"Today's the day. You nervous, querida?" she asks, squeezing your hand gently.

"A bit." You rub your other hand on your slightly swollen stomach.

"Don't be. Everything's going to be fine. That little goober's perfect already." You smile and lean over to kiss her cheek.

"I love you, San." Even though it's just an ultrasound, you're still nervous. All of the horrible possibilities are running on a loop through your head: what if the baby is disabled in some way? "Tell me something, San."

"Like what?" She looks concerned.
"I don't know, just tell me something."

She pauses for a moment. "I've been thinking about baby names a lot." You smile gently. "I think, for a girl, we should go with Elizabeth Rose Pierce. We could call her Lily –"

"I thought we were hyphenating," you interject. "You're her mother, too." Santana grins.

"Elizabeth Rose Lopez-Pierce, then." She bends down and kisses your stomach. "And if the little goober's a boy, we can call him Thomas Brandon Pierce – or, Lopez-Pierce."

"Hmmm…" You smile and run your hand through her hair. "Thomas."

"Or Lily," Santana adds with a smile.

"I love them both, San." You look down to see Santana's tan fingers interlocking with yours on your stomach.

"Me too, querida. Me too." She leans up, and gives you a gentle kiss, her lips gently pressed to yours. Someone in the room clears their throat, and you pull apart to see a solitary woman holding a People magazine, but staring pointedly at you. You feel Santana's fingers grip yours more tightly as she straightens up.

"San, it doesn't matter."

"Yes, actually, it does." She glares back at the woman. "Do you have a problem with my family?"

"I do. Two women should not be able to marry and have children," the woman responds coldly.

"Well, I don't see your husband or boyfriend or lover here, so I can't make any judgments about you and your family."

"Ms. O'Connell?" a squat nurse in green scrubs asks, and the woman drops her People angrily, standing to follow the nurse back. You wait a few seconds before speaking.

"San, that was amazing!" She leans over and kisses your temple.

"I love you, Britt. No one has the right to insult my family. I mean, come on! This is the 21st century. We live in friggin' DC." She looks at you, stroking your hair gently, combing it loose around your shoulders. "I love you, and our little goober, boy or girl."

"Ms. Pierce?" You heave yourself out of the chair, and grab Santana's hand, allowing her to lead you to the tall doctor in pink scrubs at the door. "Hello, I'm Laura, and I'll be performing your ultrasound today."

"I'm Brittany, and this is my wife, Santana."

"Pleasure to meet both of you. Please have a seat." Your heart is racing as you heave yourself up unto the table and lean back. You lift your shirt gingerly to expose your belly and grimace as Laura squirts the ice-cold gel onto it. She's talking at you but you're too focused on Santana, who is stroking your hair and whispering soothingly to you.

"You are the most beautiful woman on the entire planet. You are perfect in every way shape and form, and I love you more than anything," she whispers, and kisses your temple. You close your eyes, reveling in her touch for a second before Laura snaps you back to reality.

"Would you like to know the sex?" Laura interjects. You stare at Santana; both of you are grinning ear-to-ear and you nod, feeling your face burning.

"Yeah," you whisper, squeezing Santana's hand tightly. "Yeah, we would." She runs a hand through your loose hair, and nods again.

"Well, congratulations. It's a girl," Laura says. To your surprise, tears are already dripping down Santana's face. You reach up and wipe them away, tears welling up in your own eyes.

"I'll leave you two alone," Laura says kindly.

"Lily," you whisper. Santana nods with a grin, and bends down to kiss your stomach. She runs a hand in circles over your skin, sending tingles through you.

"Our little girl." Santana straightens up and presses her lips to yours. You savor every taste of her, the salt mixed with her cherry chapstick.

"San?" you ask as she pulls away.

"Yeah, querida?"

"I love you." You reach up to touch her face, and wipe the tears away with your thumb.

"I love you too, querida."

X

You're wake up in a hospital room feeling nauseous, your vision still fuzzy. Someone is leaning over you, adjusting something attached to you. Everything that happened yesterday suddenly comes flooding back.

X

"San, it's time," you say calmly through the pain radiating through your stomach. Unfortunately Santana is hardly as calm; within five minutes she has all but flung you into the car and is driving down the highway at an absurd speed.

"We're here to see Dr. Ashworth," Santana almost screams. "My wife is having a baby!" You squeeze her hand, trying to anchor her to you. A nurse takes you back to a delivery room and disappears to find the doctor. Santana helps you undress and slip the hospital gown on. Dr. Ashworth enters the room; she's a beautifully tan woman, probably Filipina, and she presses her glasses up her nose before offering her hand.

"Hey, Brittany, Santana." She shakes both of your hands authoritatively but calmly. "Let's have a baby." You look up at Santana, who looks a combination of terrified and like she's about to puke. Your heart is starting to beat heavily. It's time.

The next four hours are a haze to you. Santana never once leaves your side, stroking your hair and wiping away the sweat from your face. Every muscle in your body aches, and for a split second between contractions, you are grateful that you're in such good shape. You hear the doctor shouting to push, and you hear someone screaming. As you collapse back onto the bed, you hear a raw cry from between your ankles.

"You did it, querida. You did it."

X

Santana is stroking your hair and kisses your forehead gently.

"Where is she?" you ask, your voice more urgent and hoarse than you expected. Santana walks over to an incubator and lifts a small bundle from it.

"She's right her," she says calmly, carrying the bundle over. A small mewl escapes from the blankets. "Hey, Lily-bear." She's cradling the bundle more gently and more protectively then you have ever seen. You extend your arms and Santana lowers the bundle into them. You feel yourself immediately tear up at the sight of her adorably chubby cheeks and her bright blue eyes that are staring up at you. You run a finger down her cheek and kiss her forehead.

"Oh, she's perfect," you gasp.

"Yeah," Santana agrees. "She looks just like you." She bends to press her lips to yours gently, before settling herself next to you on the bed. You rest your head on the crook of her shoulder, cradling Lily against you. You allow the tears to fall freely, but you are the happiest you have ever been on that bed with your wife and your daughter. Your family.