his eyes, aimed at Meredith. There were intervals where she hated being prompted through that exercise herself, no matter how objective he thought the attributes were. Depending on if the praise was for her work or not, they were in one. That was why she didn't miss the opportunity to make it ordinary for Zola.

"You are all those things," he said, before Zola's interest could wane. "You can walk and talk, and tell us when you need help. Babies need grown-ups to give them milk until they've strong enough to do it themselves. But before there's a baby, there's this." He tapped the figurine clutched in her hand. "That's called a fetus."

"Feets?" she repeated, holding up hers, clad in polka-dotted socks.

"Feat-us," Meredith corrected, fist pumping at her hip. She had predicted that pronunciation, but she'd also been the one to insist they use the accurate terminology. He wasn't against it, especially not looking at the figurine. It definitely wasn't a full-term baby.

"A fetus needs even more help to live than a baby. Some grown-up's bodies have special organs where they grow. Like a pocket. See, look." He slotted the fetus into the "expanded" attachment had to be removed to manipulate the other abdominal organs, which wasn't at all anatomically accurate, but might keep Zola interested in the larger pieces for a while. "It grows right there until it's strong enough to eat, and breathe, and cry. When it comes out, it's a baby."

That was al little more The Very Hungry Caterpillar than Where Did I Come From? but it would suffice.

She picked up the doll and tugged at the hinge. He showed her how to unhook it. She swung it back and forth. "For crib?"

"That's when they can sleep in a crib. One day, that baby becomes a kid and gets a big kid bed, like you."

"Z no baby. Sofi baby."

"But she'll be two very soon. A big girl like you. You used to be a baby. Before we knew you, you were a fetus."

"Mawi."

"Yeah. The grown-up whose body kept you all protected and taken care of for us lived in Malawi. You're a special case, You were adopted. Most of the time, the fetus grows inside their momma."

Zola paused her game of organ peek-a-boo to turn to Meredith. "Daddy be silly."

A muffled exclamation came from Lexie. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged unapologetically.

"He can be," Meredith acknowledged. "But that's true.. Sofia grew in Aunt Callie. Alina and Tina in your class are twins because they were fetuses in their mommy at the same time. Lynn and Max are a big sister and a baby brother. They grew in the same mommy at different times.

"You are adopted. That means you grew in your biological momma, while you were a fetus. Like Daddy said, she kept you safe, and you grew into a baby. She wasn't able to be your forever-mommy, so she took you to Ms. Makena, who brought you to us."

"My-Kenna take kids onna airplane."

"Mmhmm, she brings kids from Malawi to our hospital on a big airplane."

"Them not die."

Derek winced at the way Meredith's eyes shuttered, though she blinked back immediately. They'd never told Zola that there'd been a plane crash, much less that that was how her Uncle Mark died. If she'd put things together, or if it'd entered the daycare knowledge pool would probably always be a mystery. It was possible she was simply was confirming that someone who was there one day and not the next hadn't died. How she played with her vehicles always looked like a bad night for the Little People E.R., so the toy airplane had delivered no insight.

"That's right," Meredith said. "Who else in your class is adopted. Do you know?"

"Nina."

"Good remembering. Who is Nina's big brother?"

"Um…. Him wear turtles."

"Brad does love Ninja Turtles. Nina and Brad have different birth-mommies who helped them grow until they were babies, and then they came to their papas. They have the same papas, so they are brother and sister."

There was a long pause while Zola kept clicking Joanne open and shut. They'd discussed the questions this could lead to. They were unlikely at Zola's age, but the connections she made were often surprising. "Z feeta, Z baby, Z big kid."

"Big sister," Meredith said, putting her hand on Zola's back.

"Ecksy."

"Your mommy is my big sister," Lexie said. "That's really cool, huh? I think you'll be just like her."

"Z be sister?"

"You…You are, love-bug." Meredith's gaze shot up to his. "She is. Regardless…."

