Prentissmylove

Between Hazel and your first trimester, finding time alone has been quite difficult.

Emily had a great pregnancy. Her morning sickness went away quickly, and by the time Hazel started moving, you’d already realized she would be a very calm baby. Emily’s pregnancy symptoms had pretty much only been getting great hair and clear skin, and even Hazel’s birth had been rather easy, not taking too long after the requested epidural.

You, on the other hand, didn’t have such luck.

From the beginning, you've been sick. It's taken long to subside, almost 18 weeks before you can say you're actually managing to keep down your food. Emily's been an angel, really, dedicating all of her time to you and your five year old, even taking a week off work so she could be with you.

It's finally better. You're not as exhausted, though you feel sleepy much earlier in the day than you used to, and the almost constant hunger, now that you can eat, is a bit annoying, but nothing compared to before.

The issue is, with the second trimester comes many hormonal changes, some for the better, some for the worst, and, most of all, the way you want Emily all the time. From the moment you wake up until the moment you close your eyes at night, you feel like you might burst out of your skin at any moment. And, of course, Hazel is determined to not let you have a moment to yourselves.

She'd been asking for a baby sister. One of her friends at school had one and she was just enamored with the idea. Between planning and two rounds of IVF, you thought she would've sort of forgotten it by now, or at least been less obsessed with it. You were wrong, though. She was still excited, amazingly so, and kept asking when her baby sister would finally come. Sure, you had explained to her that you couldn't control if it was a girl, that she might have a baby brother, but she was adamant that the baby in mama's belly was a girl.

Thankfully, she was right.

Now, Hazel clings to you like she never had before. She'd always been a sweet girl, but she was usually subtle with her affection, so much like Emily in that way. She'd let you both kiss and hug her, yet she took initiating contact very seriously, only when she deemed it necessary. It was funny when, as a baby, she'd only fall asleep in one of her mothers’ arms, refusing to go to sleep by herself in her bassinet — funny now, that you weren't exhausted at every minute of every day.

Ever since getting her wish, she's been like one of those fingerlings toys. From wanting to protect her sister, to being excited for the time she finally comes, she doesn't want to let go of you, only doing so when it's time for school, though she still grumbles about wanting to take her sister with her to show her friends.

Emily is finding the situation very stressful.

Heading an Interpol team is no easy feat, and she's learning that heading an Interpol team while raising a five year old and trying to take care of a pregnant wife is, most assuredly, not easy either.

You try telling her that you're fine, that she doesn't need to leave work as early as she has been. You were already used to her crazy BAU hours, so you don't understand why she's working herself crazy during the day to get home at six on the dot. You tell her it's not necessary, your symptoms have subdued now, and you're perfectly capable of picking Hazel up from school, making dinner and keeping her entertained until bed time.

Your more flexible hours as a psychologist have been a blessing, and you've even been doing more remote work now. Most of your patients agreed to it, and with the ones that didn't feel comfortable, you found time that worked to be at the office.

Emily doesn't care about that reasoning. She says that she wants to be there for you, and she wants to enjoy time with Hazel before she's not your only daughter anymore — especially when she looks at her, tucked in, saying she's growing up too fast.

It's true. Hazel is growing up too fast. You feel it most of all as you carry her on your back, her legs holding on to dear life around your quickly disappearing waist, not being able to lock together around your belly, and her arms wrapped around your neck. Every so often you have to remind her to loosen up a little so you can breathe.

Stirring the broccoli in a pot, you hoist her up higher on your back. Soon, you know she'll be too heavy, or you'll be too heavy, to carry her like this, so you let yourself enjoy it.

“Are you going to eat all of your broccoli today?” You ask, placing the lid and turning off the burner, letting the steam do its job.

“Smells like fart,” she counters. Oh, of course.

Biting your lip to hold in a smile, you turn so your noses are touching, “who taught you that word?”

“Mummy.”

Oh, of course.

“When?”

“She open’d the fridge and said som’thing here smells like fart.”

You lean back so she can sit on the counter, then turn to her with a raised eyebrow.

“And what did she say about repeating that?”

Hazel shrugs exaggeratedly, her little shoulders going up and down as she keeps an innocent look on her face.

The door opening interrupts whatever you were about to say. Emily's heeled boots earn an almost pavlovian response of Hazel being asked to be put down.

She runs, ignoring your be careful! and meeting her mother in the living room. Emily lifts her up easily, leaving kisses all over her face, Hazel's sweet giggles making you both smile.

You check if all the burners are off before leaning on the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Emily comes closer, Hazel wrapped around her side, and leaves a kiss on your lips, then your cheek. You smile at her, touching her face for a brief moment before Hazel earns both of your attention back.

She babbles about helping with dinner as Emily tries to put her down. When she refuses, she transfers Hazel over to your arms so she can, finally, take off her jacket and let down her purse. As Emily walks towards the bedroom to change, you follow, with Hazel talking all the while — what she did at school, how mama took her shopping (for groceries, you add), how helpful she was as you made dinner.

You sit on the bed as Emily moves to your ensuite. Hazel kicks her legs a little, but stays seated on your lap, her small hands grabbing one of your arms.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Haze?” Emily calls from the bathroom. You can't see her, but you can hear the smile on her face.

“Broccolis ‘mells like fart.”

Emily tucks Hazel in that night.

You draw a bath, quickly getting in and delighting in the way the, honestly lukewarm, water soothes your tired muscles. With the layout of the apartment, it seems everything is silent, but you know Hazel is probably talking Emily's ear off as they get her ready for bed.

After what feels like only seconds — you probably dozed off for a while —, Emily enters the bathroom, her pajamas on and her hair almost entirely dry after her earlier shower. You look from her to your stomach, still not big enough to be seen over the water, but you know it will be soon.

Emily lowers herself to the plush rug near the bathtub, resting her head on her hand as the other touches your shoulder softly.

“How many stories did she demand?”

She smiles, “only two, I guess she was tired.”

You nod, “many big emotions today at the grocery store.”

“Any tantrums?”

“Not really,” you explain. “But she wanted me to carry her- it took a while for me to convince her to sit in the cart.”

“We're gonna have to talk to her about this.”

You wave a hand, “I can still carry her for now.”

She scoots closer, presses on your shoulder when she finds a knot, earning a sigh. “Yeah, but we'll be lucky if we can convince her before you get to 28 weeks.”

Chuckling, you raise a wet hand to hold hers. She doesn't mind. “She's getting so heavy.”

“Oh my God,” Emily agrees, “so heavy. She's so tall.”

“Taking after her mommy,” you say, kissing the hand you're holding. She shrugs happily. “Are you getting in here with me or not?”

“What if she wakes up?”

“She won't,” you assure her. “I managed to tire her out during the day.”

Emily stands, already unbuttoning her shirt. “Oh? So this was all planned?”

“You know me, baby,” you say, resting your arms on the edge of the tub, “I'm always thinking ahead.”

She doesn't say anything else before she leans down to kiss you. Properly this time.