#mim

Alexia winces as someone yells across the room, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch. Chaos reigns supreme around her, the home her and Jenni built a year back now sits filled with her family and Jenni's and their friends in celebration of the madrileña's 36th birthday tomorrow.

It is a rare night where football talk is on the back burner. The room is loud with the chatter of multiple conversations taking place, and their once large-feeling abode feels rather small when filled with so many bodies and voices.

Mila stands on the kitchen island, her tiny hips swaying back and forth to the playlist Patri has taken over. The younger midfielder connected her phone to the speakers as soon as she entered the house and realized it was Alexia's music and not Jenni's that was setting the tone for this party. The striker's music choices are approved by the youngsters. Alexia's…not as much.

Turning back to the situation at hand, Alexia watches as Cata encourages the little girl's dance performance with a laugh and clapping hands to help her keep rhythm.

The midfielder sighs, knowing she should probably go over there and get her daughter down, but she's unable to muster the energy. Thankfully, Alba steps in with a smile for Mila and a scolding finger for Cata, allowing Alexia to sink back into the couch cushion, tucked away in her own little bubble away from most of the commotion.

She's feeling completely drained today. All the people currently in her home aren't helping on that front. And the cramps intermittently seizing her back definitely aren't increasing her desire to get off the couch and mingle.

"You okay, Ale?" Irene asks with a smile, dropping down to sit near the catalana.

"Fine," Alexia tries to smile in reassurance, although it lands more like a grimace as another spasm hits and her hand flies to her side as if the pressure will remove the pain.

"You don't look fine," the defender replies with a frown, eyes popping up to scan the room for Jenni.

"I am fine," the midfielder responds firmly. "I picked up Mila the other day and twisted my back. When did we get so old?"

Irene rolls her eyes. "I have no clue what you're talking about. I feel like I'm 25."

"Bullshit!" Alexia exclaims with a laugh. "You were just complaining the other day about your ankles popping the entire walk to the bathroom when you get up in the morning."

Chuckling, the defender nods in defeat.

"Irene!" someone calls out across the room.

Both their gazes raise, landing on the group of Barcelona youngsters huddled suspiciously near the kitchen sink, six pairs of eyes look at them expectantly.

Irene looks at Alexia. "You're the captain."

"You are too," the midfielder responds with an eyebrow raise. "And they called 'Irene' not 'Alexia'. This one is all you."

"These kids…" Irene mutters as she pushes up off the couch.

The catalana laughs in her wake, mood lightening slightly as she people-watches from her spot tucked into the couch.

She watches her wife flutter around the room, grin beaming and lighting up the space with her dimples out most of the night.

Jenni checks in periodically, bringing her a plate of food, refilling her drink, asking if she needs meds to help with the back pain.

Alexia sends her back out into the crowd of people gathered to celebrate her birth with a smile, content to stay in one spot and let her body rest.

Teammates filter over. She's definitely not lacking for conversation.

Mila even makes some fly-by appearances, cheeks flushed, eyes dancing, and hair wildly falling out of her ponytail. She kisses Alexia messily on the cheek, steals a bite of her food, and is off running, Vicky chasing her from behind as the toddler giggles madly.

It's only when her mama comes over with her kind, motherly eyes that track over every inch of her body like she's still a five-year-old who needs to be monitored for injury that Alexia finally considers something might not be completely normal about this back ache.

"Filla," her mom states, "it's your back, no?"

"Did Jenni tell you? I was lifting Mila up to brush her teeth last night and something twisted weird. My back has been cramping ever since. You know how much I hate not being mobile. Throwing my back out right now is the absolute last thing I need."

Eli smiles that little half-knowing smile. "Ale, I don't think you've thrown your back out."

"No? Then explain the back pain," the younger catalana states stubbornly. "Have you ever thrown your back out? Maybe you don't know what it feels like."

Chuckling, the older woman responds. "Oh, I know exactly what this feels like, Alexia. I've been through it. Twice."

Finally, the shoe drops for the footballer, her eyes widening comically. "No," she states slowly and then more quickly following, her tone ramping up as her anxiety spikes. "No, no, no. I'm not ready."

Eli leans forward with her hand outreached, wrinkled through the years as love and commitment and time poured out of them and into her daughters, until it lands gently on her eldest daughter's swollen stomach. "I think you're in labor, filla. Your stomach is hard. Are you having contractions?"

