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Well, shit.
Those were the words currently running through your head. You were sitting on the edge of your bathtub, staring at a stick in your hands that seemed to be taunting you with two thin blue lines. You spun the stick in your hands, flipping it over and over like you were trying to see if magically the second blue line would vanish, but nope. The lines stayed firmly where they had appeared, too bold for them to be an accident or a false positive.
Flipping over the other two sticks confirmed the exact thing you had suspected for a few weeks- you were pregnant. You had wondered if it was a possibility once you realized you were three weeks late, but you held off taking a test for a little longer, gaslighting yourself into thinking you were just stressed. When nothing happened, though, you were forced to confront the very real possibility at hand.
The three tests sat in a line on your bathroom counter now. You were half thankful your husband wasn’t home, but the other half of you wished he was there so you didn’t have to be alone in the moment. Pulling out your phone, you checked the time- 7:30. He would be getting off in a half hour, then making the half hour walk back to your house, so you had an hour to wrap your mind around everything.
The first thing you did was gather up the three tests and take them to your bedroom, wrapping them in a pair of your socks and putting them in the back of your dresser drawer. The second thing you did was catch a glimpse of yourself in the full length mirror on the closet door, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lifting up your shirt to look at your stomach. You were definitely not far enough along to have a defined bump, but the bloating you had felt for the last week was faintly visible- not the dairy you had eaten after all.
“Damn.” You breathed, dropping your shirt back down and rubbing your eyes.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket just then, and you pulled it out. The contact name “Mira :)” flashed across your screen, and from the quick text summary on the screen it looked like she was probably asking you for advice picking a dress to wear for her date that night. Instead of texting back, you hit the Facetime button without a second of hesitation.
“Hey!” Samira said excitedly, answering the phone almost instantly.
“Hey,” You said, trying to match her enthusiasm and failing instantly.
She noticed immediately, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s wrong? I know you didn’t call me just to tell me which dress looks hotter.”
“No, but I want to see both of them, so try them on.” You said, propping your phone on your dresser against a photo frame so Samira could see you from the waist up while you rifled through your drawers.
“Only if you tell me what’s wrong, you look like someone kicked your puppy.” She propped her phone up as well, most likely on her vanity based on the brushes and bottles that suddenly framed the camera on either side. She paused, looking back at the camera. “Did someone kick Cooper?”
“No, no, he’s fine.” You quickly reassured her, thinking about the sleeping goldendoodle puppy in the living room.
“Okay, so why the long face?” Samira stepped out of frame, most likely pulling one of the dresses based on the way her shirt got tossed in frame onto her bed.
“So… you know how Michael and I have been married for a year?” While everyone called your husband Robby, you were the only person who called him by his first name, Michael, which easily confused new people who then assumed you had a mistress on the side. Luckily, Samira worked with both of you, and understood who you were talking about.
She popped her head back in frame, eyebrow cocked and lips pressed together. “No, actually, I had no idea. It’s not like I was the maid of honor of anything.”
“Mira…” You found the socks in the back of your drawer again and pulled them out, starting to unroll them.
“Fine, fine.” Another rustle and thud, followed by a, “Shit, that hurt.”
“You okay?” You asked, and she stepped in frame then, wincing slightly but nodding. “Holy shit, you look hot in that.”
“Yeah, sorry, stubbed my toe. And thanks!” She did look hot in a red bodycon dress that went mid thigh on her, you were being fully honest there. “It’s new!”
“Is it serious between you and Jack?” You joked, winking at her and bursting out into laughter when she waved a hand at you and winked back, her own laughter escaping her. “No, seriously, that one looks great on you. I don’t even know that I need to see the other one.”
“Well, too bad, I’m trying it on anyway. Now tell me why you called or I’m not going for drinks with you next week.”
You winced instinctively- drinks were off the table for you now, weren’t they? Eh, mocktails and non-alcoholic drinks could taste just as good sometimes, you supposed. “About that.”
“You better not be canceling again!”
“No, I can still come, but…” You took a deep breath. You didn’t want to tell her anymore, weren’t sure you wanted to say the words out loud. Saying it made it real. Did you want it to be real? “I can’t drink.”
There was silence on her end for a moment, and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your friend slowly walked back into frame, this time in a yellow dress that had little ruffles running along the bottom, but she didn’t seem at all interested in the dress, eyes wide and staring you down. “(Y/N)?”
“Yeah?” You whispered, hands shaking as you slipped the sticks out of the socks just under the view of the camera.
