minnie 𝜗𝜚

GOING TO THE doctors and having them confirm the pregnancy was one less weight off of your shoulders. You no longer had to worry about whether or not you were actually pregnant, you no longer had to worry about whether or not the tests were faulty, and you no longer had to worry about being unhealthy. The doctor had cleared everything over, telling you you were in good shape and everything was progressing as it should. The first few months were easy, besides the morning sickness and constant mood swings.

But that was then, and now you were in your second trimester.

You now looked pregnant, and most definitely felt it. You swore you'd never had such an appetite before. You were waking up in the middle of the night, sweating from being so warm, and begging Alfie to go and buy you whatever you were craving.

And he did. Now without complaint. At first he was hesitant, asking you if you genuinely needed a microwaveable mac n cheese at two in the morning, but then he saw the tears blossoming in your eyes and he got up, kissed your forehead and then returned within thirty minutes with your requested meal in his hands.

Some days were really good, where the only downside was the back pain, and you would even feel the baby kick when it wanted. The first time that happened, you were on the toilet and you screamed. Alfie came rushing into the bathroom, pure panic written on his face. When you told him you felt the baby kick with watering eyes, he let out the deepest sigh of relief known to man and dropped to his knees before you, putting his hand where you gestured to.

the bad days ༊*·˚

However, with good days, came bad days, and they really seemed to be getting the best of you. Sometimes, you'd just lie in bed for hours on end, only getting up to go to the toilet.

Other times, you'd break down in his arms first thing in the morning, stressing over every little possibility that could happen.

"What if this was a mistake?" You croaked into the darkness of your shared bedroom one night.

You were on one side of the bed, Alfie on the other, giving you the space you needed and wanted. You heard the bedsheets shuffling as he rolled over, barely making out your features through the thin slip of moonlight peaking through the curtains.

"Do you regret keeping it?" He asked.

"... I don't know." You sniffled, feeling like a horrible person for even contemplating the possibility of if you hadn't agreed to keep it.

"C'mere." He sighed, opening his arms.

You shuffled into them, burying your face into his chest and letting your tears roll down your screwed up face and soak into his skin.

He held you every time without hesitation, cradling you to his chest and not saying anything. Just letting you get it out of your system. He knew these weren't mood swings anymore.

Those passed along with the first trimester. These were your genuine emotions shining through and breaking you down.

You would cover your head and face with your arms, as if you were trying to block out the rest of the world and hide within yourself, but he pulled you out each time.

"I don't wanna die!" You'd wail loudly, and he'd double his strength around you while being wary of the baby.

"You won't, angel. You'll be okay. I promise you. It'll all be okay." Alfie would reassure you.

Every. Single. Time.

"I feel ugly."

"You're beautiful."

"I've put on so much weight."

"You're bringing life into this world. I don't care. You're carrying our baby. Your body is doing mental things right now."

"What if something bad happens?"

"Then we'll deal with it, if it happens."

"Please don't leave me."

"Reader, I will never, ever leave you. Not right now, not when our baby's born, not when our baby's a snotty little toddler that cries every night because they can't have cuddles. I will be here every step of the way."

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Alfie had put off a lot of things for you. But he didn't blame you for them, not one bit. He'd been invited to two brand trips with YoungLA, and had turned them both down. He was fully willing to go, but when he saw your crushed expression when he'd told you, he knew he couldn't leave you at home on your own.

He'd also had a lot of phone calls with his mum, mainly asking what the fuck he's supposed to do in certain situations and how to deal with this, that and the other. On the days when your back was killing and you couldn't be bothered to cook, you two would go and have dinner with his mum.

She was incredibly supportive, always greeting you with a great big smile and a hug. She knew what it was like, after all.

"You ever need a day away from him, you let me know." She would say at dinner, patting your knee.