Alexia sits in silence, mouth opened slightly as the panic sets in while her mother rubs her stomach. A strong kick bumps up against the hand, causing Eli to gasp and the midfielder to wince, a hand reaching out to press against her side.

"A footballer from the womb," her mother states with a grin. "I should expect nothing less from a baby from you two," she adds jokingly, eyes flicking up and catching Jenni's gaze from across the room.

The madrileña pauses mid sentence, eyes switching to where her wife clearly is hunched over holding her stomach, and then back to an imploring Eli.

Jenni catches the drift much faster, her own eyes widening in alarm only for a second before she calmly excuses herself from her conversation and strides over to the couch.

"Ale?" she asks softly. "Is it time?"

"No," the midfielder responds stubbornly. "It's just these damn back spasms from lifting Mila last night."

"I don't think it's just a back spasm," Eli counters while her daughter scowls behind her. "All my contractions for both my girls were in my back, like Ale is describing. I think she's in labor."

"Okay, okay," Jenni replies calmly, her head already sorting through the list of what needs to happen.

"Not okay," Alexia replies, tone shifting up as the panic surges again. "It's too soon. And I'm not ready for this!"

"Querida," Jenni says, squatting down in front of her wife, "It's a couple weeks early, but that's how babies come—on their own time. You're 38 weeks, it's perfectly normal for the baby to come now."

"I'm scared," Alexia admits softly as Eli slips away to find Alba, the two of them were tapped weeks ago to be on Mila duty when this baby decides to make an appearance. And it seems like the day is finally here.

"I know, amor," the madrileña consoles. "But I'm right here with you, okay? I have the bag packed. Mama and Alba will watch Mila. We went to the birthing class and know the breathing techniques. We can do this."

"But this baby has to come out."

"Yes," Jenni states with a teasing grin, "The baby will need an exit path."

"I never thought about that before right now. Holy fuck. This baby has to come out of me."

"I don't think you'd be pleased with sharing your body for the next eighteen years, no?"

Alexia winces as another wave of pain shoots up her spine. Her mother has to be right, these spasms are only getting stronger despite the footballer reducing her movement the past day.

"Oh, Ale," Jenni sighs sympathetically, her hand reaching around to rub firmly into the small of her wife's back.

The catalana sighs in relief, the pressure helping.

"I think we should go to the hospital," the striker states softly.

For once, Alexia doesn't retort. She just nods in agreement. "I'm sorry I'm ruining your birthday."

"Stop!" Jenni exclaims. "Alexia, you're having our baby. This second little person who will call you Mama and me Mami. You're doing that for us. And I couldn't imagine a better birthday gift than this! Maybe the baby will actually come tomorrow, on my birthday. How cool would that be?"

Alexia watches as her wife beams at her with excitement. Her lips twitch up into an answering smile, nodding as the anxiety at whisking her wife away from her own birthday celebration wanes.

Jenni's hands reach out, slowly pulling Alexia upright into a standing position, her belly pressed between the two of them. The striker's tattooed fingers reach down to rub lightly over the bump, the catalana sighing into the touch, forehead dropping to Jenni's shoulder.

"I'm going to go grab the bag, tell Irene where we're going because I know she'll handle the party duties, and check Alba has Mila covered for tonight," the madrileña states.

"I'm going to go to the restroom. But I want to see Mila before we go. I think we should tell her together where we're going."

"Sure," Jenni agrees. "Do you need help to the bathroom?"

"I'm pregnant," Alexia grunts, "and apparently in labor. I'm not an invalid."

The older woman laughs. There's her grumpy girl. "Love you," she states with a grin and a hip squeeze before she's off to check off her to-do list prior to leaving for the hospital.

When Alexia slowly waddles out of their room ten minutes later, a hand holding her stomach as if that will stop the pain of what she now finally admits are contractions, she spots Jenni squatted down her the front door, the hospital bag at her feet. Mila stands in front of her, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She only catches the tail end of their conversation.

"Mama and I will be back, mi amorcito, okay. You're going to have so much fun with tía!"

Alexia's hand lands on their daughter's messy curls.

"Mama?" the toddler questions with a wobbly lip. "I come with?"