“I have two theories here.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the vanity. You held your breath, watching the wheels in her head turn, before she took a deep breath. “Are you going sober?”
“Temporarily?” You squeaked out, and that was her cue.
“(Y/N) Robanivitch. Are you fucking pregnant?” She whisper yelled, leaning down close to the camera. “Are you??”
You were, apparently, a lot more emotional about the situation than you thought, because the first thing you did was burst into tears and nod, holding up the stick. You could hear the gasp that came out of your friend’s mouth, hand flying to cover her mouth and eyes practically bulging out of her head.
“Okay, wait, are these excited tears or not? Like are you and I clothes shopping or are we going to the clinic?” Samira asked frantically, and her supportive attitude made another round of tears come pouring out of you.
“Excited? I think?” You choked out, wiping your eyes.
“What did Robby say?”
“I just took the test five minutes ago, Mira, he doesn’t know yet. Nobody does.” You said, and her eyes somehow got even wider. “I just called you straight away.”
“Holy shit, I’m honored.” She looked like she was getting a little misty eyed herself, but she held it together. “Do you know how he’s going to react?”
“We never talked about kids.” You admitted, putting the sticks back in the socks and balling them up again. “I think happy? But I don’t know, what if he doesn’t want kids?”
“First off, have you seen him whenever you’re holding a baby? He always looks like he’s seconds away from jumping you then and there. But do you want kids?”
You paused. You knew the answer, but you knew you wanted to know what your husband would say too. Samira was still leaning on the vanity, hands on either side while she stared down the camera expectantly, like she knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it. “Yeah, I do. With him.”
“Okay so… excited tears?” She looked like she was seconds away from exploding, and you felt tears trickle down your cheeks again.
“Scared tears, but yeah, excited too.” You admitted, starting to smile.
“So… clothes shopping? Not a clinic?”
“Clothes shopping.” You agreed, and the shriek that left your friend was absolutely ear piercing.
You couldn’t help but laugh when she started jumping around, tears in her own eyes now and hands over her mouth. You were crying again- if you were already this emotional, you didn’t stand a chance in the second trimester-, and all you could think was how thankful you were for your best friend.
“What the fuck?? Is everything okay?” You heard a door open off camera, and Jack’s very confused voice filled the room. “Shit, you look great in that-”
“No, everything’s fine.” Samira reassured him, carefully dabbing away the tears under her eyes. You saw Jack come in frame now, hands cupping her face and concern etched in every line, until he caught a glimpse of the phone still propped on the vanity. He let go of her and looked at you now, frowning again when he saw your tear streaked face. “Hey, (Y/N), what’s going on? You okay?”
“Hey Jack.” You wiped your eyes again and nodded. “I’m okay, sorry for distracting Mira, I know you guys have a date planned.”
“Fuck that, why is she screaming and why are you bawling over there?”
Samira didn’t answer, looking at you from behind him and carefully mouthing ‘I can make something up’, which reminded you how much you loved her. “I just got some exciting news, these are happy tears, don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry my ass.” He shook his head. “Try hearing your girlfriend screaming bloody murder down the hall and then seeing your sister in law crying hysterically and then tell me not to be worried.”
Jack straightened back up, raising an eyebrow at you and then wrapping an arm around Samira’s waist naturally. “Now, why the happy tears?”
“Swear you won’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you.” You said seriously, and he nodded- you knew he would keep a secret until his dying breath if you asked unless you or someone else was in danger, and it was something you greatly appreciated about the man. “I’m pregnant.”
“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, surprise settling in on his expression while Samira started jumping up and down again. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”
“No fucking way!” Jack Abbot didn’t do big emotions, so to see the man who was essentially your brother in law break out into a wide grin and throw his free hand up in the air was a rare sight indeed. “I can’t believe Robby didn’t tell me, that bastard, keeping secrets from me-”
“She just found out like ten minutes ago, babe.” Samira said, and he looked even more stunned at that moment. “He’s not even home yet.”
“Oh shit, really?” He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “Well, at least you had the taste to tell us before that old man.”
“Jack!” Samira griped, whacking him on the arm.
“Just saying!” He caught her hand and smirked at her, before looking back at you with a real smile. “He’s going to lose his shit, that old bastard, he’s about to be even more insufferable than he already is.”
“We haven’t talked about kids,” you said worriedly, “what if he doesn’t want them?”
“I told her not to worry about it.” Samira said, and Jack nodded in agreement.
