TBH? Instead of telling people who have infertility trauma (and are taking it out on others) to “just adopt”, we should be telling them to get therapy. Having a baby in your custody does not magically fix trauma and it can often worsen it. Going from struggling with infertility for years and having multiple failed rounds of IVF directly to fostering and/or adopting another person’s child is actually not an ideal situation for anyone involved. That very specific breed of anti-abortion weirdo who is like “I cannot carry a pregnancy to term so you should not be able to abort your unwanted pregnancy.”??? Never ever suggest they adopt an already born child out of the system, they don’t want a child, they want a working uterus and to punish people with a working uterus who aren’t using their own. We handle people struggling with infertility with kid gloves and I agree they deserve grace but so many people struggling with infertility have deeply unhealthy beliefs and views about parenthood and themselves and we need to acknowledge having a baby will not fix that and they need to worry about that more than they’re worrying about finding a vulnerable pregnant woman to give them her baby.
I cannot say I know what it is like to struggle with infertility and desperately want to carry a child that is my own flesh and blood. I do know what it is like to have my body be unable to do things I want it to do that everyone else’s body seems to be capable of doing and that is a deep trauma that lives within me. There is no quick fix to that.
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A new study found that 14 of 20 women had successful uterus transplants, and all 14 went on to have at least one baby.
"The first modern attempt at transferring a uterus from one human to another occurred at the turn of the millennium. But surgeons had to remove the organ, which had become necrotic, 99 days later. The first successful transplant was performed in 2011 — but even then, the recipient wasn’t immediately able to get pregnant and deliver a baby. It took three more years for the first person in the world with a transplanted uterus to give birth.
More than 70 such babies have been born globally in the decade since. “It’s a complete new world,” said Giuliano Testa, chief of abdominal transplant at Baylor University Medical Center.
Almost a third of those babies — 22 and counting — have been born in Dallas at Baylor. On Thursday, Testa and his team published a major cohort study in JAMA analyzing the results from the program’s first 20 patients. All women were of reproductive age and had no uterus (most having been born without one), but had at least one functioning ovary. Most of the uteri came from living donors, but two came from deceased donors.
Fourteen women had successful transplants, all of whom were able to have at least one baby.
“That success rate is extraordinary, and I want that to get out there,” said Liza Johannesson, the medical director of uterus transplants at Baylor, who works with Testa and co-authored the study. “We want this to be an option for all women out there that need it.”
Six patients had transplant failures, all within two weeks of the procedure. Part of the problem may have been a learning curve: The study initially included only 10 patients, and five of the six with failed transplants were in that first group. These were “technical” failures, Testa said, involving aspects of the surgery such as how surgeons connected the organ’s blood vessels, what material was used for sutures, and selecting a uterus that would work well in a transplant.
The team saw only one transplant fail in the second group of 10 people, the researchers said. All 20 transplants took place between September 2016 and August 2019.
Only one other cohort study has previously been published on uterus transplants, in 2022. A Swedish team, which included Johannesson before she moved to Baylor, performed seven successful transplants out of nine attempts. Six women, including the first transplant recipient to ever deliver a baby back in 2014, gave birth.
“It’s hard to extract data from that, because they were the first ones that did it,” Johannesson said. “This is the first time we can actually see the safety and efficacy of this procedure properly.”
So far, the signs are good: High success rates for transplants and live births, safe and healthy children so far, and early signs that immunosuppressants — typically given to transplant recipients so their bodies don’t reject the new organ — may not cause long-term harm, the researchers said. (The uterine transplants are removed after recipients no longer need them to deliver children.) And the Baylor team has figured out how to identify the right uterus for transfer: It should be from a donor who has had a baby before, is premenopausal, and, of course, who matches the blood type of the recipient, Testa said...
“They’ve really embraced the idea of practicing improvement as you go along, to understand how to make this safer or more effective. And that’s reflected in the results,” said Jessica Walter, an assistant professor of reproductive endocrinology and infertility at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, who co-authored an editorial on the research in JAMA...
Walter was a skeptic herself when she first learned about uterine transplants. The procedure seemed invasive and complicated. But she did her fellowship training at Penn Medicine, home to one of just four programs in the U.S. doing uterine transplants.
“The firsts — the first time the patient received a transplant, the first time she got her period after the transplant, the positive pregnancy test,” Walter said. “Immersing myself in the science, the patients, the practitioners, and researchers — it really changed my opinion that this is science, and this is an innovation like anything else.” ...