"Not for this, my girl. Mama and Mami have to go by ourselves. But we'll see you really soon, okay? And we'll have the new baby with us."

"Best friend?"

The catalana tries to stem the flow of tears that start every time Mila references the baby as her best friend. These pregnancy hormones have hit hard, and things that arguably would never have pulled tears from her before now do at the drop of a hat. But none can touch the speed with which tears gather in the corner of her eyes at hearing Mila say that about the new baby.

"Yeah, we'll bring your best friend back with us," Alexia chokes out, bending over as much as her belly will allow to drop a kiss to her daughter's head. "I love you, Mila."

"I love you too Mama," the little girl responds, hugging the midfielder's leg tightly before she goes tearing off towards Vicky who is instigating chaos in the background.

As Jenni stands up, Soledad catches sight of them near the door, her voice rising slightly to be heard above the conversations that have filled the quick void of music before the next beat starts.

"Where are you two going?"

It feels like every eye turns towards them, Jenni's hand wrapped in Alexia's while the other holds a duffel bag and the catalana's second hand presses into her back to relieve some of the pressure.

"Hospital," Jenni answers easily. "We're having a baby!"

The room fills first with a few gasps. Until Patri's cheer of "Barça Baby incoming!" has all their teammates cheering, the rest of the party-goers joining in as the younger midfielder changes the song on her phone.

Alexia huffs, half in embarrassment at being the center of attention and half in amusement as Stevie Wonder's Isn't She Lovely filters through the speakers of their house.

While the party continues, folks having even more reason to celebrate now, Jenni and Alexia slip out of the house silently, the door closing behind and marking the end of their chapter as a family of three. The next time they open this door, there will be a new member taking the title of Baby of the Family.

---------------------------

It's not quick.

It's not easy.

It's back-breaking work.

It's more exhausting than any match, even those that go to extra time and beyond.

It's pushing to the edge of discomfort and then walking ten steps past it.

It's a teeth-gritting, white-knuckling level of pain never experienced before.

But it brings the biggest reward.

Jenni sits on the chair next to the bed the following evening, on her birthday, gaze taking in Alexia. "I'm so damn proud of you," she states quietly as tired amber eyes flick up to meet hers.

"We did this," the catalana counters, staring back down at the tiny bundle in her arms with the tiniest little rosebud lips and the fullest head of hair.

"We did," the madrileña replies. "But you shouldered this load the most, my love."

It's not hyperbolic.

They had the conversation about expanding their family before the start of the season.

Jenni still had a year-and-a-half left on her contract with Barcelona. She offered for them to wait, and she would carry after she retired.

But Alexia wanted their second to get to experience both of them playing, to have the photos of the four of them together on the pitch before the striker hung up her boots for good.

Perhaps a small part driving her was all the months she missed with Mila. While she is undoubtedly the toddler's Mama now, she wasn't involved in Jenni's decision to go forward and use her time away in Mexico to start the family she dreamed of with Alexia but executed by herself on the back of their breakup so many years ago.

The catalana wasn't there for the beginning, the nine months Jenni's surrogate grew Mila, or the roughly ten months it took before Alexia became aware of the little girl. And it still eats at her somewhat.

Mila may be Jenni's mini me in looks—green eyes, dark hair, and that grin that brings out her dimples,—but she is Alexia in personality. The two latched onto each other and never let go. Alexia is thankful for the second chance to love Jenni and Mila the way it should have been from the start.

So, when the topic of having a second child came up, she knew explicitly that she wanted to be the one to carry this baby. Using a surrogate the first go-around was the only possibility open to Jenni who was carrying the emotional and financial weight solely and therefore couldn't afford to take time off playing to get pregnant herself. But as they talked about getting pregnant this go-around, it took on a different look. Because they were together, married for over two years now and thriving.

Jenni really questioned if the timing was right for Alexia to step away from football. She was only a few years out from her ACL recovery and had hit better than her peak, outperforming just about everyone and once again likely going to be up for contention for the Ballon d'Or again.

But with a summer ahead with no international tournament for the first time in years, Alexia was resolute that she wanted to take the time for her most important accomplishment yet: expanding their family and grabbing that dream they always had together of two babies, one that looked like the madrileña and one like the catalana.

Mila checked the first box.

And now it was time for the second.