"We're going to have another—a baby in our family," Derek said. "You will be their sister. If it's a boy, you'll have a brother. If it's a girl, you'll have a sister."

"After shif'?"

Meredith turned her head into his shoulder, meaning she didn't want Zola to see her laughing. He got to feel it which was as much of a gift as their daughter assuming they were simply talking through tomorrow.

"Not for a while," he told her. "It has to grow a lot. A new baby is about…this big." He grabbed a plush bear from the nearest stuffed animal pile and sat it on Meredith's other side. "Right now, our baby is a fetus that's.…" The ball he picked up was not baby-like in any way, but it matched the measurements for the fetus, which was still being measured from head to bum, legs pulled up the way Meredith's were whenever she felt most vulnerable. "This big."

Zola ducked under his arm, almost face-planting into Meredith's lap, one hand on her leg and the other flat on her sweater. "You got a feetza?"

"Yeah, I was surprised, too."

"No Mowi?"

"No, this baby is coming to us a different way. He or she won't be adopted. That's all. You will have the same mommy, and the same daddy. You'll be their big sister."

"Like you?"

Meredith's eyes wen't wide. He could see the thoughts racing through them. They'd told Zola in passing that the grandma in Mommy's pictures wasn't Lexie's mommy, who she'd also seen a few pictures of, but she likely didn't remember that. All she knew was— "Yeah, I'm a big sister, too."

Zola started to back off the couch. Just before she returned to tending her flock, she whispered, seemingly to confirm it to herself, "Zo special."

Meredith caught her and reeled her back up, covering her face with kisses until Zola shrieked with laughter. "You are so, so special, you little goober. Not because you're adopted from Malawi. For many, many reasons. You are the specialest Zola ever, and if you don't get a bath now, you're going to be the smelliest Zola ever."

"No!" Zola protested, twisting in her arms as she stood. He reached up, but Meredith had already wrangled the toddler into a two-armed hold. "Be shepherd!"

"Yup, you're a stinky Shepherd like Daddy. He can take care of your sheep." She swung Zola over toward him, letting him see the epic pout. He kissed her crinkled forehead, and brushed his fingers along the underside of Meredith's arm. That he'd take bath time had been understood over the weekend. She gave him a look that said she knew what she was doing, and she was smiling when she turned Zola away to say good night to Lexie.

That was a pretext. If her aunt was at home, Zola would be at the upstairs baby-gate to shout her good nights and blow kisses before finally being corralled in her room. Meredith had dubbed it her Zola Von Trapped routine.

"My parents said I responded to that talk by stomping my foot and proclaiming 'no baby,' and didn't stop saying it until Molly had her own bed," Lexie said. She looked up from her phone a second later, and his buzzed.

"Seems like you and Liz should've hit it off better." He swiped through to see a video file in their text thread. "Oh, thanks."

"Figured I could make use of being intrusive."

"Yeah, when we planned this conversation, we had no idea you'd be out here at the same time you are every night." He moved over on the sofa to attend to Zola's farm. She'd go to it first thing in the morning. There were a few minutes of silence where the water turned on upstairs, and the two of them pretended Lexie wasn't tracking him, obviously building up to say something.

"I know I should ask Meredith, but I'm not sure she'd be honest—Would it be awful if my dad came Tuesday night?"

"It's your birthday."

"It's your house."

"He's your dad."

"He's a clown!" she countered, with a fierce gesture that sent her phone flying. "Damn it."

"You want to say more about that?" he asked, picking it up and holding it so she could slide her finger into the loop on the back.

"Mom used to say that wherever he was being particularly oblivious. It's inaccurate. He's not. He just lets stuff happen, does what he wants, and if it hurts someone, he finds a scapegoat. But the night I was there…. He thought I was going to invite him, and I stream-rolled it. If I'd done it on purpose it'd be one thing. I could just get lunch with him like I do every year. I could pretend I didn't figure out what he meant, but I did, and I'm an adult. I…I don't want to be on his level. Part of me wants to be like Meredith and give him another chance, but honestly, I'm sick of how she lets people hurt her." She jerked the lever on the frame to start lowering herself. "She'll rip them a new one, but he doesn't change, and she still lets it go. We got the same apology, and I think she had the right reaction."