Many transgender women are hopeful that uterine transplants might someday be available for them, but it’s likely a far-off possibility. Scientists need to rewind and do animal studies on how a uterus might fare in a different “hormonal milieu” before doing any clinical trials of the procedure with trans people, Wagner said.
Among cisgender women, more long-term research is still needed on the donors, recipients, and the children they have, experts said.
“We want other centers to start up,” Johannesson said. “Our main goal is to publish all of our data, as much as we can.”"
Part 2 to More than a Jane Doe, thank you to whoever requested I continue this! I also had a request here to write about endometriosis so I included it in this fic.
Summary: Baby Jane Doe now lives with you and Jack as her foster parents. You wondered if you should finally find out if your symptoms matched up to endometriosis, because you were getting broody.
Word count: 3k?
Trigger warning: mention of infertility, mention of surgery, mature content
“Something smells nice” Jack said as he walked out of the shower, towel wrapped around his hips and you quickly shushed him, pressing a finger to your lips.
“How long has she been asleep for?” He whispered as he wrapped his hands around you from behind.
“Not long” you whispered back, feeling yourself sink into his warm touch “what’s on your mind?”
He turned you in his arms and kissed you deeply, one hand reaching over to turn off the stove. “So many things” he murmured against your lips “but it all depends if you let me…”
You hummed back as you kissed him “I do trust you… so anything you want?”
He leaned closer “you sure about that?”
You quickly nodded — too turned on to speak in full sentences.
Jack lifted you onto the kitchen counter in one smooth motion and gently pushed you back until you were lying down. You had put on just a t-shirt specifically for him. His mouth was hot and relentless, and you wondered how long he had waited for this. A sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue dragged slowly over you, teasing, tasting. One of his hands pressed firmly against your stomach, holding you down as your hips tried to arch. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered, nipping at your inner thigh before diving back in. He knew your body perfectly. He noticed every little detail — especially the way your fingers loosened in his hair right after you came.
“Shall I make breakfast for you while you recover?” He teased as he pulled you back up towards him.
You moved off the counter and unwrapped his towel and said “Not yet, sofa?”
He didn’t hesitate to pull you towards him and started kissing your neck, but the crying of Peach quickly made him stop. You let out a small, ironic laugh and put your head against his chest. “I’ll get her, baby” you kissed him and rushed over to the bedroom.
Being newly coupled with a baby wasn’t easy. You were both desperate to keep your sex life alive, but you had to stay quiet. No matter how badly he sometimes made you want to scream.
“Good morning sunshine” you said in your baby voice that you think you had now perfected “did you sleep well? Yeah? You only woke me up like three times which was so nice of you” you giggled as you picked her up “so thank you baby”.
You grabbed the nappy bag and walked back to the kitchen with her, whispering jokingly in her ear “Jacky’s boobies are out if you’re missing mine”. He quickly took her off you and put her onto his chest. It was a dangerously beautiful sight — him standing there shirtless in the kitchen, holding a baby like he’d been made for it. You tried your best not to let your mind wander, but you truly wished this could be your life, for a little while longer.
—
Today was not a good day for you. But as for Peach? She was an absolute angel.
She’d been living with you for a weeks now — weeks of not working but being her full-time foster mom. Weeks of nappy changes, bottle feeds, late-night cries. But weeks of loving her so incredibly much. You didn’t want to let her go so you asked if you could become her foster mom until she found her new adoptive family.
You wanted more time with her, just a bit more time.
You wrapped yourself up in the heated blanket and pushed yourself deeper into the sofa as she slept in her cot. As you felt yourself doze off, the front door opened.
“Hey sweetheart”
You gave him a weak thumbs-up from under the blanket. He let out a soft laugh and said “rough night with little one?”
“No….” you whispered, the word barely making it out. Talking hurt. Everything hurt.
He quickly walked over “what happened? You don’t look well” He put his hand on your forehead, “you’re burning up”
“It’s the heated blanket warming me up, but I feel a hot flush coming on — oh my God”, you quickly flicked it off and felt yourself start to sweat. The sharp, twisting pain in your pelvis made you curl back into a tight foetal position.“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it”
He sat on the floor facing you and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face “period cramps?”
You nodded, eyes squeezed shut “A bad one too”
He leaned in and kissed your forehead then your nose “do you know what else helps with cramps?”
“How are you always turned on?” You let out a tired, playful groan.
“For you… always. It doesn’t help when you send me pictures of you whilst I’m stuck at work”
“Jack it's pictures of me and the baby, and i’m always fully dressed”
“But you have your tank top on and I…” He murmured agains you lips “… see the outline of everything. And then I think of all the things I can do and I have to wait hours before I get home to satisfy you” he kissed again.