Alexia attended the Ballon d'Or ceremony with Jenni on her arm, slated for a top three finish. The nervous flutter in her stomach that followed her through the award ceremony wasn't because of the possibility of winning (or losing), though. It was due to the appointment that they had scheduled for the end of the month at the fertility clinic in Barcelona to really make a go of their dream to add one more heartbeat to this family of theirs.

If they never get lucky again in this life, the catalana is sure it is because they used it all up at that appointment. When they sat in their bathroom, an ungodly hour in the morning on a rare Saturday off, counting down the seconds until the pregnancy test could be read, Alexia prayed.

She's never been particularly religious outside of the normal cultural aspect of holidays, but she sat there and prayed for all their effort and time to have worked on the first attempt.

Jenni turned over that stick and two pink lines stared back at them, and Alexia was more relieved than winning their first Champions League title 4-0.

A hand pressed to her abdomen, the midfielder cried while Jenni hugged her in excitement because all she had ever wanted in life was steadily asleep in her cot down the hall while the second part of that dream was now growing inside her. Their family would be complete come the middle of next year. 2026 was a year of dreams coming to fruition.

Alexia never could have predicted this baby being born on Jenni's birthday, though.

"Ale," Jenni whispers reverently as a finger gently strokes the baby's cheek, "you have given me the best gift ever."

The catalana smiles softly as the baby murmurs at the touch. "I'm not sure I'll be able to top this year's gift," she states with a chuckle.

"You can just re-wrap this gift each year for the rest of our lives," the madrileña responds. "I can't believe it, cariño. We're moms again. Another baby girl. Wow!"

The baby stirs in Alexia's arms, eyes slowly blinking open to stare up at the catalana. "She's perfect," the midfielder states quietly.

"Of course she is," Jenni replies, "she comes from you."

"I hope she gets your bubbliness," Alexia admits.

"We'll love her even if she decides to take your introvertedness to another level and becomes a hermit," the striker jokes fondly.

"She's ours," Alexia states in awe. "I can't believe it."

"Luna Jaime Hermoso Putellas," Jenni states as her wife gently hands over their youngest. "Mila maybe be our little miracle, our little sun. But you, mi amorcito, will be our moon, a force to be reckoned with one day, bending tides to your will. You have your Papa's name and legacy to guide you through the world, and your Mama's stubborn genes I'm sure," the madrileña teases the catalana.

"I love you," Alexia replies, head tipped back on her pillow.

Just then a knock sounds at the door and two tiny hands appear around the edge, green eyes following cautiously. "Mama? Mami?"

"Come in Mila," Jenni answers, voice soft. "Do you want to meet your sister?"

The toddler nods enthusiastically as Alba and Eli quietly enter the room as well.

"Hi!" Mila states, eyes wide as she takes in the baby in her Mami's arms. "This my best friend?" she asks for clarification. "My baby?"

"This is your little sister," Alba answers, sitting next to Jenni and Mila to catch a glimpse of the newest member of the family. "And, yes, she'll be your best friend for life," she states, wet eyes flicking up to meet those of her older sister. The eyes are familiar, amber eyes that have been watching over the youngest Putellas her entire life, guiding and protecting and loving her since the day she was born into a scene not far from this one.

Alexia can remember it vaguely.

But when Luna's little hand wrap around Mila's finger, eliciting a gasp from the toddler and a "Mama, look, she love me!", Alexia knows that Alba's statement about being best friends for life rings true.

Because the midfielder is watching it happen here in real time, the forming of a bond that will be impossible to break.

The toddler giggles as the baby yawns, and Alexia watches her oldest step into the same role she herself did almost 29 years ago.

Omg, Roxy? How cute, her and Torbek bouncers.

And FROSTY, how forward! And to ignore all the mess for Blarbie, we’re going STEADY now. New love.

Gricko, I’d made it without tears in that final epilogue until you started telling your bed time story. But nothing compared to getting coffee with Mim. Lost love?

Kremy? Gideon putting up with you? Omg, the stupid grin I can’t stop grinning! They’re so sweet my blood sugar is spiking. They’re so emotionally mature and developed. And I’m SCREAMING! Silent screaming! Gideon Nathaniel Coal! Kremy Etienne(?please help me with this spelling) Lecroux! Canon smooch! A romantic canon smooch! Old love!