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“Mama, why is Mummy sick?” A small voice asks over the sound of retching. Dorcas, who had been putting all her attention on Pandora, whips around in surprise. Standing in the bathroom doorway is their daughter, Luna. She has the cutest little furrow in her brow as she watches the scene before her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Dorcas opens her mouth to answer right when Pandora lurches forward again, gagging into the toilet. She quickly focuses back on her wife, smoothing her hair away from her sweaty forehead.
“Not now, love,” Dorcas says distractedly. “Go and finish your breakfast.”
“Is she dying?” Luna asks innocently. Dorcas falters while Pandora, still hunched over the toilet, begins to shake with laughter.
Following the untimely demise of the pet puffskein Luna had received for her third birthday, they had tentatively attempted to explain the concept of death. Being only four, she still doesn’t quite understand it, but the conversation had sparked a natural curiosity that led to her favourite question to ask: Is so-and-so dying?
“No, Mummy is fine,” She says hesitantly after a moment. Pandora starts to laugh even harder, though that is quickly cut short by a groan as her face goes a sickly green.
“Alright, darling?” Dorcas murmurs, gently tucking a stray blonde curl behind her ear. The other woman hums and closes her eyes, leaning her head into her touch.
“Don’t know how you managed this shite for nine months,” Pandora says in a hush, mindful of the little ears in the room.
“Luckily, I had you to keep me sane.”
“Keep you sane for what?” Luna asks, and Dorcas shoots Pandora a conflicted look. They still haven’t told her of the pregnancy, mostly because they can never find the right time. But really, is there ever a right time to tell someone they’re about to get a little sibling? Dorcas isn’t sure.
Sensing her wife’s hesitance, Pandora hums. “Go on, Doe. You can tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Luna asks, her curiosity seemingly never-ending. Dorcas huffs out a fond laugh at the barrage of questions and relaxes.
“C’mere, love,” she says, beckoning her daughter. Luna obediently crawls into her lap, sitting so she is sandwiched between her mothers.
Dorcas smoothes a hand over Luna’s blonde braids, a colour she specifically requested to ‘match with Mummy.’ “You know how before you were born, you were in my tummy?”
“Uh-huh. And your tummy was big and round, like in the picture on the fireplace,” she nods solemnly and Dorcas chuckles.
“That’s right. Well, right now, Mummy has a baby growing in her tummy, just like when you were growing in mine.”
Luna giggles. “Stop lying, Mama. Her tummy isn’t big and round at all.”
“You’re right, you’re so smart,” Pandora says, turning to smack a tired kiss on the top of her head. “That’s because the baby is very small right now. It’s too small to see from the outside.”
Luna leans over to look at her mother’s flat stomach in suspicion.
“There’s really a baby in there?”
“Mhm, and you’re going to have a new little brother or sister.”
“Really? Like Harry and Neela?” she asks, thinking of her friend and his two year old sister.
“Exactly like Harry and Neela.”
She is quiet for a moment as she processes with a small frown. “…If you are sick, then is the baby sick too?
Dorcas hugs her just a bit tighter at that, her heart aching. Luna really is one of the most considerate and thoughtful children she’s ever met, no matter how biassed she may be.
“No, love, don’t worry. The baby isn’t sick and neither is Mummy, she’s just a bit poorly because of the baby.”
“The baby is making her throw up?” Luna frowns, shuffling on her lap. “That’s not very nice. I don’t like this baby.”
Dorcas hides a smile in her daughter’s hair while Pandora stifles a giggle.
“The baby isn’t doing it on purpose, Luna. It happens to everyone with a baby in their tummy.”
Luna seems to think about this for a second before her eyes widen in horror. She whips around to face Dorcas urgently. “Did I make you throw up when I was in your tummy, Mama?”
“Only just a bit,” she lies reassuringly. In truth, her morning sickness had been absolutely atrocious the entire pregnancy. She vividly remembers being unable to keep anything down except crackers and, oddly enough, Dirigible Plums. The toll it took on her is partly the reason that Pandora volunteered to carry their second child, and she couldn’t be more grateful for the wonder that is her wife.
Luna deflates in relief. “Good.”
“Go finish your breakfast, little miss,” she laughs softly. Pandora groans at the mention of food and Dorcas sends her an apologetic look.
“Okay,” Luna sighs, crawling out of her lap. She turns to them before she leaves and says earnestly, “I’m happy you’re not dying, Mummy.”
Pandora lets out a half-hysterical laugh and says, “I’m happy I’m not dying, either. Now, please go so Mummy can throw up in peace.”