“I could be wearing a potato sack and you’d get turned on”
“Baby, I’d be figuring out a million ways to rip it off you” he said, stealing another kiss. He then noticed you weren’t yourself and not in a playful mood “ How bad? Have you taken anything?”
“Bad enough that I’ve been sick three times — including the pain relief”
“Why didn’t you call me sweetheart?”
“You were at work Jack, I couldn’t exactly call you and cry”
“Well of course you can. That’s what I’m here for” he rested his head on the sofa next to you “shall I go get more meds?”
“No, it’s not gonna touch it so what’s the point” you let a few tears run “I think I’ll sleep it off”
“Okay, only if you’re sure. Let’s get you to bed”
He helped you up, but the moment you were vertical, a wave of pain shot down your legs. You wobbled and Jack’s grip tightened around your waist. “You sure it’s just period pains?”
“Positive” you lied.
He helped you to bed and the shivers started again — your body was not making up its mind. Peach was now fussing so he gently grabbed her out of her cot and put her onto his chest.
“You both can stay here; I can do with the cuddle”
You watched him, memorising every detail. She sank right onto his chest and fit perfectly into his arms. It was most likely the hormones, but you didn’t try to hold in your cries. You felt a build of emotions, and it all came crashing down.
“Hey…hey what’s wrong?” He said softly “what’s upsetting you?”
“I’m just emotional and everything hurts. These stupid cramps don’t seem to be going away anytime soon, and I’ve been battling it for days now and —“
“Wh—hat days? You’ve been in this much pain for days? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t feel like complaining, and I’m used to the pain; I work through it all the time”
“Are you sure it’s just period pains, sweetheart?”
You pushed yourself up against the headboard and gently took Peach from his arms, cradling her against your chest. Her warmth and soft baby scent gave you the courage you needed. “No… Jack I haven’t told you everything. But it’s not confirmed, and I didn’t go through with the testing. I think I have endometriosis, and it sucks”
“Baby, that’s not just period pains. Whoever made you believe that is an idiot. Why haven’t you gone for the testing?”
You shrugged “Fear of the unknown, fear of not getting a diagnosis. The surgery…recovery time isn’t easy… and also risk of damage to my organs.”
“And now that we have Peach it got you thinking…” he said quietly
“Exactly” your voice cracked “Jack what if I go in there and they say nothing’s wrong? That it’s all in my head?”
“Then we’ll find another doctor who will find the right diagnosis”
“And what if they don’t find anything wrong?”
“Do you think something is wrong?”
“Some days I think it is just period pains. But then I vomit… and I used to pass out from the pain, but I’ve learned to live through it. The pain isn’t in one location; sometimes it spreads. And it’s not just when I’m on my period…sometimes it’s all the time.”
“And that’s all the proof we need” he shifted closer and wrapped one arm around you, giving you a kiss on your temple “we’ll find the right answers okay? No matter how much it takes”
“What if I can’t have kids?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But for now, let’s get you a diagnosis. And some pain meds. I’ll go get you some”
“They don’t work” you said defeatedly.
“Are you taking the strong ones?”
You shook your head.
Jack gave you a knowing look “Is it because you don’t want people thinking you’re taking heavy painkillers for ‘just period pains’?” He attempted air quotes, making you laugh despite everything.
“That was adorable Jack, but that’s not how you do air quotes”
He chuckled and shook his head as he left the room.
You turned your attention back to Peach, gently stroking her head while humming a lullaby. Your voice was softer now — you’d gotten much better at this. She gave you a tiny, sleepy smile that melted your heart. And so you cried some more.
“Right, back with….” He had a hand full of things “iced cold water, the best pain meds on the house, some chocolate because it’s 8.30am and why not. Oh, and a hot water bottle”
“Well aren’t I the luckiest girl in the universe” you smiled as you gave him a kiss.
“Now can I please have her?”
“No, she’s mine” you teased, holding her a little closer.
“You get all day with her that’s not fair! Right my turn”
“Aren’t you tired… don’t you need sleep?”
“Shhhh don’t listen to her “ he said as he grabbed her “she’s just grumpy because she’s jealous”
“Hey I’m not jealous!!” You moved too quickly and a sharp, electric pain shot through your pelvis.
He frowned, expression full of concern “When are we scheduling the laparoscopy then?”
“When we don’t have a baby on our hands, Jack”
“I can take care of you both”
“I know you can, but it wouldn’t be ideal. I’d be off my feet for weeks. Social services probably wouldn’t love that.”
He hesitated but asked quietly “Any news on adoption?”
