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Being pregnant sucks.
It’s a fact Amy had considered well while making her five-year plan binder but she had always known that she wanted to raise a family with the right person and leave her own mark on the world through her two amazing children (Amy refuses to go through the insanity her mother went through that was raising eight children, seven of which are boys; she shudders each time she thinks of being pregnant for that long and the research and organizational hell it would be to re-plan her whole binder) that were going to be on the top of their classes in school, graduate with honors and then take over the world in their own way.
She had put possible careers for her children in the binder but then scrapped them, deciding that she should be humble about their future and only be a supporting mother who only gave a slight nudge in the right direction whenever necessary.
(The other reason was that Jake had let out such an offended noise when he found out, that Amy was more or less forced to admit that maybe she had went a little overboard.
Maybe.)
Amy had planned her pregnancy even before her and Jake got together and she was determined to follow her Life Plan meticulously despite all the obstacles that got in her way.
Namely: Jake going to Wit Sec, the precinct nearly getting shut down, her own fears of jeopardizing her relationship with Jake because of her aspirations to become a sergeant, Jake getting wrongly convicted and going to jail, her working tirelessly to get him out…
Thank God, she had the brains to put extra time intervals in her binder and Plan in case those type of things happened.
Anyway, Amy and Jake had prevailed and had finally gotten married just in time to fit the assorted time interval she had planned out and the next logical step was, of course, starting their own family.
It had been a couple of years after tying the knot when they started trying – Amy had wanted to settle in her new job as a Sergeant and Jake had no qualms about letting her do so – but when they did, it had happened very fast.
As in, two-weeks-very-fast.
(It’s in our blood, mija, her mother had said, as if that gave any explanation.)
Nevertheless, Amy was prepared with all possible pregnancy books and binders she had put together with her husband’s help and while they had been shocked at first, the sheer joy bubbling inside their chests had quickly taken over and the excitement of being future parents was almost tangible whenever they looked at each other.
The first few months were not that bad, aside from the morning sickness and adjusting to her strange cravings at ungodly hours of the night, but Amy hadn’t been very fazed since she had done her best to study her pregnancy books. However, as the months advanced and her belly grew, her tolerance for exhaustion drastically dropped and she couldn’t keep reading those books without falling asleep after 15 minutes. Amy would wake up an hour later, get frustrated about how 15 minutes is not nearly enough time to absorb valuable information, Jake! and how this baby growing inside of her was making her life so difficult.
Jake would then give her a meaningful look, accompanied by a small smile and Amy would start feeling guilty about blaming this little peanut that was half her and half Jake that she had come to love unconditionally even before it was born and she would apologize profusely to her belly while stroking it gently.
(This was also very often accompanied by crying uncontrollably about how Amy was going to be a terrible mother which would prompt Jake to grasp her hands and tell her in his most earnest voice that she was going to be the awesomest mom ever and I’m gonna be the coolest dad ever – point is, Ames, we’re gonna be great parents. Amy would then reluctantly smile and say with a watery chuckle that awesomest is not even a word, Jake to which Jake would reply with something along the lines of you’re gonna be such an awesome mom that you deserve a new word.
She would then kiss him and demand a foot rub.)
Amy was ecstatic about having a kid with Jake and her pregnancy was filled with magical moments.
But this one that she was experiencing at the moment was, decidedly, not.
As soon as Amy had woken up, her fingers were itching to solve something which was very uncool of her brain since she had started her pregnancy leave two weeks beforehand. Jake had developed this ability to sense whenever she got too fidgety and anxious, so whenever he came home, he would walk her through his own cases and ask her for a fresh perspective. It worked, since that itch usually appeared some time during the day, most often the afternoon when she was bored out of her mind, so she didn’t have that much time to dwell on the fact that she couldn’t work before Jake came home.
Feeling that itch in the morning was new.
And inconvenient.
(As lots of things that come with this pregnancy, Amy’s mind supplied which annoyed her even further.)
She was determined not to spiral, though, so Amy forced herself to be positive and go about her day as usual before she could get her hands on a new case from her husband in the evening. It was a positive thought that filled her with energy she didn’t realize she could have, so her hopes went up and her morning was spent with a smile on her face.
Of course, all bad things happen after lunch and Amy cursed herself for not preparing for the barrage of disasters that occurred during the afternoon.
At her seven month mark, Amy often had cravings not only during the night but the whole day, so when she laid down to watch some daytime TV, she knew she was going to get up to the kitchen at least five times.
She knew what she was getting into by laying down, is what she’s saying.
At getting up number seven in the span of an hour and a half, Amy banged her head on her kitchen cabinet (because she had forgotten to close it at getting up number five, but who cares) which caused her right foot to reflexively fly out forwards and her big toe getting slammed on the kitchen island.
