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Lucy vividly remembers the excitement, accompanied by a little shock, when she woke up one morning, looked down at her belly and first noticed the itty bitty bump.
She remembers the feeling of her fingers slowly trailing down the expanse of her own body before stopping at the swell and pushing down ever so lightly. The skin on her stomach was drawn just a little bit tighter and her muscles noticeably firmer.
Honestly calling it a bump was . . . generous. It was really only evident because she was lying down. Certainly not obvious to anyone other than her or Tim. Most people probably would think the minor change wasn’t a big deal, but to her it was everything. It was a constant, tangible reminder that she and Tim created a life. A child. Their child.
More than the feeling of the new firmness under her fingers, what Lucy remembers most was the intense feeling of wonder that overtook her as she stared down at the evidence of their baby that was abiding within her. Wonder at how their whole world was able to fit into a space so small that it fit in the palms of her hands. Wonder at how she could feel so much love for something she could barely even see.
That wonder never really went away.
Every time her hand subconsciously drifted there. Every time she would look at her body in the mirror. Every time she felt the dull ache that served as a reminder that her body was adjusting to the new presence. Every time Tim would drop to his knees in front of her and hold it like it was the most important thing in the universe.
Because it was.
To them there was nothing more meaningful than the tiny life that was slowly making its existence known beyond the two of them.
Over the next week, her bump continued to grow little by little. Both Tim and Lucy made a point to acknowledge the progress every morning and every night, taking time to sit in the joy that came with watching the reality of their child become more apparent each day. The reality that in roughly 26 weeks the life that they created would be joining their little family.
Needless to say, she loves her bump. She loves to show it off. She loves to rest her hands there. She loves every time Tim kisses it lovingly and speaks to it in the soft, quiet voice that used to be reserved only for her. She loves everything about it.
Until today.
Well. . . that’s not entirely true. She still loves her bump, but for the first time, she finds herself more than a little frustrated by its presence.
Lucy knew the day would come when her clothes would no longer fit the way they used to. She just didn’t expect it would be this soon. It feels like she just noticed her bump for the first time. She is 14 weeks in, so realistically, it shouldn’t be a surprise, especially considering she had spent several weeks impatiently waiting for it to appear in the first place.
But here she is, standing in the women’s locker room, unbuttoning her pants for just a moment of reprieve. The familiar polyester somehow even more uncomfortable than usual as it digs into her skin, leaving harsh red indents.
This morning the added pressure of the material wasn’t much more than a mild annoyance. Sure, it took a little more effort than usual to pull the clasp together, but she was able to forget about it as she made her way to roll call. At least she was for about an hour, until her uniform went from feeling a little extra snug to borderline suffocating.
Naturally, her first call of the day involved chasing after a suspect for half a mile, only for them to trip over their own two feet anyway. Then she was called to a scene to search through the woods for a missing child who ended up just being in a neighbor’s apartment. She was hot and dirty and honestly starting to worry that the godforsaken pants were going to cut off the blood flow to the lower half of her body.
When lunchtime finally rolled around, Celina drove them back to the station with no questions asked, clearly sensing Lucy’s discomfort. While returning to the station wasn’t unusual for them, Celina had become somewhat of an expert in the last couple of weeks at reading Lucy’s moods and sensing when she is reaching her limit. But today, the shift in Lucy’s demeanor would be nearly impossible for anyone to miss.
Lucy let out a sigh of relief as they finally rolled into the station. She barely waited for the car to be in park before flinging her door open and making her way to the break room, quickly grabbing her lunch from the fridge and heading to Tim’s office without sparing a second glance for anyone.
She opened the door and shuffled over to the new, much more comfortable seat across from Tim’s desk while making no effort to hide the frustration written all over her face. She knew that she needed a moment to herself when Tim looked up at her with that smile, and she felt nothing beyond the irritation that had been plaguing her for hours.
“I’ll be right back,” she muttered, setting her lunch down before walking away without giving him a chance to respond.
She beelined to the women’s locker room, sat down on the bench, took off both her duty belt and normal belt, and immediately unbuttoned her uniform pants with no regard for whether or not anyone was in there to witness her momentary loss of composure.
Lucy finds herself there now, gently massaging the sore skin of her abdomen while taking some deep breaths before she has to face anyone again. The cool locker against her back helps to soothe some of the heat radiating from her body, offering a brief moment of relief.
For the first time in hours, she slowly starts to feel some of her discomfort ease. She glances down to where her hand is now lying just below her belly button. She sees the angry red marks, but she also sees the familiar swell that means her baby is still with her. Still growing.
“I just got over the morning sickness and now you decide my clothes don’t fit anymore,” she says quietly. “You think you can maybe give your mom just a little break?”
