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it took them four tries to get pregnant. the first time around, it didn’t take at all. their doctor had prepared them for that, so fallon was prepared for that. kirby was prepared for that.
the second time around fallon lost herself between hormones and making sure her body and mind were in the perfect shape to carry their baby.
she miscarried a day before she got her test results.
after her second miscarriage, fallon broke down and two weeks later she let kirby know she couldn’t do it again. she couldn’t break her own heart again.
so kirby tried. they didn’t talk about it (kirby’s mom had said it was important to be realistic about things). they intentionally missed a follow up appointment (fallon had said she just wanted a few more days without a disappointment). kirby hates waiting, though, so she took a test. and then two more. and then a fourth, just to make sure.
she had spent so much time in shock and in awe, she didn’t have a moment left to set up a cheesy surprise for fallon when she walked in the door. but it worked. on their fourth try, on kirby’s first, they got pregnant.
it’s bliss.
pure. unadulterated. bliss.
she would be an asshole for biting the hand that feeds by complaining and she knows that. she can power through it all because she knows what’s waiting for her at the end of this god-awful ride.
“do you know what time it is?” fallon smothers a yawn behind her hand as she steps through the doorway between the hallway and living room to approach her wife. she’s championed herself as a feather-light sleeper her entire life which has proven useful in the worst of times, but now that she and kirby are permanently sharing a bed it feels like she never gets more than a consecutive two hours with the amount of moving around kirby does.
she moves towards the couch tiredly but not sluggishly (years of etiquette courses ensured she’s never sluggish ), stifling another yawn. “when did you even get up? i didn’t notice.”
“couldn’t sleep, really.” the redhead shrugs and dismisses fallon with a wave before she goes back to grinning into the bright light of her phone. fallon knows the face on the screen (not well, but she’s never really gotten the chance to know many of kirby’s “back home friends”) and quickly realizes that kirby’s on facetime with her best friend. “hey- hi,” she offers quietly when kirby turns the phone towards her momentarily. “i’m… going back to bed.”
when she settles into their silk sheets without an answer, she remembers how difficult it is to drift off without her partner next to her.
kirby has always been a shitty sleeper. it’s not that she’s a light sleeper like fallon, per se, but she’s never been good at falling asleep — and she’s even worse at staying asleep.
the morning sickness definitely isn’t helping.
neither is the heartburn, the unmanageably sore chest, the aching back, or the seemingly unending low grade humming headache that hit her like a burlap sack full of bricks in week 3 and has yet to dissipate 3 months on.
it’s fine, though. kirby is more than excited to be carrying their baby, and she knew the risks; fallon made sure she had known the risks. every appointment and heartbeat and flutter and update makes every shitty side effect seem like a drop of absolutely miserable water in an ocean of joy.
she just can’t fucking sleep.
it’s… almost a blessing; being awake before the crack of dawn means she gets time to hear her best friend’s voice more than usual, instead of utilizing their years-long, nonstop text thread. kirby hasn’t seen leona since she left for atlanta, and all this time the pair have only been able to share empty, but well-meaning platitudes about vacations and visits and sightseeing between both of their busy schedules.
so, it’s nice. all things considered.
being awake at 3:37am has its perks, like talking to leo, or like being able to cry at whatever’s on turner classic movies without fallon scoffing, or like being able to press her hands to the barely there swell of her lower abdomen to talk to their baby without fallon… scoffing.
but she’s so fucking tired.
—
“babe, come to bed. you have to try and get some sleep.” fallon’s been doing pretty well, all things considered. kirby’s mood, already unpredictable, falls to the side of irritable more often than not, and sometimes falls past it into plain misery. she’s not even crossing her arms as she stands in between the coffee table and tv set to glare at kirby, who’s settled into the couch nicely with a bowl of popcorn that bella refuses to stay away from. she’s being receptive , like sam has suggested. this is her being receptive.
