Chapter Text
october
“More book.” Leah’s barely keeping her eyes open, her eyelids falling before she blinks herself awake yet another time. “Read more book?”
“We’ve read three books already,” Amy reminds the almost-two-year-old bookworm snuggling into her side. “I think it’s time to sleep.”
“More book,” Leah insists another time. A yawn follows immediately after her request, and it’s hard for Amy to keep from laughing.
“Tomorrow, baby,” she promises instead, tucking her daughter’s wild hair between her ears and kissing her forehead. “We’ll read more books tomorrow.”
“Mor-row.”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
“More books mor-row,” comes with another yawn. “Night?”
“Yeah, it's time to say goodnight. I love you,” she whispers, hugging the child tight. “Dream sweet dreams and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She almost expects a reply, but there isn’t one, because Leah’s already drifting to sleep. Once she’s given in to the exhaustion, she’s passed out in a matter of seconds. Their daughter's unswerving competitive streak shines through even at bedtime; the same series of events have been occurring for several months now. Leah will insist she's not tired even as she starts yawning repeatedly, demand they read book after book and fall asleep in under a minute once she finally gives in to her inevitable need to rest sometimes.
Amy carefully moves the child’s arms off her own chest to free herself from the warm embrace, steps out of the toddler bed and tucks her daughter in an extra time.
She stays for a while after Leah’s fallen asleep. She always stays a few minutes at her daughter’s bedside, trying to prolong the utter beauty and calm of the moment as long as possible. Leah’s getting so big now, enough so to fit into a toddler bed and sleep in her own room, and even though it’s come on gradually, the toddler’s raised level of independence brings on a lot of emotions for Amy. It feels like yesterday this kid was a helpless infant stuck to her like a band-aid near twenty-four seven and now she's a child, a child with personality and interests who waves through the window when she's dropped off at daycare in the morning and falls asleep in her own room like she never did anything else. It makes Amy entirely convinced time is moving too fast.
The all too quick progress of time is one of the reasons she cherishes these peaceful moments so much. When Leah's asleep, all innocent and relaxed and clutching onto the blanket with one fist, it seems like the passing of time stops for a moment; like there's nothing else but the perfect sight of her sleeping. She looks both so big and so small like this, Amy thinks. It's painfully clear she's no longer the tiny baby she used to be, but she never looks younger, more angelic, than she does when she's asleep. It makes Amy’s heart swell with love as the toddler reaches out for the stuffed lion animal she refuses to go to bed without, smiling in her sleep.
“You're the best thing in my life,” she whispers to her daughter before she leaves the room. “I love you so much.”
She tells her the same thing every night, meaning it as much every time.
However, despite how much she means those words, Amy’s willing to admit Leah isn’t exactly the master of tidiness yet. The living room and kitchen looks like a medium-sized volcano erupted there when really, all that went down was Amy trying to feed a stubborn toddler dinner and attempting to do some work from home while Doc McStuffins on the iPad kept said toddler entertained. Now she has to spend a good ten minutes putting dishes in the dishwasher and toys in the toy bin while she waits for her husband to come home.
Neither of them work as many late shifts anymore, but they still usually have to suffer through it at least once a week. Amy loathed these nights on her own before having a baby and found herself getting bored of it way too soon, but she values them now; they’re the longest stretch of proper alone time she gets in her current everyday life. Sometimes she uses this time to do extra work on her computer, but she's all caught up tonight, so she settles for pouring herself a glass of wine and curling up on the sofa with a crossword puzzle she’ll actually have time to solve.
It’s just her luck, then, that when she truly has the time to delve deep and challenge her brain, she stumbles upon the easiest clue she’s seen in a long time.
Seven letters across, someone with the same mother and father as you, ending in a g. She snorts at the basic level of the puzzle and fills in SIBLING without missing a beat before moving on to the next clue.
It's just a word, an answer for a too-simple hint in a crossword whose level is frankly beneath her, but once she writes it down she can't stop thinking.
It’s a meaningless reminder with zero connection to her personal life. It doesn’t mean anything, she reminds herself, but it reawakens an already budding thought nonetheless.
