The journey to becoming parents is not one of perfection or predictability. It’s messy, uncertain, and often leaves you questioning whether you’re truly ready for what’s coming next. But somehow, even in the middle of the chaos, there’s an undeniable pull—a love so deep, that’s impossible to ignore. In these moments, time stretches and contracts, and everything that once felt small becomes monumental. The laughter, the fear, the quiet moments in between—they all build the foundation for something far bigger than you ever imagined.
This is the story of that journey. The moments you never expected, the emotions you never knew you were capable of feeling, and the profound change that happens the moment you meet the one you’ve been waiting for.
1. “We’re Pregnant.”
It happened on a quiet afternoon.
Stacey couldn’t believe it.
They only had tried twice the IVF procedure, and she didn’t expect it to work—not so soon. But now everything made sense: the weird appetite, the mood swings she chalked up.
She looked down at the test again just to be sure.
Still two lines.
Her fingers moved before her brain could catch up.
She texted:
“Hello love… please come home.”
Not panicked—just… overwhelmed. In the way you get when something beautiful and terrifying sneaks up on you.
Jhoanna didn’t ask for details because her wife needed her.
She just stood up from her desk at the newsroom, told her coworkers it was an emergency, and left.
When she finally opened the front door, she called out,
“Mahal? Where are you?”
“I’m here,” Stacey called from the bathroom.
And then she handed the test over.
Jhoanna stared for a second too long before letting out a breathless, “Oh my God, Mahal… we’re pregnant!”
Stacey tried to smile but couldn’t hide the wobble in her voice.
“I’m a bit scared.”
Jhoanna pulled her close, held her steady.
“I’m here. I’ll be with you all the way. We got this.”
Then a pause, a soft laugh—
“We’re gonna be great parents, Stacey. I just know it.”
2. “Unnecessary Mood Swings and Likings.”
One night, she woke you up because she had to have a vanilla ice cream.
Not just wanted but needed.
Because the baby wanted it. And that was that.
You didn’t argue.
Your princess made a request, and you—faithful as ever—obeyed.
But when you got back, carefully carrying the pint of ice cream like a sacred relic, you found her curled up on the bed… crying.
“Mahal Stacey, what happened? Are you okay?” You rushed over and hugged her, heart pounding.
“Love… I don’t want the ice cream anymore.” She sniffled, then added, “Just cold water.” And then cried even harder.
“Then I’ll get you a cold water.”
You were about to get up, but she held your hand.
“But I asked you to buy ice cream, and now I changed my mind, and I feel bad.”
And cue: more tears.
You pulled her in closer.
“Oh Mahal, it’s okayyy. Don’t feel bad tahan na please.” You said it with all the warmth your sleepy heart could muster.
“I love you, Stacey. Please know that.”
“I love you, too.”
You thought that was the end of it.
Of course it wasn’t.
There were days when she didn’t want to look at you.
Not even a little bit.
Somehow, all the pink things in the house suddenly offended her—even though she’s obsessed with pink. The pink mug, the pink slippers, even the pink dishcloth had to be hidden. You didn’t ask questions. You just adapted.
She took the guest room, and you stayed in the main—but only after gently requesting that she keep the door open… just in case she needed you.
One night, you couldn’t take the distance anymore.
You walked into the guest room, stood by the door like a kid who broke a vase and pouting.
“Stacey… Mahal. I know you don’t want to see me. But I missed you.”
You took a deep breath.
“Just… don’t look at me. I’ll come from behind.”
And then you gently slid into the bed and wrapped your arms around her.
She sighed and leaned in to your touch.
“I’m sorry, Jho. I don’t know what’s up with me.”
You kissed the top of her head.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
You didn’t need her to be perfect.
You just needed her to be there.
And she was.
Even on the days when ice cream became cold water
and pink became unbearable—
she was still Stacey.
Still yours.
Still home.
Always.
3. "The First Ultrasound."
Neither of you talked much on the way.