“what’s the point?” kirby huffs, her eyes rolling. “i’ll get in bed, roll around for 3 hours, maybe find a good position for 10 minutes to close my eyes, and then i’ll get up to pee and then you will be mad that i’ve been moving around for 3 hours even though i’m sitting here telling you the entire ordeal isn’t worth it for anybody.
fallon’s mouth falls open slightly, ready to react negatively. she almost pops a vessel holding back against the reflex she has to roll her eyes or laugh or do anything that might upset kirby. “i don’t… get mad —”
“you get mad,” kirby responds flatly. she plucks a handful of popcorn out of the bowl and lays a few out on the couch for the dog before returning her attention to fallon.“and then—maybe even worse than you getting mad at me over literally nothing—you think it justifies being mean to me for like a full day afterward. boo hoo , i’m fallon and i only got seven hours and forty-five minutes of beauty sleep last night, how will i survive the day?”
fallon doesn’t laugh…
well, she shouldn’t , but kirby is just so ridiculous. plus, it doesn’t help that when she riles herself up, her accent comes out a little stronger than usual.
“god, and now you’re laughing at me? of fucking course.”
“n—kirby, i’m not laughing at you! please just—”
“fallon,” kirby shuts her eyes and hisses through a clenched jaw, “i swear to god if you tell me to relax right now...”
“just take a breath; i promise i’m not laughing at you.” she’s not laughing... outwardly, at least. fallon takes the remote from the table and shuts the tv off before holding out a hand. “come to bed, just for a little bit. i promise i won’t get mad if you can’t get comfortable, okay?”
kirby’s gaze shifts between fallon and her hand a few times, but she ultimately obliges.
it’s as miserable as she thought it would be.
she’s officially 16 weeks along and laying on her back feels like laying on a bed of needles and having a steamroller take its sweet, sweet time driving along the length of her body. she feels every thread and fiber in their sheets and there’s no amount of white noise or aroma therapy that can fix it, so she gets up.
when she gets to the doorway, fallon peeks up. “hey—”
“this…” kirby is doing her absolute best to keep her emotions at bay, but she is so frustrated and fed up and tired . “this sucks .” and with that, she leaves.
—
she just cries all the time, now. the morning sickness has let up (mostly), the heartburn is worse but that’s okay (apparently that means the baby has lots of hair), the constant low-level headache has melted away and turned into incapacitating 20-minute-migraines at random. she can deal with it all. but she’s so tired, she mostly just… cries.
it’s not like she gets no sleep. it took two full months but kirby managed to figure out two comfortable positions for her to sleep in that didn’t make her body feel like it was being tattooed with fire, but that doesn’t mean she sleeps well either. at best, she gets a solid three hours a night. at worst? maybe an hour combined.
so, kirby cries. it’s a frustrated, fed up, angry cry, but she cries.
fallon gets home long after she does most days, but when she pushes the door to their apartment in one afternoon her wife is scrolling through her phone in their armchair; kirby’s natural reaction is to yelp and drop her keys from her hand. “you scared me!”
“and your fight or flight response just… completely shut down? yikes.” fallon hops to her feet with a smile. “i have a surprise for you.”
“oh?” kirby lets the previously snarky comment go entirely, far too tired and preoccupied with regaining a normal heart rate to even try and muster up a response.
“bed.”
“oh?”
“no.”
effectively disappointed, kirby follows behind fallon to their bedroom to find— “what the hell is that?” her eyes widen as a disbelieving smile creeps across her face. “a body pillow?”
“it’s a pregnancy pillow. way better than a body pillow, and it’s supposed to help you sleep better.”
kirby snorts, much to fallon’s bewilderment. she toes off her shoes and makes a beeline for the bed, instantly wrapping the pillow around herself. as she rolls around to find the perfect spot, she says, “anything better than zero is— ohhh my god.”
it’s the softest thing she’s ever had on or near her body without a doubt. it’s extra long, so her legs are wrapped up in it as well, and it hugs the contours of her back and her bump like a full body sweatshirt and then some. “i love you so much,” she mumbles into the gray fabric.
fallon watches as sheer comfort and relief finally, finally wash over her wife’s face. smugly, she grins and moves closer to the bed. “who, me?” kirby’s back is towards her and the door as she lays in what was once and is once again her favorite sleeping position. “babe?”
she reaches out to touch kirby’s shoulder, then pulls it away to cover her mouth before she can laugh.
for once, her silence and the steady rise and fall of her back is all the validation fallon needs.