Leah’s the perfect age to have a sibling. She must be, because whenever Amy is dropping the girl off at daycare, she swears every other mom there is either pregnant or bringing a newborn with them. Two years is the age gap between the majority of her own siblings. Two years is what she and Jake talked about in their early discussions, agreeing on a goal of two kids which got dropped and was never brought up again after their first child successfully upended their lives in the best way. She supposes they never talked about settling for one child, either - they’d simply felt complete for the moment.
Half a glass of wine makes her significantly tipsier now than before she had a baby, so maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the fact that she recently turned thirty-nine, and she may be a Santiago, but even her mom had her last baby at forty. Maybe it’s the fact that she recently sorted through their storage space and found the boxes of Leah’s old baby clothes they saved, holding up the miniature onesies and tearing up in disbelief she ever had a baby tiny enough to fit in those items. Maybe it’s solely a random thought, brought on by a comically simple clue in a crossword puzzle. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make her put down the pen and crossword on the couch table and go get the photo albums she created for her pregnancy and Leah’s first year.
She’s halfway through the first album and all the way through her glass of wine by the time she hears the door unlock.
“Hey, wife.” Even after four years of marriage, Jake’s smile is wide and dorky when he says it, like he still can’t believe they’re married and he gets to come home to her at the end of the day. “Is Lee asleep?”
“Yeah, she fell asleep an hour ago,” she replies, feeling her heart melt seeing how despondent he looks at the news, pouting his lips while he hangs up his jacket and messenger bag. “But go in and tell her goodnight anyway? I know she missed you.”
“I missed her. And you, too.” He makes a detour for the couch, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips before heading for their daughter’s bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
She flips through the last pages of the first album while she waits for him. It feels like ages ago the pictures in it were taken and surreal to think she’d ever been that pregnant, although she remembers it vividly at the same time. The longing, the curiosity, and the never-ending wait for it all to be over so she could finally meet the person hiding inside her; it feels like yesterday, and yet it's perplexing to think there ever was a time before she knew her daughter.
She misses it. Not living without Leah, not for a second, not even when they’re both exhausted and the toddler is crying and Amy never wants to hear the theme song to Doc McStuffins ever again in her life, but the excitement of waiting for an entirely new little person to arrive and change their lives forever - she misses that feeling enough to long for a chance at experiencing it again. She wants another unbelievably tiny person to hold and snuggle and watch grow, another beautiful combination of herself and the man she loves most who she gets to see turning into their own unique individual, and she’s thought about it for quite some time but is certain now; she wants another child.
“What are you looking at?” Jake sinks down in the armchair next to her, leaning his head over her shoulder. “Aww, those pictures. Wow. A long time ago.”
“Yeah.” She smiles, turning the page to the first spread of Leah's precious newborn pictures. Even after two years, it's hard for her to look at them without tearing up at the sight of her firstborn so tiny and new and perfect from the very first moment, and she has to use the sleeve of her hoodie to dry her eyes. “Two years, huh?”
“It’s insane.”
“It is,” Amy admits, tearing her gaze away from a photograph of an hours-old Leah asleep on her chest to look up at Jake. “I wanted to talk to you about a thing.”
“A thing,” he repeats teasingly, an amused grin on his lips. “Sounds specific.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve just been thinking about something.”
“I’m listening.” He stands up, sitting down at the other edge of the couch instead when she moves her legs aside, and she takes a deep breath to gather her confidence.
Finding the right words seem impossible at first. They feel momentous, and she's unsure whether it’s something he’s thought about or not. Amy silently chides herself for not asking - she needs to start learning from her mistakes. Jake’s watching her with an air of expectancy, leaning one arm on the back of the couch and resting his head on his bicep.
“So I know we’re a great little family as we are, right now,” she treads carefully.
“The best.”
“Yeah, the best.” She reaches out her free hand, taking his in hers as they share a smile. “But I’ve been thinking about it for a little while, in the back of my head, and I… I think it could be a good time.”
He crinkles his forehead. “Good time for what?”