"It's possible," he said. "We're going to have to tell Zola where her sibling is over and over for a while. Plasticity is on our side. When she learns a new way to get what she wants, she uses it, because it's less exhausting than a tantrum. Sometimes that's the only tool she has. Meredith is incredibly forgiving, although, you notice, she's never gone back to thinking of him as her father. Sometimes, I wonder if it's because with Ellis she didn't have a choice. Her mother never acknowledged wrongdoing, and as a kid, Meredith would've had to just let things go, because she needed her mother. She also knows where being particularly spiteful gets you, thanks to Ellis.

"When someone goes through AA, they make a big deal about apologies. But it's a two-sided thing. They have to see what they did to hurt you, but so do you. If all you know is that you're hurt, it won't do anything.

"I got a chance most people don't, you know? Mark and Addison following me out here. God knows I wasn't going to look back. I got the apologies I thought I needed. Then, I set one boundary, and when he was honest with me about stepping over it, I punched him in the face."

"Me."

"You, but not you. Telling him not to screw my sisters was never about them. I mean, did I know he was him. Did I want to protect you all? Sure, but that wasn't the way to do it. That was wanting control. That's what I lost in the affair, and it took a long time for me to feel like I had any of it back. And to realize that not having it could be okay.

"My sisters don't belong to me. Neither did Addison. You definitely didn't, but I took being glad Meredith was showing interest in you as a good excuse to try to regain the role I thought I had in our friendship. When he stepped over that ridiculous boundary, he did the right thing. He told me the truth. That I wasn't ready to hear it wasn't his fault. I reacted like I was sixteen, because I hadn't figured out a better way to resolve problems with him.

"I don't know if Thatcher will discover new tools. I do think you should expect more from him. Just...if you're drawing a line, make sure it's not a tripwire, for either of you." Her skills at transferring had really improved; she could give him a look that said, which one of us is throwing the tantrum midway through.

"You know on Monday you're going to have to deal with Zola teaching the daycare her new word."

"We're donating a whole box of books on the subject."

"You gonna put that thirty mill toward the Grey Shepherd Science Center wherever she goes to college?"

"My sisters have gotten fourteen kids to junior high without actual bribe—"

A shriek came from upstairs. "LLAMA LLAMA CHASE Z, MAMA!"

"—ry," he finished. Lexie raised her eyebrows.

Maybe he'd mention it, next time he called his finance guy.

The Little Critter got a baby sister in Zola's story round-up that night. Except for Corduroy, her other books were forgotten in her determination to go over every item in every picture, and hear the story over and over. She only stopped paging through it for the last line of the bear's story to get her big hug.

"She's gonna end up in our bed," Meredith predicted in the hall.

"Mayb—wait, where are you going?"

"I owe Lexie a discussion."

He caught her arm at the elbow. "Not tonight. She'll think you're mad about something else."

"What?"

"She just asked me if Thatcher could come on Tuesday."

"What, because she thinks I can't—?"

"Because she knows you can handle him, and you would, whether you're comfortable or not. She wants to protect you."

"Did you tell her I'd say no to protect her?"

Her eyes weren't burning to the degree they had on Thursday, after the Pantie Provacateur showdown, but it was close. He hated what had happened for Zola, but it had breathed life back into Meredith.

She turned, and he followed her to their bedroom. "Mer?"

"She goes to you. You get to play big brother. Meanwhile, I'm up here being crazy—"

"Mer—"

"She…She has this idea of how I could've been this wicked awesome big sister at sixteen! Wicked, yes! I would've been horrible. I was, does she not remember that?"

