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Ymir was going to throw up.
She had been on a business trip, a six hour plane ride! from Historia, in Shingashina. Historia had assured her it would be okay, that the baby was another a month off, and like the dope she was, Ymir had believed her.
The baby- their baby , the sweet clump of cells inside Historia that gave Ymir a new reason to get up and out of bed every day. They’d been married a full decade, ten years of love and adoration. They’d met as high schoolers, and they had been inseparable ever since. Last Valentine’s day, Historia had a surprise for her.
“Go on,” She had said. “Open it.”
Ymir had dove her hand in the gift bag, brushing her hand through the pink colored crepe paper. She pulled out a rectangular object, wrapped tightly in crepe paper. She unwound it, slowly, until a pregnancy test had plopped into her hand.
Two little lines stared back at her on the test.
“R-really?” was all she could stammer out.
They’d been trying for a few months. They found a sperm donor, and had self-inseminated with an at home kit every time Historia’s cycle rolled around. They’d both been getting a little disheartened. After five months of negative tests, Ymir was having trouble staying positive.
But here, in her hands, was proof, tangible, hard proof, that they had created a little life, that they would be parents!
Ymir was simultaneously overjoyed and terrified.
She hoped it wouldn’t pass by too quickly.
But of course it had, and now Ymir stood, pacing frantically in the hospital's pastel waiting room, Judge Judy droning along on the television. Historia hadn’t even been the one to call her, it had been a panicked Armin who made the call.
“Ymir!’ He had said. “Where are you?”
“Shiganshina.” She has answered, a little preterved. She had stepped out of a meeting for this, and she felt like Armin was just jerking her around. He knew she was out on business this week.
“You need to come home, now. Historia’s gone into labor.”
“What!?” She had screamed into the phone, startling the little receptionist at a desk right outside the conference room.
“We don’t really know, she started bleeding and we, well Ymir, you need to hurry.”
“I’ll be there.” She said as she hung up, barely bothering to grab her briefcase before she was rushing out of the office, calling her secretary and telling her to book the first flight back to Trost.
And now she was chewing her nail to the quick waiting for news, good, bad, anything. The baby was six weeks, a month? early and Ymir couldn’t stop the rocking of her stomach.
Armin was there as well, and had tried his best to calm her down, before realizing it would be better for everyone in their general vicinity if he just shut the fuck up.
The only flight out of Shingasina was a red-eye, and between the six hour flight, hour long car ride to the hospital, and now the endless wait, Ymir felt like she was going to throw up. Historia and this baby were her everything, her only thing. She was an orphan, an only child. A bastard, that went without saying. But then she met Historia, she had someone to live for, to care for. And then, Historia gave her a gift she couldn’t even articulate, she gave her a family .
And nothing scared her more than losing that.
“Ymir…” Armin’s voice breaks her trance. “Y’alright?”
Ymir wipes at her eyes, tries to stifle her tears, but discovers it’s useless.
“Oh, Ymir.” Armin starts, his voice kind. “It’ll be okay.” He assures, reaching out and wrapping her in his arms, however awkwardly over the plastic armrest of the seat.
And so, nestled awkwardly in Armin’s far too small arms, she weeps, as openly as she ever had.
-----
“Can you focus? For like ten seconds, even?”
Historia stood with her arms crossed, lip out in an adorable pout. They were in what used to be Ymir’s office, but was now the baby’s nursery. Historia was five months along, and that infallible need to nest was rearing its head. She was holding paint swatches out at Ymir, to match the swipes on the wall. For all Ymir cared, they could paint the room rainbow and call it a day. She never thought she would be here, deciding on a room for a little her and Historia, so she found she could barely focus.
“Sorry, babe.” She reached her arms out, enveloping Historia from behind. Even now, she found herself a little nervous to place her hands on her stomach, spread her palms out flat, feel the life inside of her.
“Just, ugh.” Historia squirmed out of her grip and faced her. “Do you like the lavender or the mint?”
They had decided to be surprised with the gender of the child. Not that it mattered to them. Their whole nursery was going to be gender neutral, as were their child rearing plans.