Amy didn’t bother muffling her following scream.
Jake’s calm voice chanted in her head In, out, in, out and after a minute of deep breathing, the worst of the pain had passed and Amy forced her eyes open. She then registered that her toe was slightly bleeding which was going to stain the carpet and that thought was enough to send cold shivers down her spine. She retrieved a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some cotton and band aids from the bathroom cabinet before sitting carefully on the toilet seat. Soaking the cotton in the peroxide, Amy stretched her right leg out and then strained to reach it but no matter how much force she put behind her actions, the cotton ball she was holding couldn’t even reach her toe because her belly was in the way.
Her belly was in the way.
Amy could feel her nostrils flaring and the faint sound of her mother’s reprimanding about it how it isn’t good for the baby for her to get angry flowed somewhere from behind her.
“I know,” Amy grit through her teeth.
Great, now I’m going insane.
After 10 minutes of breathing exercises and imagining new binder smell and laminating the list of names she and Jake had come up with, Amy felt calm enough to try a creative solution that more or less got the job done.
(She threw the cotton ball on the floor near her foot and pulled out some serious moves to roll her toe around it and clean the wound.
Amy had never been so glad to be alone than in that moment.)
It took her nearly half an hour of rolling her leg, cursing in both English and Spanish and sweating profusely but in the end Amy had a band aid on her toe and the bathroom was a mess. She took a small break during which she triumphantly grinned at her toe and then set about cleaning the trash that she had piled up.
Amy thought cleaning would calm her down as it had always done but she was exhausted and the job took her twice as long as it normally would which only served to feed the red-hot ball of anger in her stomach. She felt dirty and tired, her toe slightly throbbed in pain and the weight of her belly screwed up her center of gravity even more than usual.
She wanted to cry.
Amy didn’t let herself, though, since she was a strong woman who was taught not to depend on anybody, so she sucked it up and took a quick (ish) shower which was colder than she would’ve liked but it wasn’t enough to break down the wall of determination she had built around herself.
She managed to lay back down on the couch to watch Ellen, only to find out that she had missed it.
By three hours.
The urge to cry hit her even more intensely than before.
However, the urge to smoke was even bigger.
Amy started pacing the living room until her hands started shaking and her knees screamed in protest. She sat down reluctantly on one of the chairs at the dining table but couldn’t keep herself from biting her nails.
Once the idea of smoking a cigarette (just one would be enough, she told herself) invaded her mind, it refused to go away. Amy had a big problem and she didn’t know what to do about it.
She didn’t know for how long she sat there when she heard the telltale click of the door unlocking.
“Babe, you will not believe this case Sarge assigned me today, I mean, it’s like Inception levels of mind-blowing, you’re gonna—“
Jake froze when he looked up and saw his wife at the dining table, biting her nails obsessively, a manic look in her eye and her hair done in small braids.
Oh no.
“Babe?”
There was no reaction; it was like she hadn’t noticed him entering or she was just too anxious to even look up at him. Jake left his keys on the table before shrugging off his jacket, satchel and sneakers, leaving them by the door to deal with later. He took a tentative step forwards but then moved back to the mess he left and started arranging his things in their designated spots, knowing that if Amy was at Level 4 of the Santiago Panic Scale as he suspected, she would get even more anxious as soon as she merely glanced at his items on the floor.
When he was confident enough that his things were in relative order, Jake padded quietly over to Amy who hadn’t ceased chewing her nails. Just as he was about to say her name softly and reach out to her, her frantic gaze snapped to his and Jake nearly shit his pants at how terrifying his wife looked at that moment.
(Thank God, she hadn’t taken out the braids yet because then Jake couldn’t guarantee what would’ve or wouldn’t have happened in his pants.)
“Jake!” Amy nearly shouted, fighting with the table to stand up quickly. Jake immediately moved to help her but she shooed him off and he took a step back. “Hey, aren’t you early? I feel like you’re early, maybe you aren’t, I don’t know, pregnancy screwed up my sense of time.”
“Ames—“Jake started, but Amy cut him off abruptly, grabbing his hoodie with both hands and pulling him close, her belly slightly digging into his stomach.
“I. Really. Need. To smoke.”
Jake blinked.
“What? Why? You haven’t had a craving in forever!”
Amy huffed out a frustrated breath, leaning away slightly from her husband but didn’t loosen her grip on him.
“I just… I had the most awful day and it’s never been so bad but I’m really tempted to take out that box of cigarettes in the toilet you’ve been hiding from me—“
“Wait, you know about that one?” Jake demanded in a high-pitched voice but Amy continued as if he hadn’t uttered a word.
“--and light one so I can stop feeling like, like… this and I need you to stop me.”