Amy rambles the following words way too quickly. “What would you say about maybe adding another member to it?”
There’s a beat of silence as what she’s said begins to sink in for him. Her heart is racing, not in an unbearable way but one that makes her short of breath nonetheless, and she’s watching every minute movement of her husband’s face as he runs a hand through his hair, a spark of excitement flashing in his eyes.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I hope so.”
His grin grows wider, and there’s a split second where she thinks he’s going to tear up before he speaks. “Oh my god, you changed your mind about getting a cat?!”
She’s literally taken aback, pulling her hand out of his and leaning backward on the couch. Scrunching her nose and shaking her head, she tries and fails to make sense of the obvious miscommunication.
“Babe, what are you even talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” He looks about as confused as she feels, twisting his face like he’s somewhere between deep frustration and outright laughter.
“When did we ever talk about getting a cat?”
“Last week, after I went over to Craig’s house with Leah?”
“Craig with the hat or Craig with the creepy identical twins?”
“Craig the single dad with the twins, and they’re not creepy, they’re just very identical and I’m not saying I hope Leah stays friends with them until they’re older and I can influence them to dress up like the twins from The Shining for Halloween, but I wouldn’t mind it, you know. Anyway, they have the most amazing cat,” he says, making heart-eyes at the mention. “She’s called Luna and she’s so fluffy and her breed is allergy-friendly and Leah totally adored her, so I asked you when we were going to sleep if you thought we should get a cat sometime, and you said not until Leah’s older. So - did you change your mind?”
“Jake, was that the same day I went to Shaw’s with Rosa?”
“Might have been - ohh,” he realizes, nodding slowly. “Your alcohol tolerance sucks. You don’t remember.”
“I really don’t, no. Either way,” she shrugs, “that’s not what I was saying.”
“So what were you saying?”
“I thought I was making it obvious with the album and all, but I guess not.” She reaches for his hand again. “What I was trying to say, is that I want to start trying for another baby. If you want to.”
If he looked confused before, he’s completely bewildered now, mouth gaping and brows raised.
“Wait, Ames. You want a baby?”
“Yeah! Why's that such a shock?”
“I don't know,” he laughs, “because you explicitly told me we were never having another baby? Multiple times?”
“I did? When?”
“Every single day for the first and last two months of your pregnancy? While you were in labor? After?”
“Well, obviously I didn't want another baby then,” she explains, rolling her eyes again. “But I want one now.”
“Cool. It's just, you also gave me highly specific instructions about how if you ever insisted on having another kid, I would remind you of exactly how awful pregnancy and childbirth was until you changed your mind.”
“Really?”
“I know because I wrote it down,” says Jake, reaching for the phone in his pocket. “It's somewhere in my notes, what you asked me to write…”
“That's okay, you don't have to read it to me -”
“Here it is! If Amy ever says she wants another baby, remind her of how awful labor was and how it felt like she was going to pass out from the pain before the epidural and also how much it burned to push a - uh,” he blushes, “ you know roughly what it says. “ If that doesn't work and she still insists she would do it again, remind her of how much it sucked to feel perpetually nauseous for the first three months of pregnancy, or be the size of an above-average walrus and constantly in pain for the last two. ” Jake puts down the phone in his lap, doing a sharp inhale for dramatic effect. “If she still says she could do it, please do everything in your power to convince her otherwise. There’s more, but - I think you get the gist.”
“...I asked you to write this down?”
“Yes. Yes, you very much did.”
She’s trying not to laugh, but the thought of her being so obdurate about not wanting another baby she penned an entire defense speech against herself and made Jake keep it is wildly entertaining, and before she knows it, she’s giggling uncontrollably at the entire concept. It only takes seconds before Jake’s laughing too, and she moves closer to him, squeezing him tight in a hug.
“You’re adorable for saving that, you know?”
“Well, you were very intense about it.” He leans back just enough to press a quick, delicate, kiss to her lips. “But to be fair, you did hate a lot of things about pregnancy and childbirth.”
“Huge fan of the result, though.”