“Trust me, (Y/N), that’s not something for you to worry about.” Jack said calmly, reassuringly, like he was comforting a patient. “Robby is a lot of things, and I shit on him a lot for good reason, but he loves you. He loves you like I’ve never seen him love anyone before, and he loves Jake like his own. He’s going to love that kid of yours with everything in him, because that’s just the type of guy he is.”
You were once again crying silently, his words being exactly what you needed to hear in that moment. He and Samira were both watching you, her with a wide, proud smile on her face, and him with a smaller but just as sincere smile on his. “Thank you guys, I just- thank you, both of you.”
“Anytime, girl, we’re here for you.” Samira said sincerely, Jack nodding to her words. “Are you planning on telling him when he gets home?”
“I couldn’t keep this a secret if I tried.” You admitted with a watery laugh, “I’m going to throw up if I don’t tell him.”
“You’re going to throw up anyway, morning sickness is coming.” Jack said frankly, glaring at Samira when she hit him again.
“I’m well aware, it’s not like I’m a doctor too or anything, not like I literally work shifts with both of you.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “I’m going to go now. Thank you, both of you, seriously. This baby is going to have the best aunt and uncle ever.”
Samira looked like she was going to cry again, and even Jack blinked hard a few times, letting out a heavy sigh. “Sure thing, kid, anytime.”
“Have fun on your date! Mira, wear the red one.” You said, laughing when Jack turned to her with raised eyebrows right as you hit the ‘end call’ button.
Standing back, you held the balled up socks in your hand and thought for a second, putting them back in the back of your drawer and closing it. It was 8:15 now, and that meant Michael would be home in about 15 minutes give or take, so you decided to go to the kitchen and find something to make for dinner for both of you.
It was getting chilly in the house, so you grabbed one of his zip-up hoodies on the way, sliding your arms into the far too long sleeves and making your way into the kitchen. Rifling through the cabinets, you decided it was a good grilled cheese night, so you grabbed a loaf of bread and a few types of cheeses, setting them on the counter to get started.
You used your phone to play music through the kitchen, turning it up and humming along while you heated up the pan and cooked. You got so lost in the zone that you didn’t hear your husband come in the door and walk to the kitchen, so when you turned and spotted him, you let out a shriek and jumped back, thankful your hands were empty. He was still in his scrubs and hoodie, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms and an exhausted but lovestruck smile, the one that never failed to make butterflies erupt in your stomach.
“Jesus, Michael, you scared the shit out of me.” You pressed a hand to your heart and took a deep breath, shaking your head but smiling back at him. “What are you doing just standing there?”
“Can’t a man admire his wife?” He asked, standing up off the door frame and walking towards you.
“You see me every day, charmer.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he wrapped his around your waist and pulled you closer to him.
“And I mean it every day, sue me.” Michael said defiantly, before leaning down and pulling you into a slow, soft kiss, like he had all the time in the world.
You melted into him, letting his body curve over yours while you stood on your tiptoes, smiling happily when he broke the kiss and pressed one to your forehead before straightening back up while still holding you in his arms. “Dinner’s just about ready, I was a little late starting it.”
“You’re an angel.” He sighed, looking at the sandwiches toasting on the pan. “Grilled cheese?”
“It’s chilly outside.”
“I would have to agree, having just come in from there.” He nodded seriously, eyes flashing with playful energy. “Is that why you’re in my hoodie?”
“It’s softer than mine.” You shrugged, and he rolled his eyes. “Besides, wasn’t one of the vows ‘what’s mine is yours’? That includes hoodies, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You’re trouble.” He shook his head, and you just grinned back up at him, rising back to your tiptoes to plant a kiss on the scruff of his jaw.
“You still married me.” You said with a shrug, walking over to the pan and pulling the sandwiches off the stove.
“That I did.” Michael agreed, going to wash his hands in the sink and smiling over at you. “And I don’t regret a second of it.”
“That makes one of us.” You teased, and he flicked some of the water on his fingers towards you, laughing when you flinched and tried to protect yourself. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”
The two of you sat down at the kitchen table, side by side around the edge of it, shoulders bumping and knees pressed together while you sat and ate in comfortable conversation. Michael filled you in on how the ER had been that day since it was your day off, telling you all about how Langdon tripped over his shoes and almost hit his head trying to impress Mel by walking backwards in a full circle, how McKay caught Santos and Whitaker filming a Tiktok in the on call room while hiding from Myrna, and how one of the patients came in with a cactus in his ass and the story that he slipped and fell on it while fully naked getting out of the shower.
You were both laughing so hard you could barely speak at certain points, setting your sandwiches down so you didn’t choke. It was nights like these, times where the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company as husband and wife instead of doctor and doctor, that you cherished more than anything. When the two of you got married, you knew your schedules would be similar most of the time, but the times where you worked opposite shifts made the moments like these even more special.