Stacey kept rubbing her belly, like trying to remind herself it was real. You kept looking at her, then looking away.
Like you didn’t want her to see how nervous you were too.
In the waiting room, she reached for your hand and said, “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
You squeezed her fingers gently.
“We’ll throw up together.”
She let out a small laugh, but it didn’t hide the fear in her eyes.
When her name was called, everything felt too fast.
Suddenly she was lying down, shirt pulled up, the cold gel making her flinch.
You stood by her side, but your legs didn’t feel like they were yours.
The Doctor smiled softly.
“You ready to meet the baby?”
Stacey just nodded. No words. Just that quiet kind of nod that means everything is happening too fast.
And then… the sound.
You didn’t expect it.
That fast little rhythm like someone drumming tiny fingers against a tin roof.
Like a heartbeat that didn’t quite belong to the world yet—but was already a part of yours.
Stacey turned to you, tears already slipping.
“Jho…”
You couldn’t speak. Your throat closed up.
You just nodded.
“That’s our baby?” she whispered.
The Doctor said yes, but you said it again anyway.
“Yes. That’s our baby.”
And when they printed the picture and handed it to her, Stacey just stared.
“Why do I feel scared and happy at the same time?”
You looked at her, then at the tiny shadow on the printout.
“Because it’s something you love, and you just want to protect it.”
She nodded slowly.
You both held that small photo like it was breathing.
4. "Choosing Baby Names."
It started as a joke—names tossed around between brushing your teeth and doing the dishes.
You didn’t expect it to become something that sat in your chest.
“I just don’t want a name that sounds like she’ll get bullied in school,” Stacey said one night, half-joking, half-serious.
You were sitting on the floor of the bedroom, her legs in your lap.
“And I don’t want something too safe,” she added. “She’s not a background character.”
You smiled, brushing your fingers gently along her shin.
“Okay. So no to Mildred.”
She smacked your leg lightly.
“Jho. Be serious.”
But then it went quiet.
“I want a name that feels like her,” she said softly. “Even if I don’t know her yet.”
You sat with that for a bit. Letting the room be quiet.
And then, without really thinking, you said, “What about Jazz?”
She looked at you.
“Jazz?”
“Yeah. Like… the music. It doesn’t follow rules. It just flows.”
She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you. You got a little nervous. “Too weird?”
But then she smiled, slow and real.
“No. Not weird. Just… honest.”
“Jazz,” she repeated.
Then looked down at her belly, both hands resting there.
“I think she’s already dancing in there.”
You leaned in and kissed her shoulder.
“Hi, baby Jazz,” you whispered. “We don’t know you that much. But we already love you.”
Stacey nodded. Her eyes were shiny again.
“I hope she knows,” she said.
“She will,” you whispered back.
“We’ll make sure she knows.”
5. "Setting Up the Baby Room."
You didn’t expect it to feel like this.
You thought it would be another thing to check off the list—just buying some stuff, putting it together, getting the crib. But it wasn’t that simple.
There was something about seeing it all come together that hit you in the gut. Like you were assembling not just a room but a whole new world.
Stacey was standing on the ladder, her hands trembling slightly as she painted the walls. You didn’t say anything at first, just watched her from the floor, trying to follow the instructions to put together the crib.
But it didn’t make sense. The pieces didn’t line up, or maybe it was just you who didn’t, and your patience was wearing thin.
She looked down at you, her eyes soft but tired.
“Are we sure we’re ready for this?” she asked, voice small, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be unsure.
You stopped for a moment, the screw in your hand still in the air. You looked at her, standing on the ladder, her hair falling in loose waves around her face, the paint on her hands smudging her shirt. She looked tired, but still so beautiful, so capable.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “But we’re doing it.” you smiled.
She nodded slowly, looking at the room around her. “It’s just… this is real now, isn’t it? This isn’t some dream. We’re… we’re actually going to have a baby.”
You swallowed hard, the weight of it settling in your chest. “Yeah.”