“Uh...lavender. It’s sweet.” Ymir admitted honestly.
“Lavender it is” Historia decides, walking away from Ymir towards the dresser, to lay the paint swabs down.
Ymir doesn’t realize she’s zoned out until Historia taps her shoulder lightly.
“Hey,” She said. “Are you all right?”
Ymir can’t quite meet her gaze, fixing her eyes on a teddy bear perched on the dresser.
“I…” Her words trail off. “I…it just feels so real now.” She forces herself to look at Historia. “What if I fuck this up?”
“Oh, Ymir.” Historia starts, but Ymir cuts her off.
“What if I'm bad at parenting? What if I suck at it?” She says, charging on. “What if I completely fuck up our kid’s life?”
Hands reach out and take her own, and Ymir falls silent. She can feel harsh tears starting to sting at her eyes. One of Historia’s thumbs rubs soothingly over the back of her hand.
“Ymir…” Historia reaches her other hand up and cups Ymir’s cheek, forcing her to look down and make eye contact with her. Historia’s eyes are beautiful and blue, and seem to sparkle with the soft smile on her face. “It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be an amazing parent.”
Ymir starts to shake her head a little and she can feel Historia squeeze her hand harshly.
“You will, the fact that you’re so worried proves it. Okay?” She squeezes her hand again. “Do you believe me?”
“I-I, I don’t know yet.” She admits.
“And that’s okay, baby.” Historia pulls on Ymir’s hand until it’s laid gently against her stomach. “We still have a little time.”
Ymir nods, and stares down at her hand. Historia’s bump is still on the smaller side, growing by the day. The slight swell of her stomach made Ymir as nervous as it made her excited. It held so many possibilites, so many things to think about. First words, first steps, first day of school. It had her nearly overwhelmed.
And then suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts, was a feeling against her hand. A movement. A flutter- a kick?
“Oh my god…” Ymir looks up at Historia frantically. “Did you feel that?”
Historia herself looks a little stunned, a faint blush across her cheeks.
“Yeah,” She says softly, her voice full of wonder. “Yeah, I- Oh! There it goes again!” Her face breaks into a full grin. Ymir can’t help but smile too as she feels another little kick against her palm.
And as they stood there, feeling the first signs of life inside of Historia’s stomach, Ymir felt her stress melt away.
-------
It didn’t stay away for long, Ymir would soon find out.
There was always something to worry about: health insurance, maternity leave, how to make all the clothes they were given from the baby shower fit in the shitty tiny dresser they had in the nursery.
But one thing Ymir never had to worry about was Historia. She was calm and collected the whole time. Even when she was doubled over with morning sickness, head pressed to the bowl, she would grin up at Ymir and utter something about how this would all be worth it, in the end. Her cravings were usually easily sated, if not unusual, but Ymir read that was normal. Ymir read all the time, parents books and blogs, articles by doulas and midwives, even the parenting section of the newspaper. Historia always teased her for it.
“Don’t worry.” She would say “You worry too much! ”
I can’t help it Ymir would echo. ” I just can’t help it. ”
But then Historia would take her hand in her own, place it on her belly and lean up and kiss her, slow and deep, and parrot out, “I promise, you’ll never have to worry about me”
------
But now worry was the only feeling Ymir could feel, the panic of losing the baby, of losing Historia coursing through her like lightning. No matter how much Armin tried to calm her, nothing worked. She had already snapped at the doctors who had come to deliver updates, already glared at everyone in the waiting room so much that they had been given a near ten foot berth by the rest of the visitors. Her phone had died long ago, time only being told by the changing of the shitty soap-operas of the little TV in the corner.
The room was windowless too, time suddenly lasting forever and lasting for mere seconds.
“Mrs. Reiss?” a voice, tentative, no doubt having heard of Ymir’s attitude, calls out. Ymir stands quickly, nearly knocking the chair she had been in over. It had been two full soap operas and one paid programming since they’d had an update.