“Mm,” he nods, giving her a dreamy smile that partly makes her want to cry happy tears and partly makes her want to jump him then and there. She supposes her busted alcohol tolerance isn’t helping much. “That I have to agree with.”
“And, I mean, I did do it. Even if it sucked, I’ve survived it once, you know?”
“You aced it.”
“So I’m pretty sure I could do it again. And I know I apparently told you two years ago to convince me otherwise,” she says, meeting his gaze with purpose. “But I do want it.”
“Okay.”
“So how do you feel about it?”
“How do… I feel?” Lines are forming between his eyebrows, his head tilting while he looks like he’s diverting all his brain-power to this one question.
“Yeah. Do you want another baby?”
“Oh. Wow.” Jake runs both of his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just always assumed you definitely didn’t want another one and left it at that? Didn’t exactly feel like my thing to decide.”
“I love how considerate you are,” she tells him softly. “But you must have thought about it, right?”
“Well… yeah. I guess for me, I started thinking about another one from the point Leah started sleeping through the night. Maybe a month after. Whenever I started to feel human again,” he chuckles, and the corners of her mouth quirk up. “I didn’t say anything because I figured it’s not what you wanted. But if you changed your mind, then...”
“So you’re in?”
“I’m in,” he says without a trace of doubt in his voice, and she kisses him hard.
They’re so close, Amy’s practically straddling him, and perhaps she didn’t mean trying for a baby as in right-this-second here-and-now , but he’s smiling against her lips and their daughter’s deep asleep by now and there’s alcohol in her blood and he’s just made her so indisputably happy , she’s everything but bothered by his lips trailing down her jawline, her neck, her shoulders.
“Just to check,” he mumbles, his breath warm against the skin over her now exposed collarbones as she’s running her hands along the back muscles he always claims he doesn’t have. “This isn’t some kind of elaborate scheme to get in my pants more often, then?”
“Please , like I’d ever need a scheme.”
~
november
They start properly planning the next day.
Amy’s heart is beating hard with excitement as she throws away the package of mini-pills in the morning, and she’s almost jittery when she stops at CVS after her work shift to buy ovulation test strips and fertility supplements. She never got to do this the first time around, when she simply went off her birth control intending to letting her body adjust and found herself pregnant after a couple of months of next to no active trying. She’d be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the structure part of it now. Tracking, planning, color-coding. Hoping.
What speaks against her getting pregnant all too easily is her age, every website reminds her. Words like geriatric pregnancy and low ovarian reserves and even increased risk of stillbirth are thrown at her from every angle, causing her to bite her nails with stress while she's researching on her laptop at night. Jake catches her one evening, deeply submerged in a thread about success rates of IVF while she's twirling her hair to the beginning of a stress braid, and after prying the computer away from her hands, he dutifully reminds her that she's a Santiago. Getting pregnant is no match for her. It worked out in no time for them before, and sure, they’re a few years older now, but they’ll be just fine, he repeats to her while massaging her tense shoulders until she relaxes in his arms. Surely he’s right, she figures. Santiago genes are strong, she’s been pregnant before, her body knows what to do. She’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.
It still doesn’t make the disappointment she feels when she gets her period any less palpable. It’s ironic, because she managed to convince herself she wasn’t hoping for it so well she started believing it, but it feels like a failure and an insult all at once when she digs out the yellow tampon box from the bathroom cupboard. Her eyes are drawn to the packet of spare pregnancy tests she keeps there, and there's a sharp pang in her chest at the realization that they won't be necessary right now. She bites her lip and pushes them further back in the storage space. Maybe next month , she tells herself, splashing cold water on her face and taking three deep breaths before exiting the bathroom.
She’s feeling gloomy and disgusting - most likely an unlucky combination of the disappointment and PMS - and the only thing she wants to do is go lie down in bed for the remainder of the evening with a heating pad and Jake massaging her. Before kids, it’s what she could and would have done. Now she has an overly energetic toddler to consider, and said toddler turns two tomorrow, so Amy already knows putting her to bed tonight will be a lengthy and arduous process. Technically, Jake is in charge of it, but judging from the laughter and upbeat Taylor Swift songs coming from the kitchen, it's not going too well.