When you had both finished eating, you stood up and took the dishes to the sink to wash them. Michael offered to help, but you shooed him off to the bathroom to take a shower (“I love you, babe, but you smell like shit.” “Well about that…”) while you washed the plates. You also just wanted a few more minutes to prepare yourself to drop an absolute bombshell on your very unsuspecting husband. You were younger than him, freshly an attending out of residency, so you at least knew you were within a normal, healthy range for women to get pregnant in, which helped soothe your nerves just a little.
Drying the last plate, you set the towel down on the counter and walked towards the living room, sitting cross legged on the couch with a blanket pulled over your lap. You pulled out your phone and checked your texts while you waited from Michael- a selfie from Samira showing you she did indeed go with the red dress, a clearly drunk text from Mel telling you more about her ‘unrequited’ crush on Langdon that she would definitely regret in the morning, and a string of texts from Shen complaining about a patient who came in and threw up on his shoes (to which you reminded him that you warned him not to wear new shoes to work, amatuer).
The sound of footsteps coming towards the living room made you look up from your phone, smiling when Michael came around the corner with a t-shirt and grey sweatpants on, hair still messy and damp from the shower. “Feel better?”
“Much.” He groaned, sitting down on the couch beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you against him easily. You moved willingly, turning your body so your head was resting against his side and your legs were extended to your other side. “How was your day?”
“Oh, you know.” You shrugged, acting like your entire world hadn’t been flipped upside down an hour ago. “The usual.”
Michael studied you curiously, the look in his eyes telling you he suspected there was something you weren’t telling him, but he didn’t press the matter at all. “Did you get the chance to check out that market you wanted to earlier?”
“Oh, yeah, actually,” you had forgotten all about the farmers market you went to that morning in your frazzled state, “you’re going to have to come with me next week, it was really neat there and I want to show you the cool stands there.”
“I’d love to.” He said with a soft smile, kissing the crown of your head and keeping his arm draped across you lazily.
You wanted to keep making easy, lazy conversation, but you were at the point of feeling like you might actually explode if you didn’t say anything to him. Jack and Samira’s reassurance kept coming back to you in your mind, and you really, really hoped they were right (even though, in your heart of hearts, you really suspected they would be). You sat up straighter, turning your body to face your husband with a nervous sigh. “I have something to tell you.”
He looked at you with a teasing glance, but when he saw how deadly serious you were, his face fell into something much more serious, sitting up straighter himself and frowning. “Is everything okay?”
“No. Well, yes. Well-” You huffed, running a hand over your face. Michael looked incredibly confused, like he was still trying to listen and pay attention, but he had no idea what to expect you to say. “I have something to show you.”
“Something to tell me or something to show me?” He asked cautiously, brow furrowing with more concern when you replied, “Both.”
“Stay here.” You said, slipping off the couch and walking quickly down the hallway towards your bedroom. You found the socks in the back of the drawer and came back down the hallway, entering the living room to find that Michael had shifted to be sitting with his elbows on his knees now, chin in his hands. He watched your every move as you walked back to the couch and sat beside him, clutching the socks like a lifeline.
“You wanted to show me… socks?” He sounded puzzled, and you shook your head. “Okay, sweetheart, I love you, but I’m incredibly confused right now.”
“Before I show you this, I love you so much, and I want to talk to you about this before we do anything, okay?” You said, voice trembling and hands shaking.
“Sweetheart,” Michael put his hands over yours to try and stop the shaking, panic slipping in the edges of his eyes, “you’re kind of scaring me here if I’m being honest.”
Your hands shook as you gently shifted his off of you, breathing shakily and starting to unwrap the socks. His eyes didn’t leave your face once, not paying attention to the socks at all, instead focusing solely on the way you had tears brimming in your eyes. He raised a hand to gently wipe them away before they could fall, pain lacing his face at the fact that he couldn’t help you until he knew what was going on.
When you had the first sock pulled off of the other, you took a deep breath, looking him in the eyes once more, before pulling the sticks out of the sock and setting them in the hand still sitting in your lap. Michael’s brow furrowed, looking down for just a split second, before his entire body froze up like you had dropped him in ice. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, barely breathed for several moments. The whole time he was silent, your hands shook harder, and the tears did begin to creep down your cheeks.
“Michael?” Your voice broke, and his gaze flew up to meet yours, immediately wiping your tears away.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry.” He shushed you gently, one hand cradling your cheek while the other clutched the sticks. “Are these…?”