She can’t help but feel a little guilty for even asking in the first place. As she continues rubbing small circles over her belly, she is no longer sure whether she is attempting to soothe the baby or herself.
Another minute passes before she takes one more grounding breath and sucks in her stomach to re-fasten her pants. As the band squeezes her once again, she reminds herself that the discomfort means that her baby is still safe and growing.
She revels in one last silent moment with just the two of them before finally exiting the locker room and stepping back into the rest of her shift. This time, when she walks back into Tim’s office, she feels much more settled.
She notices his eyes flick to her stomach before glancing back up and giving her a skeptical look, but she only offers him a reassuring smile. Though she can tell he isn’t convinced she is completely okay, she is grateful he decides not to press it right now.
They begin the familiar routine of catching up on their days so far as they eat their lunch in the comfortable bubble they have built for themselves. Even though the stupid waistband is still digging into her skin, the frustration that had consumed her earlier has faded into the background.
The first thing Lucy did when they walked through their door after work was go to their bedroom, strip out of her clothes and put on the loosest, softest pair of pajamas she owned. The relief was immediate, the pressure around her waist finally disappearing as she let out a noise that sounded dangerously close to a moan.
She walked back out into the living room, settling into the couch, already feeling substantially more human than she had all day. Kojo wasted no time crowding into her space, demanding her attention. She indulged him for a couple of minutes, mindlessly scratching behind his ears as he laid his head on her stomach, something that had become commonplace over the last couple of months. Reluctantly, she pushed herself up from her spot to help Tim get started with dinner.
“Go ahead and sit back down, you clearly already clocked out for the evening,” he said, eyeing her pajamas with an amused grin.
She rolled her eyes, but she certainly was not going to fight him on it. Within seconds she plopped back into the cushions making herself comfortable, picking up the remote to put something mindless on the TV.
The rest of their evening proceeded as normal. They ate dinner, took Kojo for a walk, with Lucy unashamedly remaining in her pajamas, and eventually settled in bed for the night.
Now, she lies beside him casually scrolling through ClipTalk, her feet occupying their usual spot tucked under his legs. Tim is reading some book about military stuff, his fingers mindlessly drawing shapes on her little bump. They wound down the way they did most nights, aside from the ones when they were definitely not winding down.
“Hey, Luce?” Tim asks, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Mhmm?” She mumbles drowsily.
“What was up earlier today when you came in for lunch? You seemed upset.”
Lucy braces herself, already knowing he has no intention of letting her brush it off.
“I wasn’t upset. Just a little uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” he asks, setting his book down to turn his body fully toward her.
She lowers her phone and turns on her side to face him. “Yeah. My uniform pants were feeling really tight today and they were digging into my stomach a bit. It really wasn’t a big deal though.”
He gives her a look that makes it very clear he does not believe her.
“It kinda seemed like a big deal to you.”
“I promise. I was just a little overwhelmed.” She shifts beneath the blankets, suddenly feeling silly now that she is explaining it out loud. “But it is really okay. It’s just part of the process, I guess.”
“I know. Maybe we can order a pair of the maternity uniform pants-”
“NO.”
The word leaves her mouth so quickly that even she is caught off guard by it.
Tim blinks at her.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean I am not wearing them. Not yet. I’ll just get a size bigger for now.” She nods once, as if it settles the matter for both of them.
“And when those get too small?”
“Then I’ll get the next size.”
“Lucy . . .”
“No Tim, they are uglyyyy,” she groans.
He huffs out a laugh. “Who cares if they are ugly?”
“I do!”
“Well I don’t care if they are ugly. I care that they are comfortable.”
She absolutely knows where he is coming from, but she frankly has no interest in entertaining the idea, especially when he is looking at her like that. The tiny flicker of irritation already simmering beneath her skin grows just enough for her to dig her heels in even deeper.
“Tim, it’s fine. I will get them when it’s time. We just aren’t there yet.”
“When will we be there, then?”
“I don’t know, maybe halfway?”
“Lucy,” he says evenly. His tone makes it clear that his patience is beginning to wear thin.
“Tim,” she shoots back.
She knows she is being stubborn. She just isn’t ready to give up yet.
“Well if you are not going to listen to Tim, then as your watch commander, I am ordering you to wear the maternity uniform.”
He did not.
Lucy barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Don’t even go there.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you stayed station bound after lunch and snuck off to the bathroom every 30 minutes. This is clearly affecting you more than you are letting on.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
He looks entirely unimpressed by the attempt.
She huffs and turns to look up at the ceiling. The longer he waits her out, the more irritated she becomes. Mostly because they both know he is right.
“Lucy, what is going on? Why do you have such a problem with this?”