What she sees upon exiting the bathroom only confirms her suspicions. Paper Rings is playing from their Bluetooth speaker, and although Leah's out of her bath and dressed in her best Harry Potter pajamas, she seems as far from sleep as ever. Jake has her on his hip, spinning and dancing around and eliciting the best noises in the world for every questionable note he sets - the sound of their daughter's laughter.
Amy knows she should be upset, because according to their tried-and-true nighttime routine Leah should have been in bed twenty minutes ago, but it's such a pure sight that she can't bring herself to protest. Jake's so into it, exaggerating every facial expression and movement to the song for his daughter's enjoyment, and Leah's positively beaming as she looks up at him. It's such a testament to their whole relationship, Amy thinks. Jake would walk to the ends of the earth for his daughter's happiness, and Leah would do her best to run after on her little legs, all the while shouting at him to wait for her. She adores him and he would do anything for her, and it's a dream come true for Amy to get to see their relationship grow each day.
“Ames! Wanna join?” Jake’s out of breath after the singing and dancing, but still grinning as he extends her the offer.
“I'm good,” she laughs, feeling very much not in the mood to bust out her non-existing dancing abilities. “Care to explain why there's a dance party going on in here instead of nighttime stories?”
“Taylor Swift is one of our time’s greatest songwriters, and therefore her music could virtually be seen as stories?” He tries, and she shakes her head. “Fine. A certain someone didn't want to go to bed yet, so we're getting rid of all that excess energy.”
“I wonder why that could be, it's not like it's anyone's birthday tomorrow or anything.”
Leah's face lights up at the sound of her new favorite word. “My birthday!”
“Yeah, your birthday,” Jake confirms with a kiss to his daughter's head. “Do you remember how big you're going to be?”
“Two!” She exclaims, glowing with pride. “Two years!”
“That's right,” says Amy, walking up to Jake and Leah so she can join them in a hug. Though she still has her doubts about the efficiency rate of dance parties as part of a nighttime routine, it seems to have worked for tonight - Leah’s eyes are shiny with exhaustion, her cheeks are getting rosy, and she almost sinks into Amy’s arms when they hug. “You’re going to be two. You just have to go rest for a little bit first, and when you wake up it’ll be your birthday. How does that sound?”
Leah yawns. “Not ti-red.”
Jake laughs, and Amy can’t help but smile either as the toddler watches him with confusion.
“Okay then, Lee the tiny bumblebee,” he offers, booping her nose. “How about we say goodnight to mama anyway, and then we go be awake but in your bed for a while?” Leah nods, and Amy’s given another sweet hug that makes every single worry disappear momentarily before they leave.
Her anxiety returns as quickly as it vanished. Once her husband and daughter are out of sight, she’s reminded their incredible little family will categorically not be growing by one in nine months, and maybe she wasn’t expecting it to happen in an instant, but subconsciously, it seems like she was. She’s never been good at accepting her failures, and perhaps not getting pregnant in the first month of actively trying isn’t a failure by definition, but it feels like one to Amy.
There’s no time to wallow in it, though. The following day might be a Monday and both her and Jake are working, but they are celebrating their daughter’s second birthday with a pancake breakfast even if they have to spend the night preparing for it. Amy figures she could always get started on the pancake batter while she waits for her husband.
She’s mixing the dry ingredients into the wet ones when Jake sneaks up on her. His arms snake around her waist, his chin leaning on her shoulder, and she giggles instinctively when he starts pressing feather-light kisses to the side of her neck, tickling her.
“Is Lee sleeping?” She asks, and he nods.
“Out like a light after half a story. Then I had to make my way out without waking her up somehow, which was pretty tough considering she was holding onto my arm with a death grip. Took me like ten minutes, but I did it. Also, are you making pancake batter?”
“I am.” He dips the edge of his finger in it before she can protest, but then he screws up his face and shakes his head.
“Oh, Ames, there’s like, twice as much salt in this as it should be. Didn’t you follow the recipe?”
“I know how to make pancakes, I don’t need a recipe.”