“From today.” You confirmed, holding one up to show him the two dark blue lines. “All three of them turned almost instantly.”
“When was your last cycle?”
“A month ago.” You admitted, and you could see him do the math in his head, eyes widening when it clicked. “I think I’m eight weeks along, if I did the math right.”
“That’s my guess.” He agreed, setting the tests on the coffee table beside you to free up his other hand to take yours.
“How do you feel?” You asked, hesitance lacing every word. “About this?”
“Tell me how you feel first, sweetheart.” He said with carefully concealed emotion, forcing back the tremor in his own voice. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to keep it.” You admitted, not meeting his eyes when you said those words. “But if you don’t, I get it, I-”
“(Y/N).” He whispered, turning your face back to look at him. Your eyes met his, and you could see the way tears beaded at the edge of his waterline. “(Y/N), sweetheart, you want the baby?”
“Yeah, Michael.” You said, nodding. “I do.”
He broke at that, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his face to your hair, breathily shakily and kissing your head, your neck, your cheek, wherever he could reach. You clung to him, crying silently, fists balled in the front of his shirt and tears staining where your face buried against his chest.
“You’re okay with this?” You asked, and he pulled away from you to look you in the eyes. He was beaming, joy in every line of his face, and you could have wept again at how happy he looked and how relieved you felt.
“If you hadn’t wanted it, I would have supported you, because that’s your choice.” He said, “But God, I’m so fucking excited to be a dad with you.”
He slid to the floor in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead on your stomach, body shaking with quiet sobs. You closed your eyes and tilted your head towards the ceiling, saying a silent prayer of thanks to whatever being was listening for the incredible man in front of you. You scratched his scalp gently with your fingers, one hand combing through his hair while the other rested on his shoulder.
“We’re going to be parents, Michael.” You whispered, the anxiety of how he would react melting away from your being and allowing for more joy to seep in. “We’re going to have a kid.”
“Holy shit.” He kissed your stomach gently even though there was no real bump yet, and the action made you feel weak inside. “Parents.”
He lifted himself back up on his knees so he was looking at you again, and this time it was your turn to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He caught your hand and kissed your palm, lacing his fingers with yours and sighing. “I love you so, so fucking much.”
“I love you.” You whispered, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “You’re going to be such a great dad, Michael.”
He bowed his head and clasped your hand between both of his, resting his forehead on it. You heard him murmuring quietly and recognized the Shehecheyanu blessing, the Jewish prayer of thanksgiving for good news, and you closed your eyes along with him. When you opened them, Michael was looking at you reverently, like you were the altar he was praying at and the goddess he was praying to.
“Just so you know, Jack and Samira know.” You admitted, laughing when he rolled his eyes at you, “I called Samira in a panic and Jack heard her screaming, so he came to check and learned the news too.”
“Go figure.” Michael said, shaking his head, but there was no real hurt or anger anywhere on his face. “At least I don’t have to try and keep it from him.”
“You do suck at keeping secrets.” You agreed, and he shot you a playful glare at that. “What? It’s true and you know it! The whole team is going to find out the minute you set foot back in the pitt at this rate.”
“Well, our next shift together is tomorrow, so…”
“Let’s get to the second trimester first. Then we’ll talk.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sure enough, the day you hit the second trimester, Michael and you decided it was time to tell the team, especially since you were starting to show slightly. Samira was over the moon that she didn’t have to keep a secret anymore- Jack didn’t care, he really could have kept that secret for another hundred years and not broken a sweat.
You didn’t announce it in any big, dramatic way, not wanting to gather the entire team up to make some huge announcement. Instead, you casually mentioned that your morning sickness was getting worse to Mel, who dropped the chart she was holding clean on the floor and nearly knocked you over with the force of her hug. At the same time, Michael asked McKay where she had gotten a crib from when her son was a baby, and her shout of “SHUT THE FUCK UP” was loud enough you figured the floors above heard it too.
Within minutes the entire team knew, congratulating both of you with hugs, high fives, and tears all around. Dana was particularly emotional, insisting that allergy season was just really rough on her, but the way she hugged both of you said otherwise. By the time the shift was over, every single person on the pitt team who was working that day had suggested names, told you they had stuff to give you, or cried at least once. It was a little overwhelming, but in the absolute best way.
And when the two of you got home, showered, and crawled into bed, you couldn’t fight the smile that spread when Michael curled around you, pulled your back against his chest, and put his hand on your stomach gently like he was already protecting not just you, but both of you.