Your heart sank at the question and you quietly said "no"
The truth was, you didn’t want anyone else adopting Peach. You wanted her. The thought of being her mom felt both terrifying and right. But your relationship with Jack was still so new, and you’d jumped headfirst into this with a baby in your arms.
Maybe scheduling the surgery might give you more insight, especially while you had her. You thought of many maybes and didn’t notice yourself fall asleep.
—
It turned out that people looking to adopt babies could be incredibly picky. You were baffled that so many turned Peach down simply because so little was known about her background. No one had any real information about her family’s medical history, and as a doctor, that fact drove you insane.
But their loss worked in your favour because Peach stayed with you longer. Your bond with Jack grew stronger every single day, and somewhere along the way, you stopped caring about your job entirely. She was your main focus.
You both lived with Jack, and he supported you financially without hesitation. It still shocked you how the government expected foster parents to step up while offering almost no financial help. You couldn’t help but wonder how many children were living in awful conditions because of it.
“….and we’ll remove as much as we can” Jack gently put a hand on your knee. You’d completely zoned our at your gynaecology appointment.
“Sorry, could you say that again?”
“I said if we find endometriosis on certain organs, we will remove as much as we can. But if it is severe…we sometimes end up removing organs too.”
“Like a hysterectomy?”
He nodded.
You wished he had an ounce of sympathy saying that.
“What do you think of that, sweetheart?” Jack asked softly.
“Uh…” you pulled the baby closer onto your chest. “I don’t know how to think about it”
“The surgery is in a few days, but we would need you to make the decision soon. If we ….”
You saw his lips move but you really didn’t understand him. Your brain refused to acknowledge that a simple keyhole surgery could leave you with no organs. No uterus. No ovaries. Just empty.
The ride home was quiet and Jack held your hand the whole way home.
“Wanna tell me what’s going in in that beautiful mind of yours?”
“So many thoughts, but none of them make sense”
“Try me”
“Are you sure you want to do this? Be with someone who might never be able to carry your children. That you might adopt a baby you know nothing about, no family history, you don’t even know age or birthday or—“
“Hey hey sweetheart” he gripped your hand tighter “you’re spiralling. This isn’t you. What got you thinking that way?”
“I would want to adopt a baby, of course I would. I would adopt Peach in a heartbeat. I would quit my job and…” you tried to catch your breath as you voice cracked “… and I would just live with her. Take my organs, -— all of them, if it means I get to live a better life. I counted Jack, how many bad days I’ve had this month. I kept a log of all my symptoms. I am exhausted and done” you eventually sighed.
“So do it” he said, a big grin spreading across his face. He glanced at you, then quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned to face you fully.
You stared at him, jaw dropping wide open.
“Adopt peach and if you let me, I want to do that with you too. I would like a baby, of course I would! But I don’t care where the baby comes from!” He said excitedly.
“You’re crazy”
“Do you see yourself being a doctor, or a mom, or both?”
You were too scared to admit it but said it anyways “A mom, I think….”
“Okay then. Quit your job and be that”
“The foster agency doesn’t pay me enough —“
He titled his head playfully.
“Of course you’d pay for it”
“Attendings make a good wage, you know” he winked.
“I know! I live at your apartment. I’ve seen what type of cheese you pick at the fancy supermarket. But you’re talking about financially supporting a baby and me.”
“I still don’t see the problem. Also its our apartment, and she’s going to be my baby too” he smiled.
“Jack!” you laughed, then quickly glanced back at Peach, who was still fast asleep “You’re talking about having a baby with me.”
“Again… what’s the problem? How long have we been best friends for?”
“A long time but—“
“And we haven’t been dating for too long, but do you see yourself having a child with anyone else?”
“No one in the world” you smiled and wiped your tears. He reached over and gave you a long, deep kiss. “The surgery is in three days, Jack”
“Perfect, let’s call the agency now”
“You are crazy!” You shrieked.
“Baby brain” he tapped his temple and laughed “Also… ’m crazy in love”
You felt your heart skip many, many beats. You whispered as you leaned in “Do you know what would be crazy?”
“Getting married” he whispered back.
“That would be totally crazy”
“But not impossible….” He teased
“One day, Jack Abbot, one day” you smiled and wrapped your hands around him “but for now, surgery and we have a baby to raise, if they let us”
——
You couldn’t bring yourself to decide what you wanted the surgeon to do, so you left the final call in the hands of the person you trusted most — Jack. You kissed him softly, then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Peach’s forehead. The adoption agency still hadn’t gotten back to you after you put the application through.
You closed your eyes and counted down just like they’d asked you.