“Yes, you do. Honey, I love you a lot, but you are not a natural at cooking. I’ll make another batch,” he says, taking the bowl away from her and beginning to rinse it out in the kitchen sink.
“Fine,” she mumbles, feeling a sense of defeat wash over her, and he must sense her unenthusiasm because he gives her a curious look, his eyes narrowing with concern.
“Is something wrong, babe?”
“No. Yes. No... I don’t know.” She sits up on the counter while Jake gets out the ingredients she just put away and pulls up a recipe on his phone. “I, uh, got my period.”
“Oh,” he says, in such a caring and affectionate tone it melts her heart again. “Do you need anything? Painkillers? Hugs? A massage?”
“No, I feel pretty okay - thank you, though. It’s just - that means I’m not pregnant.”
“Well, duh - ooohhh ,” he realizes. “I see.”
Amy frowns. “Did you forget we were trying for a baby?”
“Not in any way, shape or form. But I thought it was obvious it could take a few months? You were repeating it to me over and over while you made that color-coded schedule.”
“I was,” she admits. “And I know. I was just... hoping. A little. I’m impatient, okay?”
Jake stops mixing the dry ingredients, pointing the spoon at her and consequently almost shooting a cloud of flour and vanilla powder her way. “Maybe you should do patience-training like Leah.”
“I’d like to state in front of the jury that I rarely lay down on the floor and cry when I don't get to have dessert for dinner.”
“Touché,” he says with a grin. “Anyway, I'm sorry.”
“...Are you apologizing for not getting me pregnant?”
“What - no!” Jake grimaces. “Wait, should I? I meant I’m sorry you’re sad. I get it. But a month is nothing, Ames. We’ll try again, it’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She’s waving her legs from the counter absentmindedly, feeling the most intense waves of frustration beginning to lift as he takes a break mixing the wet ingredients to wrap his arms around her waist again, reaching for a kiss.
“Of course I am. Now, do you want to help me make these pancakes for our soon-to-be two-year-old?”
The disappointment lingers like a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, but as she puts batter in the pan and Jake fries pancakes while they chat about how crazy it is that their daughter is somehow turning two years old and they'll have to remind Charles he can't buy everything Leah’s ever pointed to in a store for her birthday, it's easier to manage.
She'll be fine, she repeats to herself. They'll be fine. Maybe next month, she'll be pregnant.
“Two years ago this time we were watching Mamma Mia! ,” Jake reminisces as he flips another pancake. They're slightly uneven in size, but at least they're not burnt, so Amy supposes they're already better than what she could have accomplished. “And you were having contractions while trying to convince me you weren't having contractions.”
“I didn’t think I was!”
“Sure you didn’t,” he teases, and she rolls her eyes. “Craziest day of my life, that's for sure.”
“So worth it, though,” Amy whispers, and Jake smiles, squeezing her shoulder with his free hand. “We did well.”
“And we will another time.” He must read her mind somehow, she thinks, bringing up what she was already thinking. “It’ll work out soon, Ames. You’re a Santiago.”
“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath, partly to calm the stubborn wave of disappointment and partly because she’s starting to feel the familiar dull pain in her stomach by now. Jake puts the last pancake on the plate of them before turning the heat off, and then, as if he’s sensing her anxiety and discomfort, wraps her in a warm hug. The remaining heat from the stove almost makes it feel a little clammy, but he nuzzles his nose against her forehead and it’s soothing, a cherished moment of utter intimacy and safety.
“It’ll be fine, babe. Do you think we should get at least a couple hours of sleep before our birthday kid wakes up so early it should be classified as inhumane?”
“We should,” she agrees, trying not to groan when she shifts slightly and her cramps intensify. “I’ll clean up in here, and then I’ll take you up on that massage offer.”
Jake presses a kiss to the top of her head. “One heating pad and one back massage coming right up.”
Amy falls asleep in his arms that night, and it doesn’t erase the gnawing feeling making a home in her stomach, but it mitigates it.
Surely Jake is right about this, she figures. She’ll get pregnant in another month or two.
It won’t be a problem.
~