Neither of you said anything more. You just stood there, letting the silence fill the space between you, letting the moment hang, heavy and unspoken.
Finally, when you finished the crib and set it in the center of the room, you both stood there, looking around, your hands brushing as you both slowly turned in circles. There was a soft kind of fear there, but something else too—a strange, quiet kind of certainty that you were building something bigger than both of you. Something that would change everything.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Stacey said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.
You stepped up to her, placed your hand on her cheek, and looked at her. “We’re not just doing it,” you said, your voice rough with something you couldn’t quite name. “We’re already doing it.”
You both looked around the room again. The walls, the crib, the soft light that filtered through the curtains—everything was already starting to feel like home.
“Jazz is going to love it here,” you whispered.
Stacey smiled, but it was bittersweet. “I hope so. I hope she’ll know how much we wanted this. How much we wanted her.”
And in that quiet, ordinary moment—surrounded by half-painted walls and unpacked baby clothes—it felt like everything you’d ever wanted was right in front of you.
6. "The First Kick in Public."
You were sitting in the park, the sunlight soft on your face. It had been one of those peaceful days—the kind where time moves slowly, and nothing feels too heavy. Stacey was sitting beside you on the bench, her legs tucked under her as she looked at the ducks on the pond.
It was quiet, almost too quiet, and you were content just being there with her.
Then, suddenly, she gasped, her hand flying to her stomach.
“Staks?”
She turned to look at you, her face flushed, wide-eyed with surprise.
“I felt it,” she said, voice trembling.
You didn’t know what she meant at first, the words catching in your mind before they could make sense.
“I felt her kick,” she whispered, placing your hand gently on her stomach.
For a second, you thought maybe you were imagining things, but then it happened.
A soft, tiny nudge under your hand.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It was real.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the world around you seemed to still, like time itself paused to let you both feel it.
Stacey’s eyes met yours, and there was this softness in them, a tenderness that made your chest tighten.
“I felt her,” she repeated, her voice low, as if speaking louder might make the moment slip away.
You didn’t know what to say. The words didn’t seem enough.
“I think I felt her too,” you said quietly, a smile tugging at your lips.
And for a second, you didn’t care that you were in public, surrounded by people. You only cared about this—about this tiny, unexpected moment that connected you both in a way nothing else ever had.
7. "The 'What ifs' Talk"
The kitchen was quiet, the sound of the faucet dripping filling the space between you. You were cleaning up after dinner, the dishes clattering softly as you rinsed them off. Everything was normal—simple. But there was a weight in the air that wasn’t usual. You could feel it, like the silence between you both was a little too heavy tonight.
Then she stopped.
Her hands were still on the plate she was drying, but she wasn’t really looking at it anymore.
“Jho…” She paused, and there was a fragility in her voice that made you stop too.
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper, like she was testing the words to see how they felt. “What if I’m not good at this? What if I can’t do it?”
You didn’t say anything right away. You just walked over to her, standing a little too close, your hands reaching out, almost instinctively.
“You’ll be good at it,” you said, but it didn’t sound as sure as you wanted it to. You wanted to be sure, for her—for both of you—but something about the vulnerability in her eyes made you hesitate.
She let out a quiet breath, and you could feel the weight of her uncertainty.
“I just…” She shook her head, eyes flickering to the side. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
You took her hands in yours, squeezing them softly, like it could stop the world from spinning.
“I don’t think anyone’s ready,” you whispered. “But we’ll figure it out.”
There was a pause, an almost painful silence. And then, softly, she asked, “What if we mess up?”
You kissed her forehead gently, a fleeting moment of comfort.
“We will,” you said, your voice steady now, even though your chest felt tight with the weight of it. “But we’ll fix it. We’ll always fix it. Together.”
Her breath caught, but she smiled, just a little, her shoulders relaxing, and you could feel that tiny, fragile hope blossoming between you both.
“We’ve got this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, but she heard it, and she believed it too.