You hoped they’d find something wrong, which was difficult to admit. But after years of pain…years of agony. Years of being told it’s the price women have to pay… You hoped they’d give you answers...
And if they didn’t? You accepted that you would keep living with this undiagnosed chronic illness, no matter what anyone said....
You thought of Peach and Jack as you fell to sleep....
—
You opened your eyes and blinked slowly, instantly feeling nauseous. You moved your hands down to your abdomen, which was wrapped in bandages. You weren’t in too much pain but you felt… different.
“Hey sweetheart, you’re awake”
You nodded, eyes finally adjusting. He gently raised the bed and gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “The surgeon should be here soon. I’m happy to have you back”
“Happy to be back” you gave him a weak smile. “Where’s peach?”
He pointed at the pram and she was fast asleep.
“There you are — how are you feeling?” The surgeon walked in… far too cheerful.
“Bad” you let out a small laugh “can you tell me if you found anything?”
He looked at Jack first, then back at you, and you hated that you did that.
“We found endometriosis, which had grown onto the ovaries and fallopian tubes. We uh…”
“How bad?”
“It was severe, very severe in fact and…”
He was terrible at giving bad news, you thought.
“So you’ve done a hysterectomy?”
He shook his head. “We removed the majority of it, but unfortunately, there is a risk it’s going to spread again. We…” he looked at Jack again “… decided to preserve your uterus and ovaries for now. There’s still a chance, unfortunately, it is a small one though ... that you could carry a child in the future. We can always schedule a hysterectomy later if the endometriosis returns or the pain becomes unmanageable again. This gives you time to think about it.”
You let out a small broken laugh “well… that’s unfortunate”
The surgeon continued talking about recovery timelines, medication, and follow-ups, but you stopped listening a while ago. All you wanted was to hold Peach. You wondered why a man with such little empathy had chosen a speciality dealing with women’s problems.
“I think we might be done here, doc” Jack cut in as he saw you stare in the distance. He nodded and left.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. They’d asked me when you were in surgery and I thought of the best option for you, and I panicked, and then I thought of her and —“
You squeezed his hand “Jack, you’re spiralling. You did the right thing. I might actually get to live without this constant pain… and I still have a chance if I want a baby. That’s more than I hoped for”
“You got your diagnosis” he smiled as he brushed his fingers through your hair.
“I got my diagnosis!” You repeated, breaking into a real smile this time “Do you think I could get away with ringing all the other doctors that told me nothing as wrong? And that I was being too emotional?”
“We can start with that tomorrow but for now… someone wants to see you”
Peach was slowly waking up so Jack gently lifted her from the pram. She was wearing an outfit you hadn’t seen before.
“Hi baby” you whispered, trying to lift your arms up as much as possible.
“Say hi to mama” he said.
“Who put this outfit on you?” You asked her as he handed it over to you. She wore yellow leggings with a white baby grow that read I go where mommy goes.
You looked up at Jack, who was already tearing up. He gave you a small, tearful nod that said everything.
“AI in IVF could be awesome, or it could be terrifying,” Catherine Mills, one of the researchers, tells me from her home office in Melbourne. “So the goal was to try to figure out where it lies between those two extremes.”
IVF is still an emotional, expensive gamble: nearly 3 in 4 cycles fail. In our latest piece, Phineas Rueckert explores how AI is changing the odds—and what could happen if the algorithm goes rogue.
People are still yapping about Francesca and her infertility plotline in the book and it actually baffles me why its so important to those people for Francesca to have a baby in the end when she could just never have a baby like a lot of women who have infertility issues irl but idk I think accepting the fact you will never have a biological child finding happiness despite that is an important story to portray in media then the more common "woman accepts she cant have children and thats the magical key that lets her finally conceive a child"
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something something i've read a few fics that have made me feel things and instead of working on my personal writing i've decided to give you this piece of word vomit that i wrote in one sitting. not edited. i only say fem!reader bc it's geared toward an afab reader. 1.4k words.
fili durin x fem!reader — a babe of his own
tw - infertility
You hadn't the heart to tell him the truth. He loved you, dearly, you knew he did, and yet the words stayed deep inside of you, threatening to spill with every passing minute.
Fili deserved a life of love. That you could give him. You could give him every bit of love, worship, care, whatever—you just couldn't give him that. You couldn't give him a baby.
The prince had mentioned it in passing. You had barely even registered it at first.
Perhaps you should have said something sooner, instead of winding up here, staring him down and at a loss of words.
Your bottom lip trembled as you watched him. "Fili, I—there's something I must tell you," you began, though quickly stopped as you tried to wipe your tears away.