Amy’s quick speech was accompanied by frantic movements of her eyebrows and a pleading look in her eyes and it was so… Amy that Jake couldn’t help but grin down at his wife. Her pupils darted left and right to his own and he could see how worked up she was, so Jake gently pried her hands off his hoodie, enveloping them in his own before giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“Ames.”
Her eyes stopped flitting around and with them her entire body visibly relaxed but the tension wasn’t gone yet.
“I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?” Amy nodded.
“Good,” taking a deep breath, Jake walked them over to the couch and sat, Amy reluctantly following his lead. “Babe, if there is one person strong enough to overcome anything in the name of their child, it’s the mom. And you’re already an example of that, I mean, how many things did you give up already? Going to work, solving cases, Trivia Newton John, smoking?”
“Jake…” Amy started exasperatedly but he cut her off quickly.
“I mean it, Ames. You can do this, you’re one of the strongest women I know, the strongest even, but don’t tell Rosa or my mom about that.”
Amy let out a small chuckle and Jake felt his grin widen and his courage expand.
“I can’t pretend to know how hard it is to be pregnant but it’s my job to help you in whatever way I can as your husband and our baby daddy.”
“Don’t call yourself ‘baby daddy’,” Amy deadpanned.
“Roger that,” Jake nodded. “Look, don’t give up now, okay? We’ve got a little ways to go and I talked with the Captain and he agreed to give me the last two months off. Apparently I stacked enough vacation time and it won’t be a problem.”
Amy’s expression shifted to concern and uncertainty.
“Jake, are you sure? I don’t want you giving up working for me.”
“I’m not giving up anything, Ames. There’s no place I’d rather be than at your and our baby’s side.”
That red-hot ball of anger and anxiety in her stomach quickly morphed into that warm feeling Amy always got whenever Jake was being his usual supporting self and said something so romantic that her toes involuntarily curled. It spread through her chest, all the way to her joints and she tilted her head to the side, an affectionate smile lacing her features along with the tears she had been fighting to keep back, although they were not tears of frustration anymore. Jake was looking at her in wonder, his expression so unbelievably soft and his eyes sparkling warmly, that Amy didn’t hesitate in untangling her hands from his, only to cup his face with them and lean forwards. Jake didn’t miss a beat and met her halfway, considering the fact that she would have had trouble reaching with her belly in the way. The kiss was gentle, just a soft brush of their lips but it was somehow just right and both of them looked at each other with matching smiles when they pulled away.
“Thank you,” Amy said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Anytime,” Jake answered before clearing his throat and smirking slightly. “Now, will you tell me what happened today that got you so riled up?”
He shifted back, making space between them and leaned down to grab her feet and put them in his lap without breaking eye contact. As soon as he looked down, though, Jake immediately noticed the haphazardly put together band aid on her right foot’s big toe and his eyes widened comically.
“What the hell happened? Oh my God, are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere else? Let me see,” Jake almost shrieked and Amy lifted her hands up to stop him.
“I’m fine, Jake, it’s a long story.”
Her husband glared at her for a moment but she didn’t back down, going so far as to lifting up her chin in defiance, before he sighed in defeat and went to work with his massage. Amy bit back a satisfied moan – Jake really was good at foot massages.
(She would tell him in a quiet but filled with mirth voice the next night when Jake’s wrapped protectively around her beneath the warm covers of their bed but at that exact moment Amy didn’t want to be reminded of her bad day – she just wanted to spend some quality time with her dork of a husband.)
“You were telling me about a case? Something about ‘Inception levels of mind-blowing’?” Amy questioned with an excited grin on her face. Jake shook his head at her avoidance of the subject but said nothing, opting to quickly retrieve the case file from his satchel and passing it to his wife who had a mild look of annoyance on her face.
“Jake, I told you not to bring home case files from the precinct. Captain Holt will be so disappointed!”
“It’s fine, he won’t argue with a heavily pregnant Amy Santiago,” Jake deadpanned and Amy laughed heartily. “Okay, okay, you ready for this?”
“I was born ready, Peralta.”
Jake grinned.
“Okay. Get this: a jewelry store was robbed at around 4 AM yesterday and it had only one exit and a gajillion security alarms.”
Amy faked yawning.
“I was promised ‘Inception levels of mind-blowing’, Jake.”
“I know, hear me out. Crime techs reported that there were signs on the exit door being forced open… from the inside.”
Jake stared at his wife in anticipation, his mouth open in a wide grin and his eyebrows lifted so high on his forehead that it had started to hurt.
Amy was silent for a few moments before almost shouting in a high-pitched voice, “Whaaat?!”
And so Amy’s awful day ended with bouncing theories about an impossible case with her husband who managed to not only bring her dinner without her noticing but also continuing with his massage on her feet and making her laugh in-between with his impressions of possible suspects.
God, she loved him so much.