Mama again

The hallway smelled like cinnamon and faint antiseptic—the scent of Doc’s home, part warmth, part clinic. Andrea paused by the nursery door, her breath caught somewhere between her ribs. On the other side, she heard the soft murmur of bedtime stories. Joe’s voice.

Anthony’s little giggle followed, higher-pitched now than she remembered, but unmistakably his. A sound that once filled every inch of her chest with light. A sound she had dreamed of and feared she’d forgotten.

She pressed a hand to her swollen belly and knocked, gently.

The door cracked open. Joe’s eyes widened. A complicated kind of shock—equal parts relief, confusion, and maybe even a quiet kind of anger. But he stepped aside wordlessly, and she walked in.

Anthony was on the bed, legs crossed, wearing footie pajamas that looked a little small. His curls were longer now, his face a little less round. He didn’t notice her at first. He was busy poking the stuffed bear she’d left behind months ago.

Then he looked up.

And froze.

For a second, he didn’t speak. His mouth hung open slightly, brow furrowed like he was trying to remember a dream he’d had a long time ago.

“Mama?” he whispered.

Her knees gave out and she dropped to the carpet.

“Yeah, baby,” she choked out. “Mama’s here.”

He stared. Then, without a word, he scrambled off the bed and ran—half stumbling, half flying—straight into her arms.

She caught him, sobbing now, one arm wrapping instinctively around his tiny back, the other around her belly, shielding one child while holding the other.

He buried his face in her neck. His small hands clung to her hair, her sweater, her skin—like if he let go, she might disappear again.

“I missed you,” he said. Over and over. “I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. So, so much,” she whispered through tears, kissing his temple. “I thought about you every single day.”

Anthony leaned back enough to look at her face, tears streaking his cheeks. His small hand reached down, curiously patting her belly.

“Mama… you have a baby?”

She nodded, wiping his cheeks gently. “You’re gonna be a big brother again.”

He blinked. “Is it a girl?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He thought about that for a second. Then said very seriously, “If it’s a girl, we can name her Pancake.”

Andrea let out a soft laugh, one of those breathless, cracked ones that only come when your heart’s been broken and is slowly being sewn back together.

“Pancake it is.”

Joe stepped back silently, closing the door behind him. Giving them space. Giving her grace.

Anthony didn’t let go of her for a long time. And she didn’t ask him to.

 After putting Anthony down for a nap after an emotional reunion, Andy went to see her daughter. She wanted to breastfeed her precious Caterina but her supply dried up while she was on the coast. Andy felt bad that Caterina didn't know he mother but she knew it would take time. Andy left Caterina's room