Ever the caring lover, he stepped toward you, gently taking your hand in his. Your name left his lips, confusion sitting front and center.
"What's got you so upset, amrâlimê? What happened?"
Oh, damn him for his soft voice, his kind words, everything that made him Prince Fili Durin, son of Dís and sister-son of Thorin, King Under the Mountain. You would never be able to give him that. A lineage. A piece of himself passed on to another generation of Durin.
Fili's thumb reached forward and gently stroked your bottom lip. "Talk to me," he said, eyes searching yours. "What has you so upset, my darling?"
"Oh, you will hate me so, Fili," you blurted, unable to stop your tears.
"I could never," he retorted, hand against your face, thumb gently brushing your tears away. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You are the love of my life, are you not? What has you so...?" He trailed off, looking down at you, at a loss for words as your tears only worsened.
"I should have told you sooner," you said, shaking your head and moving away from his hands. "I should have told you when you first told me I was your One, I should have told you and this wouldn't be happening—"
"—what? What is happening? I want to understand," he said, disbelief striking him still. He let you move away, though the hand that touched your face stayed up in the air, waiting for you to take it again. When you did not reach for him, he let it drop.
You needed to just come out and say it. He wanted a babe, but he would never get one. Not from you.
You fought the tremble of your lip. "I'm... I'm not..."
Fili stepped forward, catching your eye.
"I'm not able to give you what you want."
He blinked slowly. His eyes squint ever-so-slightly, eyebrows finding a cinched position as he took in your words. His tongue poked out, wetting his lips as he let out a curt laugh. Not at you, just... a laugh of disbelief.
"What ever are you on, amrâlimê? There is nothing you cannot do for me. I have a whole life waiting with you in tow."
"No, Fili," you said, shaking your head. "No. No, I... I cannot give you what you want. It's not possible."
"Then what do I want, hm? Since you will not tell me what it is. I am not here to play guessing games."
You took in a deep breath, finally catching his eye. You did not look away from him, knowing you looked a downright mess.
"I cannot have your babe."
This stopped him in his tracks. Eyes searching yours, warily tracing your body. His lips part, but no words leave him.
"I cannot have any babe. It is not just yours. It would not matter who I tried with. I... I cannot have children. I cannot have a baby. Fili, I cannot do that for you."
You were spiraling. The high hopes you had set for your future had been squandered by the reminder of your infertility. Something you could curse yourself for, for not telling Fili. For being so secretive with it. But being his One, you thought that perhaps it meant something else, that it would not matter, that—
Fili took both your hands in his. "Look at me."
You shook your head, urging your tears not to fall.
One hand of his kept yours together while his other gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.
"You cannot have a babe?" he softly asked, wanting to make sure he did not misunderstand you. He hadn't. Disappointment riddled his bones even without the confirmation.
That did not mean he would leave you.
"No," you said, a soft sob choking your voice. You shook your head, attempting to pull away once more.
Fili did not let you.
"Be that as it may," Fili said, frowning softly. "I... do wish you would have told me sooner. I would not have mentioned our babe in such a haphazard way, hm?"
You looked up at him, a lone tear escaping. His lips caught it with a soft kiss to your cheek.
"I would scour all of Middle Earth to find what makes you happiest," he said, voice breaking as he fought his own emotion. Had he truly made you feel as if you could not trust him? "I would kill for you. I would live for you. I would do all of the things you needed me to, if you were only to ask."
"Fili..."
"No, I mean it," he said, letting go of your chin. "You must believe me when I say that you are the love of my life. You... you not being able to have a babe? That is something we can work around. If you would like to be a—be a mother, that is."
"I'm sorry," you said, hands moving from his to gently grab onto his coat. "I should—I should have told you. I should have told you the moment I met you."
"Why would you do that?" he asked, a strong hand covering the one which you held over his heart. "It is not something we discussed. I... we have never discussed a family in full. I did not think it would ever..."
You bit your lip, averting your gaze.
"Ah, ah, look at me," Fili said, nudging your chin with his knuckle.
You looked up at him, sniffling once more.
"I love you," Fili said. "I love you beyond what ails you so."
Your bottom lip trembled, for a completely different reason this time. Fili's eyes widened, but his worries were quickly satiated by your words.
"I love you, too," you said, arms moving to wrap around his torso.
He quickly took you in his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
He was disappointed, yes, but it was merely because he would never be able to see a little you running around the Mountain, calling for their mama or papa in such a sweet little voice. He would never see your sweet eyes on a babe, looking at the two of you with more love than they knew what to do with.