"I'm sure she does. You put in the work. It seems like…maybe that's not about you? She'x still coming to terms with making…or wanting to make a choice her mother wouldn't. She didn't get a chance to talk to Susan about you. That fantasy about what could've been…it casts her parents as who she thought they were. That's not likely, anymore than it's likely Dani is some puppet master controlling Thatcher. "

"She hasn't talked to me about that since it happened. She only talks to me about her day if I find a bruise, and she's so defensive—I'm glad she's taking chances, and there haven't been any signs of skin breaking down—Sometimes she's so enthusiastic when I bring up a case, and the next time I'll feel like I'm torturing her. All she says is 'it's fine.'"

"Maybe it is. Maybe that's the best she can do. Her birthday's next week. You can pass judgement on her friends—" Meredith smiled, slightly. "—and when we don't react to them like her parents would've, it'll help her process that helping…caring for her doesn't mean we're trying to parent her. "

"Is that what she thinks?"

"Not consciously, I'm sure. She was so independent from a young age, and I don't get the sense that she had the friendships you did—where you… dragged each other up. She had Susan. When it comes to being taken care of, being parented might be her only model.

"She hss ideas about what having a big sister as a kid might've been like, but having you step up and actually do the things—getting her out of scrapes, defending her, trying to help her learn from your experiences—when you're not working together, just as her sister…. Getting what you want doesn't always mean knowing what to do with it." Her eyes narrowed, searching his words for an insult. He didn't exhale until she sighed and looked down. "You're a great sister, far beyond keeping her stable for four days. You're great in a crisis, Mer, but that doesn't mean you're not fantastic the rest of the time."

Another hint of a smile came his way. She sat on the bed and started to role down her sleeve. Then, she shrugged and took the sweater off instead. His eyes went immediately to her middle. She'd been free of the nausea, as far as he knew, and not ending up with leftovers at every meal. The baby seemed to be on track.

He raised his eyes to her arm when she held it up. The gauze was gone. He could stop himself from physically wincing at the sight of the stitches he'd put in, out of extreme caution, but he couldn't stop himself from reeling backward into that night. He'd talked to her the whole time, even done several of them one handed to let her squeeze his hand while she adjusted to the pricking, and then continued to make her tell him to quit showing off. She'd been totally blank.

She was here. Her eyes were…hopeful? There was pride there.

"The gauze get wet?" he asked, scanning her arms.

"Soaked. I-I let her see me take it off," she added, as he scooped her hair over her shoulder to see her back. It was unlikely that he'd find anything there, but he'd never have considered the bottom of her foot, either.

"Yeah?" He scratched her back and her shoulders lowered. She was covered in freckles here; the evidence that proved her claims of being "a total beach bum" in her restless days. On her face, they were faded, but he could map them, along with the holes she'd let heal, and the scars that weren't prominent enough to lead to casual questioning. She'd earned every supposed blemish. Wanting a different life for her was wanting her to be different, it'd taken him way too long to learn that.

"She pointed to it, and said, 'Mama, hurt,' so I told her yes, I have a hurt there, and it's getting better. She suggested a Sesame Street band-aid."

"We could arrange that." He gently took her arm to see the uncovered scar on her shoulder.

"Not yet."

He stood up to get the gauze, and avoid telegraphing his relief. He wanted it fully covered for antiseptic reasons, but they weren't the only reasons.

Yeah, he needed to make that appointment with Carr.

"That was it," she added. "I'm not sure if she remembers, or what she saw, but…she's okay."

"So are you." She'd taken off her slacks while he got the supplies, and had her arm propped on one leg. He did a precursory check, but the position didn't seem to be an attempt to block anything. "She's lucky to have you as her mom."

"Is she? None of the Daycare Debacle would've been a big deal if I didn't have a history with the Wench."