“Nothing. I just-” She takes a deep breath. “There was a moment today where I was feeling so, I don’t know, overwhelmed by everything and the pants were hurting and I just–” Her throat tightens at the admission. “I wanted the bump to be gone. Just so I could just feel okay again.”
Her eyes sting almost immediately.
She watches Tim’s expression, desperately trying to decipher something in it as guilt begins to curl in her stomach.
“I’m sorry,” she rushes out.
“Luce–”
“No, Tim, this is our baby.” Her voice wavers despite her best efforts. “We only just started being able to see them, and today I literally wished they weren’t there. What kind of mom does that?”
Something shifts in his expression.
And then, impossibly, the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
“Really, Tim?” she scoffs, angrily wiping away the single tear that managed to fall.
He lets out a quiet laugh and reaches for her hand.
She yanks it away and shoots him a withering glare before turning her entire body away in the opposite direction. She sighs dramatically into her pillow.
She isn’t really mad at him, but that stupid smile makes him, quite frankly, the most irritating person in the world.
“Lucy, look at me.”
“No.”
A moment passes before, without warning, he hooks an arm around her and rolls her on top of him. She immediately squirms in protest, but he only wraps his arms more securely around her waist, keeping her firmly in place.
“Let me go.”
“Not until you look at me.”
She stubbornly fixes her attention anywhere but his face, her jaw working beneath clenched teeth.
Eventually, she relents and drops her head onto his chest and lets out a groan that would suggest Tim is subjecting her to something far worse than eye contact.
“Lucy . . .”
“What?” she grumbles into his chest.
Instead of answering, Tim cups either side of her head and gently lifts her head until she has no choice but to meet his eyes.
He is still wearing that stupid smirk that pissed her off in the first place, but now she sees everything underneath it. The gentleness. The concern. The unwavering love that somehow remains even when she knows she is being impossible. He looks at her like there is nowhere else he would rather be.
“You are allowed to be upset that your pants don’t fit.”
“Tim–”
“No, let me finish,” he cuts her off. “You are allowed to be frustrated that your body is changing faster than you can adjust to it. You are allowed to hate that, in a couple months, you won’t be able to tie your own shoes. You are allowed to complain about how ugly the maternity uniforms are. You are allowed to want your body back for five minutes.”
She lets out a small breath, shaking her head.
“No, Lucy, I am serious,” he says firmly. “What you are doing for our child is extremely hard and I am so incredibly grateful for all of the things your body is already enduring so they can grow and eventually be here with us. There are going to be plenty more moments when you wish you had your old body back, and that is okay. You aren’t wishing our baby away, Lucy. You are wishing you weren’t hurting.”
She feels the lump forming in her throat and the familiar sting returns to her eyes as she sees the unguarded love written plainly across his face.
“You are not a bad mom. You complaining about the nausea or the exhaustion or the clothes that don’t fit anymore doesn’t change how much you love them. If anything, it's a reminder of just how much you are already sacrificing to bring them into this world.” His thumb lightly brushes over her cheek. “You don’t have to enjoy the physical discomfort to be a good mom, Luce.”
She loses the battle against her tears as he brushes a strand of hair away from her face. Suddenly, she becomes aware of her bump pressing into his body beneath her.
In all honesty, it is a little uncomfortable. Which, in all honesty, only proves his point.
“Thank you,” she whispers softly, finally letting the tension drain from her body as she melts into his hold.
“Anytime,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.
A comfortable silence falls between them again. She stays tucked against him, his hand moving lazily up and down her back.
“So what do you say about ordering the pants?”
Her face twists into a grimace.
“Maybe next week?”
He rolls his eyes, but the smile overtaking his face betrays any real annoyance.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I just need a little more time to cope with this.”
He shakes his head as he carefully shifts her off him and back onto the mattress next to him. Before she can respond, he begins working his way down the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asks through a giggle.
“Well, Mama needs her beauty sleep, and I have a couple of things to say to our little boot.”
All lingering feelings of irritation evaporate immediately.
Lucy watches as he lowers his head, his lips brushing over the taut skin of her belly as he whispers words to someone who still can’t even hear them. She can’t make out everything he says, but she doesn’t need to.
Warmth floods through her body, replacing the feelings of guilt and annoyance that had been there only moments before.
She knows there will be more discomfort. More exhaustion. More changes she isn’t yet prepared for. More moments when she wants nothing more than to feel like herself again. And, apparently, in the very near future, moments that include the humiliation ritual that is wearing maternity uniform pants.
But there will also be this.
Tim murmuring words of love to their baby against her stomach. Her hand finding its way into his hair. The tiny life growing beneath both of their hands.
And she knows, without question, that she will endure every uncomfortable, inconvenient, and occasionally humiliating moment over and over again if it means that, in the end, they will be able to hold their little boot in their arms.