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You both agreed to stop trying.
It had started full of hope and excitement—calendars, vitamins, whispered promises in the dark. But the months began to pass, and one test at a time slowly turned into four or five.
Maybe it was too early. Perhaps they were false negatives.
But nothing ever changed.
There was only one moment when your tears couldn’t be contained. You and Matt had been putting away a few little onesies...ones you bought too early, too hopefully. You told yourself it was just for now that you’d be getting them out again soon.
But as your fingers folded that soft cotton, the quiet truth pressed down hard: maybe that moment just wasn’t coming.
Matt didn’t say a word when he heard your sniffles and could taste the salt in the air from your tears. He just wrapped himself around you from behind, arms tight, forehead pressed to your shoulder—his way of apologizing when he didn’t know how to fix it.
You had that moment. And then you let it go.
Not the dream, but the pressure. The grief. The weight of disappointment. You kept taking your vitamins, more for your own health than anything else. You stopped counting days. Stopped checking apps. You started dancing in the kitchen again. Tickle fights on lazy Sundays. Laughing under the covers.
Not thinking about timing or tests.
Just loving each other in that quiet, peaceful way that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
Months passed like that.
And one night, you were curled up together on the couch—a rerun murmuring softly in the background. Your head rested in Matt’s lap, his fingers gently combing through your hair, the other hand drifting across the soft curve of your belly, his usual rhythm when he could tell you were close to nodding off.
Then—
Ba-bum.
He froze.
Ba-dum.
It wasn’t yours.
Ba-bum.
Not his.
Too fast. Too small.
He held his breath, hand stilling. Then, slowly, carefully, he laid his palm flat against your stomach. It was probably just in his head. A fluke. A fridge hum.
Until—
He swears it got faster.
As if it were reacting to his touch.
His voice came out hoarse.
“There’s a heartbeat.”
You stirred in his lap, blinking blearily. “Huh?”
“Honey, there’s a—” he swallowed hard. “I can hear it.”
You jolted upright. Your hands lifted defensively like you were about to defend against an intruder.
“Where do you hear it coming from?”
Matt barely stifled a laugh, but his voice was serious when he said,
“In your body, sweetheart.”
His hand returned to your belly.
“Right here.”
You squinted at him.
“Matty…you’re messing with me. It’s gotta be the microwave or the fridge again.”
He shook his head, brushing his thumb gently over your shirt.
“No. It’s in your body, baby,” he said softly. “I’m pretty confident about the jurisdiction.”
You turned toward him, searching for something—anything lighthearted in his tone. But there was no teasing there. Just that focused stillness. The kind he only wore in the courtroom…or when everything was about to change.
And then?
You launched off the couch.
“Where are you going?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“To get a damn test!” you called over your shoulder, feet pounding down the hallway. “Even though apparently you’re the test now!”
Matt groaned and buried his face in his hands, exhaling like it might help calm his racing heart.
(Spoilers: It did not.)
By the time you were digging through the bathroom drawer like a woman on a mission, Matt was pacing in the living room like a man possessed.
Hands on hips. Arms crossed. Hands in his hair.
“Do we even have a pediatrician?”
“Matthew—!”
“Okay, okay! I’m calm. Totally calm. Should we baby-proof the windows? What kind of car seat do we need? Should we get one of those fancy air filters for the nursery? Do we have a nursery?? Where are we even putting the— ”
The bathroom door creaked open.
You stood there, hand trembling as you clutched the test to your chest. The other wiped at your eyes, but he could still hear the catch in your breath—feel the shift in the room, soft and full of something he hadn’t dared hope for.
You didn’t even need to speak.
Matt’s whole world went still.
And then, he dropped to his knees.
Gently, so gently, he slid his hands around your waist. Pressed his cheek to your belly. Breathed like he was praying. Like this moment was sacred.
“Hi there, little heartbeat,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”
You cradled his head to you, the tears slipping freely now as laughter bubbled up too. Something inside you...something that had been waiting and waiting...finally exhaled.
And Matt?
He just stayed there, whispering to your belly like he was already in love with someone he hadn’t even met yet.
Because he is.
Because he’s Matt.
And this? This is the moment everything changes.