But if he felt that way, he knew it was much worse for you. He knew that everything he felt was amplified in the confines of your heart.
He would marry you, love you, hold you until you could no longer stay in this realm. Baby or no.
Fili pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
A soft noise escaped you as you looked up at him, tears drying up in his presence. The fear you felt only moments ago had diminished completely and only with a few words from the dwarf you loved so.
He reached up and gently cupped your cheeks between his large hands. He pressed a kiss to your lips.
"Promise to me, you will not hide something like this in the future."
"I promise," you said. "I... I'm sorry for not... for..."
"Hush, my love," he chided, kissing you once more. "We will figure out things in the future."
We. You were still his, and he was still yours. Forever and always. Regardless of what you could give him beyond the heart he already held between his pointer and his thumb.
The power he held over you was immense. The same could be said in regards to the dwarf prince who cared so deeply for you, a beauty under the mountain that had long since taken every ounce of love he had ever tried to give.
Summary: After learning you’re infertile, Han helps you grieve, reminding you that your worth and your relationship aren’t defined by having children
Warnings: infertility, trauma
Word Count: 1.6k
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The clinic’s hallway smells like antiseptic and old coffee, and the fluorescent lights make everything look too sharp. Too honest. Like there’s nowhere for your face to hide.
Han’s hand is wrapped around yours, warm and steady, thumb rubbing the side of your knuckle in slow circles like he’s trying to remind your body it’s safe.
You don’t feel safe.
Not when the doctor’s voice is still echoing in your head, calm and careful and practiced.
Not when you can still see her mouth forming the words you didn’t know could cut this deep.
You’re completely infertile.
No pregnancy naturally.
Maybe not at all.
Your breath catches and you force it back down, because you don’t want to fall apart in public. You don’t want to cry in front of strangers. You don’t want to become a scene.
Han watches you anyway. Not the way people watch to judge. The way he watches like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. Like he’s memorizing you even in pain.
He doesn’t say, “It’s okay.”
He doesn’t say, “At least.”
He doesn’t try to patch it with false optimism.
He just squeezes your hand and asks softly, “Do you wanna sit for a minute before we go?”
Your voice comes out thin. “I wanna go home.”
“Okay,” he says immediately. “We’re going home.”
Outside, the air is cold enough to sting your cheeks. You stare at the sidewalk like you can keep yourself together by focusing on the cracks in the concrete. Han walks close, shoulder brushing yours. Protective, but not suffocating. Like he knows exactly how to hold you without taking your oxygen.
In the car, you buckle your seatbelt with shaking fingers. Han starts the engine, then pauses.
He looks at you, eyes gentle.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Or don’t. Either way, I’m here.”
You swallow hard. Your throat feels raw like you’ve been screaming, even though you haven’t made a sound.
“I feel stupid,” you whisper.
Han’s eyebrows knit together. “Don’t say that.”
“I can’t stop thinking,” you murmur, staring out the window. “That I did something wrong. That my body’s wrong. That I waited too long. That I’m… broken.”
The last word comes out like it’s been waiting behind your teeth.
Han’s hand grips the steering wheel tighter for a second, like he’s angry at the universe and trying not to take it out on the car.
Then he reaches over and takes your hand again, lifting it to his lips.
“You aren’t broken,” he says, voice low and certain. “You’re you. And I love you.”
A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it.
“I wanted it,” you whisper. “I wanted it so bad. And having PCOS already made everything so excruciating. All the waiting and hoping and appointments and tests. I kept telling myself it’d happen because it had to. Because that’s what people do, right? They want a baby and then one day it’s just… real.”
Han’s jaw tightens, eyes glassy. He blinks hard, then keeps his voice steady anyway.
“It’s not fair,” he says. “It’s not fair that you’ve had to suffer and still get told no. It’s not fair that you have to carry this.”
His words crack something inside you.
You cover your mouth, and the sob comes out anyway.
It’s ugly, it’s uncontrollable, it’s the kind of cry that makes your ribs ache. The kind that steals your breath and gives nothing back.
Han pulls the car over without a second thought. He unbuckles, leans across the console, and wraps both arms around you, careful and firm.
“Let it out,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
You shake in his arms, and you hate how relieved you feel to be held, because the grief makes you feel like you’re betraying something.
“I’m so scared,” you choke out. “I’m scared you’ll be disappointed. I’m scared you’ll regret me. I’m scared you’ll look at me and think, why did I pick her.”
Han goes still.
He pulls back just enough to look at your face. His eyes are wet. His mouth is tight like he’s holding himself together.