“I’m Doctor Zoe. I’m happy to tell you your wife is fine. They’re stabilizing her, and you should be able to visit her soon.” The person says, a soft smile on their face.
“And the baby?” Ymir asked, hushed, afraid.
“Oh! Ha!” The doctor lets out a laugh that has Armin and Ymir exchanging glances. “Beautiful little boy, perfectly healthy, if not a little on the smaller side.”
The doctor keeps talking, Ymir thinks, but she collapses back into her chair as soon as she hears they were both safe, every other noise completely blacked out. She feels something wet on her face, tears she thinks belatedly. Armin is saying something now, to the doctor, reaching a hand out to touch Ymir’s shoulder.
But Ymir doesn’t feel it, doesn’t feel anything except swooping, immense gratitude, and the chorus of safe, safe, safe that thrums in her heart.
------
“She’ll be a little groggy.” The doctor warns, as they lead Ymir to Historia’s room. Armin insisted on staying behind. It’s important you go alone! he had said, and Ymir was simultaneously grateful and terrified.
They wind through the hospital, until they stop at a door with a little clipboard on it that reads, Reiss, Historia .
“She’s right in there.” The doctor says, gently pushing the door open. Ymir feels her knees lock, and isn’t sure she can take the step forward, until Dr. Zoe places a warm hand on her back and pushes her in the room.
The room is small, peaceful. The walls are pastels, a large window letting in bright rays of sunlight. Historia is there, lying in the middle of the large bed, asleep, her hair fanned around her like a halo. Ymir feels her breath catch, and rushes over. She hovers for a moment before she notices what’s next to Historia.
A tiny plastic bassinet.
Inside was a squirming baby. Their squirming baby, Ymir reminds herself. He was red faced, dwarfed by the newborn hat that was placed on his head. Ymir walks over slowly, cautiously.
Despite being swaddled, their baby wiggled impatiently, like he was ready to be up and walking around. Ymir stares down at him, his little button nose, his tiny little ears. His eyes- Historia’s eyes.
He pops an eye open and stares up at Ymir. They hold eye contact for a second, before he smiles and squirms somemore.
Ymir knows it has to be gas, that’s what they always say, but she couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter at his little lips, his empty gums.
“Ymir?”
Ymir whips her head back towards the bed.
“Oh, Historia.” Is all she can manage before she is crouching down next to Historia, pulling her into a probably too tight hug. “Historia.” She covered the crown of her head in little kisses, until Historia lets out a light laugh.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She says, breathy.
“God, you scared me, His.”
“I know.” Historia says, and Ymir can see her eyes start to fill with tears. “Scared myself.”
“Hey, hey,” Ymir kisses all over her forehead and cheeks, holding her close to her chest. “It’s all right. Not your fault.”
At that, the baby lets out a squeal, sharp against Ymir’s ears.
“Oh…” Historia tries to shift, to see the baby, and it occurs to Ymir that Historia probably hasn’t even gotten to hold him yet.
“Here.” And then Ymir isn’t sure how she does it, but she gently scoops the baby up, the way the books taught her too, and lays him down in Historia’s waiting arms.
“He’s beautiful.” She says, her voice a whisper.
“Of course he is,” Ymir says with a grin. “He looks just like his momma.”
Historia rolls her eyes a little, but she can’t help but grin too, before focusing her gaze back on the little bundle in her arms.
“We don’t have a name.” She says, taking in her baby for the first time, who coos and nuzzles softly in Historia’s breast. “Came too fast, we don’t even have a name.”
Ymir had to laugh at that. It was the first time Historia had sounded worried for eight months.
“It’s okay.” Ymir says, crouching down to be eye level with Historia and their baby. She feels calm all of the sudden. “We still have a little time.”
And that’s how Armin found them a couple of hours later when he was finally allowed in, Ymir and Historia, cocooned around a little bundle, eyes bright with joy and excitement. Ymir pulling little faces, cooing at the baby that only stares back at her in wonder. Ymir, who bustles around the room, doing diaper changes, grabbing anything Historia could need.
Armin couldn’t help but smile.
He knew Ymir would be a natural.