8. "Baby Shower Prep."
It wasn’t the grand event you thought it would be. The house was filled with voices, laughter, the soft sounds of wrapping paper being torn apart, but there was this stillness inside you—this quiet that wouldn’t go away. Stacey was caught up in the whirlwind of it all, surrounded by people, talking, laughing, organizing, but every now and then you’d catch her glancing over at you, her eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name.
You found yourself in the corner, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her as she chatted with friends. The room was full of excitement, of gifts and pink balloons, and yet Stacey seemed a little too still for everything going on around her.
“I’m not sure about all of this,” she said quietly, standing beside you as if the world had stopped spinning for just a second. “It feels... too big, like I’m not ready for it, like I don’t deserve it.”
You frowned, unsure of how to say what you knew. You reached out, gently pulling her toward you, your hand resting on her arm.
“Mahal, this is real. This is ours. You’re doing this.”
She sighed, looking at the room—at the gifts and cards and all the pink that somehow made the room feel smaller and bigger at the same time.
“I thought I’d be more excited, I thought it would feel more... real.”
You smiled softly, your heart aching a little for her. “It’s real, though. This—” you gestured around at the chaos, the laughter, the endless stream of well-wishes “—this is real.”
She gave you a quiet smile, but there was a flicker of doubt still in her eyes. “It’s just... I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You kissed the top of her head, letting the moment stretch between you both, simple and pure.
“You don’t have to know, Mahal. No one does. But we’re doing it, together.”
And in that moment, you realized she didn’t need to have it all figured out. No one ever did. All you needed was this—this tiny, fragile certainty that you were both walking this path together, no matter how many pink balloons surrounded you.
9. "The First Time You Talk About Your Parenting Styles."
It was late, the house dark except for the soft glow of the kitchen light. The baby shower had just ended, the last of the guests filtering out, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet aftermath.
There was so much to do still—boxes to unpack, baby clothes to organize, but instead, you found yourselves sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by it all, talking.
“I was thinking,” Stacey started, her voice hesitant.
“When the baby gets here, I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I mean... with how we’re going to raise her. You know?”
You nodded, sensing where this was going.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” You glanced at her, unsure of how to approach the conversation. Raising a child wasn’t something you could just figure out on a whim.
There were so many things—so many different opinions—and you were both trying to navigate your own fears and hopes for the future.
“What kind of parents do we want to be?” Stacey asked, looking up at you with wide, searching eyes.
You paused. The weight of the question wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t just about baby bottles or bedtime routines—it was about the kind of people you were going to be, the kind of legacy you wanted to leave.
“I think I want to be the kind of parents who listen,” you said quietly. “I want us to always make space for her—like, really hear her, you know? I don’t want to assume we know what’s best all the time. I want to let her be herself.”
She smiled softly, her hand finding its way to yours.
“That’s what I want, too,” she said, her voice soft, thoughtful. “I want us to be there when she needs us but not try to control everything. I want her to grow up feeling like she can be whoever she is without worrying about disappointing us.”
You both sat there in the soft quiet of the night, just letting the conversation hang between you. And for the first time, you realized that you were already shaping what kind of parents you’d be—not through grand gestures, but through small, quiet decisions like this.
“We’ll make mistakes,” Stacey added quietly. “But we’ll try. We’ll do our best.”
You squeezed her hand, the weight of the future suddenly less daunting.
“We will,” you said, your voice steady. “And that’s all we can do.”
10. "Lastly, The Time of Delivery."
The room felt too small. The walls, too close. You were pacing, your heart in your throat, trying to breathe through the waves of panic that kept crashing over you.
The minutes felt like hours. Stacey had been in labor for what felt like an eternity, but the truth was, you had no real sense of time anymore. You couldn’t keep track. Not when your mind was consumed by what was happening, by the fact that this was it—the moment you had both been waiting for. Your daughter was coming, and you weren’t ready.