He cups your cheeks gently, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Hey,” he says, voice trembling with intensity. “No.”
You try to look away. He doesn’t let you.
“No,” he repeats. “Don’t put that on yourself. Don’t put that on us.”
You whisper, “But you wanted kids.”
Han swallows, breath hitching. “I did. I do. I’m not gonna lie to you.”
Your heart drops.
But he keeps going, fast, like he refuses to let your brain twist it.
“I wanted kids with you,” he says. “I wanted a family with you. I wanted all those stupid little moments, like teaching a tiny person how to tie their shoes, or hearing them call you 엄마 and me 아빠, and us pretending we’re annoyed but actually crying about it when they aren’t looking.”
He laughs once, broken. “I wanted that. Because it was you.”
Your tears fall harder.
Han presses his forehead to yours.
“But you are not a vessel,” he whispers. “You aren’t here to give me something. You’re my wife. You’re my person. You’re the one I chose, and I keep choosing you.”
You sob, “It feels like my fault.”
Han’s voice turns fierce, the kind of fierce that’s always been reserved for protecting you.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “And I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?”
You nod, barely.
He brushes your tears away with his thumbs like he’s trying to erase the hurt, even though he can’t.
“We can grieve,” he says. “We can be angry. We can fall apart. We can scream about it. We can take a break from baby announcements and family questions and all that stuff that feels like a knife right now.”
You sniff, trying to breathe.
“And when you’re ready,” he continues, voice softer, “we can talk about what we want. Not what the world expects. Not what’s supposed to happen. What we want. We could always adopt.”
Your voice shakes. “What if I never stop feeling like this?”
Han kisses your temple, lingering.
“Then we’ll live with it together,” he says. “We’ll build a life that holds the sadness without letting it swallow you.”
He sits back, still holding your hand.
“Today,” he says gently, “we go home. We get you into pajamas. I’ll order food, or I’ll cook, or I’ll burn something and we’ll laugh about it later. You can cry in our bed where nobody can see you, and I’ll stay with you the whole time.”
You stare at him, chest tight.
“What if I’m too much?” you whisper.
Han’s lips curve, soft and sad. “You’ve never been too much. You’re just real.”
He starts the car again, driving slowly, carefully, like the world is fragile.
When you get home, you barely make it through the door before your body caves. You sink onto the couch, face in your hands, shoulders shaking.
Han kneels in front of you immediately.
He doesn’t ask you to be strong.
He doesn’t tell you to look on the bright side.
He just takes your hands and presses kisses into your palms like he’s reminding you those hands have held him through hard days too.
“I’m here,” he whispers.
You break again, and this time you don’t try to stop it.
Han pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped around you. You can feel his heartbeat through his hoodie, steady and stubborn. You cling to him like he’s a life raft.
Minutes pass, maybe an hour. Grief doesn’t care about clocks.
When your crying slows into hiccups, Han reaches for the blanket and wraps it around you both like a cocoon.
He strokes your hair and murmurs, “You can hate the world today. I’ll hate it with you.”
You let out a shaky laugh that turns into another tear.
He smiles against your forehead. “That’s my girl.”
You lift your head just enough to look at him. His eyes are red. He’s been crying too, quietly, like he didn’t want to add to your weight but couldn’t keep it inside.
“Are you okay?” you whisper.
Han’s laugh is breathy and honest. “No. I’m not. But I’m okay because you’re here.”
You flinch at the guilt reflex and he catches it immediately.
“No,” he says again, gentle but firm. “Don’t. Don’t twist it. I’m not okay because this hurts. I’m okay because I’m not alone in it.”
You close your eyes, leaning into him.
He kisses your cheek.
“We’re still us,” he whispers. “We’re still a family. Even if it looks different than what we pictured.”
Your voice is small. “Promise.”
Han’s arms tighten around you.
“I promise,” he says. “And I’m not just promising the happy parts. I’m promising the messy parts. The appointments. The bad nights. The triggers. The grief. All of it.”
He pulls back and looks at you like he’s making a vow all over again.
“You don’t have to earn love by giving me a baby,” he says. “You already have it. You already have me.”
You exhale, trembling.
And for the first time since the clinic, something in your chest loosens, just slightly. Not healed. Not fixed.
But held.
Han presses another kiss to your forehead, then murmurs, “Wanna take a shower? I’ll sit on the bathroom floor like a loser and keep you company if you want.”
You sniff and manage a watery smile. “You’d do that?”
“I would,” he says, dead serious. “I’d do anything to make this even a little less heavy.”
You nod, and he stands with you, hands gentle on your waist, guiding you like you’re precious.