"I disagree. Her need to have control over those kids would've reared its head at some point. And seeing how headstrong she can be, I think you'll have plenty of chances to advocate for Zo with people who didn't know you as Preschool Houdini. And considering that the next one will have a combination of our genes, I'm guessing you'll have even more opportunities then. "

She smiled again, tentatively, her hand going to her belly. "I wish you could feel it. It's…It's real. I get a fetus."

"You made a fetus."

She stood up and went to get pajamas from the dresser before saying, "You were part of that."

Message received. See, my love? You're not always into it.

"Not as much as you. It's in the book." He grabbed the paperback off of the bedside table and held it up. "Before we delve into that, there's an…advocacy-related thing I want to ask you about."

"Okay…."

"I know you're happy with Connie, and a lot of the OB nurses, but with things going the way they are at the hospital…. It feels like there are no guarantees. It doesn't make sense to transfer when you know you'll be comfortable there, but in terms of consistency of care…. Would you want to hire a doula? Just so there's someone whose job is to advocate for you?"

He expected to be laughed at, and he wasn't disappointed. It wasn't all that unusual for parents to come in with a birth doula in Seattle. Addison had made a point of getting to know them; making sure they knew she was on the side of the parents being able to follow their birth plan unless there was no choice but to intervene. What Meredith appreciated for patients was not always what she'd accept for herself.

"I get it," he said, when she was listening again. "Letting in a stranger, not your thing. That's why I'm asking now. You'd have time to research and meet people. I could get names…. We keep reminding Lexie she can have a PCA if she gets tired of our schedule, or wants more privacy. This isn't different. I'm going to be with you the whole time, but you can't have enough people on your side."

"And you'd have a really hard time advocating for me to be in pain if I decide to go drug-free."

That he thought why would you do that? made that a great point. He knew that interventions came with side effects, but when the other choice was putting her through more discomfort, after everything? Yeah, it'd be difficult.

"I would. Pain isn't always suffering, and I'll help you with every possible comfort measure. That's where I'd want my focus to be. You had to advocate so hard for all of us last summer. You shouldn't have to do it for yourself."

"That…well…it makes sense."

"But?"

She climbed back on the bed with him. "I…I'd sort of assumed…. I'd thought that person would be Cristina. And…there are four months left."

"You're not ready to let go of the hope that it'll be like that."

"I know that that getting someone else wouldn't mean we won't be okay by then."

"But it feels like it."

She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't counter that, not when he hadn't fully accepted that he wasn't going to get to introduce this baby to Mark.

"That's okay. You've got time. Just…keep it in mind. Addison and Nancy were two of the least woo-woo people in my life, but they both have evidence-based practices, and facts are that some interventions like acupressure and aromatherapy work. Doulas, in particular."

"Acupressure stimulates large nerve fibers," she said. "Stimuli is either sent to the brain or blocked via neurons released at the dorsal horn. Stimulating large neuron fibers; produces more inhibitors, diminishing pain. Also possibly releases endorphins and lowers cortisol.

"Aromatherapy stimulates the lambic system, decreasing anxiety and tension. Possibly decreases cortisol or increases serotonin. There's always science behind something that works, even we can't explain it, yet."

He hummed in agreement and ran his fingers through her hair. Usually that truth comforted him as much as her. This time, it occurred to him that her replacement skills had similar effects; they released certain neurotransmitters; they took her attention; they activated her nervous system—the mechanism didn't matter if she didn't try them. He didn't want her to be in so much pain that it outweighed the feeling of foolishness she'd described the other day, but would she be able to bypass it otherwise?

He'd seen Yang learn to accept the power of endorphins in pain management, and the uncertainties of working with the brain. She'd seen Meredith through a D , and other recoveries. Still, he couldn't let go of the thought he'd had in Wyatt's office: Were the eyes Meredith looked at herself through really hers? Were they Ellis's? Or were they the best friend who'd told her that what she was doing, using those interventions, wasn't good enough?

What were the chances It would happen while she was in labor, even if she didn't believe she deserved the pain?

What if she did?