You kept glancing at the clock on the wall, but the hands moved too fast, and you felt frozen, anchored in a place where you couldn’t breathe. What if something went wrong? What if you weren’t strong enough to get through this with her?
The nurse finally came to you, her face calm but urgent. “She’s ready,” she said, and just like that, the world snapped into focus.
The uncertainty, the fears—they all rushed to the surface. You had no idea what to expect, no idea what you were about to witness. But you couldn’t think of that now.
You followed her through the sterile, white hallways, your shoes clicking too loudly against the floor, the sound sharp and unnerving. The coldness of the hospital, the clinical smell of it all, threatened to swallow you whole. You were holding on by a thread.
When you stepped into the room, everything fell away. For a moment, it was just the two of you, as it always had been. But it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be. Stacey was lying there, her face flushed, her brow slick with sweat, her body trembling. The contractions were coming harder now, faster. But there was something in her eyes—something fierce, something beautiful. She was stronger than you had ever seen her.
And then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath catching between each word.
“I’m scared,” she said, and you could hear the rawness in her voice, the vulnerability that she had never let anyone see before.
You felt your chest tighten at the sound of it. Because you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear it either. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what was coming.
“I know,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. The fear that you hadn’t even realized was consuming you until that moment was there too, but it didn’t matter now. “I’m scared too.” because it's the truth.
Stacey squeezed your hand back, her fingers trembling. “But we’re going to be okay, right?” she asked, her eyes locking with yours, desperate for reassurance.
You nodded, trying to steady your own racing thoughts. “We are,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “We’re doing this together.”
And just like that, you knew. It wasn’t about being ready, it wasn’t about knowing all the answers. It was about being together.
“Stay with me,” she said, her voice small, but the plea was clear. Her eyes were searching yours for a promise that you couldn’t put into words, but you gave it to her anyway.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, leaning closer, brushing a stray hair from her forehead.
And then, everything changed.
You saw the doctor step in, her calm but confident demeanor cutting through the tension in the room. “It’s time,” she said.
Stacey’s hand tightened around yours as another wave of contractions hit her. She gritted her teeth, her whole body tensing with effort.
“I can’t,” she gasped, her voice raw, her face contorted with pain.
“You can,” you said, your voice steady despite the fear curling in your chest. “You’re so strong, Mahal. You can do this.”
Her eyes met yours again, and in that moment, you saw it—the trust, the desperation, the love that had been there all along. And it hit you, more than anything, that you were in this together. Every single moment.
After what felt like hours, but was only mere minutes, you heard it—a cry. A tiny, fragile sound that cut through the room, slicing through the weight of the silence. Your heart stopped, then started again, faster than ever.
The nurse placed your daughter in Stacey’s arms, her tiny, perfect body swaddled in a blanket, her face red from the journey she’d just begun. You couldn’t breathe for a second. You couldn’t think. All you could do was stare at her—the tiny person who had been part of you both, who had just entered your world.
Stacey looked down at her, her voice breaking as she whispered, “She’s perfect.”
And for the first time, you found the words that had been lost somewhere deep inside you. You leaned forward, brushing your daughter’s cheek with your finger.
“Welcome to the world, Jazz,” you said, your voice thick with tears you didn’t know you were holding back. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Stacey’s eyes were glistening now, as she looked up at you. “She’s ours,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured, the weight of the moment heavy in your chest. “She’s so beautiful and tiny.”
Stacey nodded, a small, tearful smile on her lips. “Yeah,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “Jho she’s really here.”
You kissed her forehead, your hand gently stroking Jazz’s tiny little fingers. And for the first time, you felt your soul settle. The fear, the doubts—they no longer had a hold on you.
“We’re a family now,” you whispered.
Stacey nodded, her voice soft but full of a strength you hadn’t known she had. “We are. And we’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”
You held her, held both of them, the weight of your new world settling in your arms. And in that moment, with Jazz nestled between you, you realized that this was everything.
Everything had already changed. And somehow, you knew you were ready.
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