Alfie didn't vlog much during your pregnancy, too afraid that he would start on a good day which would traipse into a bad day. He didn't want to subject you to any unwanted media attention while you were so vulnerable, so if he did vlog, it was only the parts where he was out on his own (not very much) or where you were actually playing an active roll in the clip and not being some sort of ghost figure in the background, walking around the grotto in one of his shirts.

The good days were the best days. You would prance around the kitchen, blasting music on the Alexa, looking simultaneously cute and sexy in just his shirt and some plain knickers. He would have some tv show that you were rewatching on in the background while you baked whatever you felt like doing.

the gender reveal ༊*·˚

You even baked your own gender reveal cupcakes, but had his mum fill them with the colour icing corresponding to the gender of the baby. The gender reveal was quiet and small, including a handful of your friends from college, a handful of his friends from sixth form, and family members you felt particularly comforted by and close to.

You'd always wanted a big, extravagant gender reveal party, but considering the emotional state you'd been in so far, you didn't want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of a group of people.

Thankfully the day went smoothly, and you burst into tears at the sight of pink sprinkles on the middle of the vanilla cupcake.

He hugged you tightly, lifting you into his arms as you latched your legs around his waist.

night time ༊*·˚

Going to bed had become increasingly more difficult. You would weak up in hot sweats in the middle of the night, your body overheating and overworking to maintain the healthiness of your baby.

Alfie would try to cuddle you in an attempt to provide comfort and a sense of homeliness, but you would always end up pushing him off, hating the feeling of being touched in your warm state. But sometimes all you needed was his embrace.

There were times when you would lay on his chest, letting him doodle with his finger along the expanse of your back, having you guess whatever he was drawing. Other times you would lie on your back, trying to relieve your spine of any pressure, and he would rest a hand on your bump, gently caressing it.

He kept the windows open, bought a fan and even changed the bedsheets into thinner ones for you.

If you needed anything in the middle of the night, he wouldn't hesitate to grab it for you. Whether it was food, a drink or if the fan needed the settings increased. He did it all.

preparing for the baby ༊*·˚

He'd bought all the furniture needed. A crib, a changing station, a new wardrobe and chest of draws, and even a plush rocking chair for you to sit in in the case of late-night feeds. He turned that day into a vlog as you'd walked into the living room with a pep in your step and declared that nothing would ruin your mood.

You'd sat with him whilst he built it all, complaining to the camera about how complicated this all was for no reason. You laughed at him, handing him certain nuts and bolts when he asked for them or the parts of the furniture.

The clothes were all down to you. He took you out, card at the ready while you went through the aisles of the store, getting borderline emotional at the thought of your baby girl in all these dainty little clothes.

"Get her a nike tech. Have her rocking up to the function like one of the mandem." Alfie suggested jokingly, camera on you

as your eyes scanned the articles.

You glared at him over your shoulder, "No, Alfie. She's gonna be a dainty little princess, not 'one of the mandem'."'

"Ey, you never know, girl. She might grow up and think 'fuck the pink, I wanna rock black and grey’!"

"Then she can do that when she's old enough, but for now—“

Oh my God, look at these little shoes!" You exclaimed, picking them up.

Alfie gave a deadpanned look to the camera before switching it back to you, filming your awed expression as you held the shoes up, showing the viewers.

The toys you started buying after the baby shower, not wanting to buy doubles of anything. You refused to buy anything that she might accidentally swallow or consume. He once held up a dainty kitchen set with miniature wooden food.

You snatched it off of him and put it back.

"It's literally got a choking hazard sticker on it." You shook your head, tutting.

"I'll show you a choking hazard in a minute, girl." Alfie smirked, grabbing your waist.

You slapped his stomach lightly, "Don't be dirty in public."

He moved his streaming set up to the dining room so the office could be the nursery. He let you decorate the room however you wanted, standing around in case you needed help. You adjusted everything so it was perfect, laying a heart shaped rug in the middle of the room and tucked the drawer and changing table under the slanted roof. The crib went where Alfie's desk was previously, slotting in perfectly.

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