CHAPTER 15

Fights and all, Kurt and Blaine both loved their sons and loved being parents.  They were ridiculously excited as the boys' first birthday approached.  They threw a huge, elaborate party, which was saved from disaster by the boys' grandmothers, who told the proud dads to have the boys open only a few presents, and deal with the rest later, to prevent them from becoming overwhelmed.  Blaine had, over Kurt's objections, done a bit of research and discovered that Patrick preferred vanilla, but Ian absolutely loved chocolate in all forms.  Therefore, a large cake was baked that was half chocolate and half vanilla, and each of the babies had his own small cake, part of which they ate, and part of which they wore, smearing it over their clothes, in their hair, on their highchairs, and on anything and anyone they could reach.  Everyone thought it was adorable, except Kurt, who was about to have heart failure looking at the mess; however, once Blaine calmed him down, he had to admit the cake-covered boys both looked pretty cute.  That night, after Kurt had cleaned cake and icing from every crevice of the high-chairs and sprayed the clothes they had been wearing down with stain-release and thrown them in the washer, he went to help Blaine bathe the boys.  They had been wiped down after the party, but still really needed a bath.  As Kurt entered the bathroom, Blaine was desperately trying to get chocolate out of Ian's ears.  Patrick had a streak of red in his hair, which was rapidly darkening to the same chestnut-brown as Kurt's.  Kurt left Ian to Blaine and attacked Patrick with shampoo, trying to do away with the improvised punk look.  Half an hour later the boys were clean, dried, dressed, and had their bedtime stories.  Kurt leaned against the crib, watching the boys cuddle together sleepily.  Blaine put his arms around Kurt and nuzzled the back of his neck.  “They're so beautiful,” he murmured quietly.  Kurt nodded his agreement.  “Ready to do it again?”

“What?”  Kurt whispered, afraid of disturbing the boys, but turning in Blaine's arms.

Glancing at the babies to make sure they were close enough to sleep not to protest their fathers' absence, Blaine took Kurt's hand and gently pulled him from the room.

“We said two, and we have two.  We said not too far apart, and they're only forty-five minutes apart.  We don't need to do this again,” Kurt said as soon as the door closed behind him.

“We left it open to more,” Blaine pointed out, “And we said we'd each father a child.”

“But we weren't counting on twins,” Kurt argued.

“You promised me a little you,” Blaine pouted.

“Your plan to get an egg donor who looked like me worked beautifully.  Patrick looks as much if not more like me than he does you.  He was even born with the same shade of blonde hair I had, and Dad said it's darkening at about the same rate mine did.  So we do have a little me already.”  Kurt tried logic.

“It's not the same.  He has my personality.  He's easy-going.  I want a baby with his or her Daddy's personality,” Blaine told him.

“Genetics is no guarantee of personality,” Kurt told him.

“I know.  But –“ Blaine cut himself off.  He was running out of arguments, but he really wanted this, and he wanted it soon.  He wanted his children to be closer, both emotionally and in terms of age, than he and Cooper had been growing up.  At the same time, however, he knew that he couldn't force Kurt to do it, no matter what they'd agreed to before, and he didn't want to; he wanted Kurt to want to do this, for both of them, and for the boys.

They were sitting on the couch in the family room now.  Kurt rubbed the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb.  He really didn't want to do this, but he also really didn't want to hurt Blaine, and he had promised.  It was just the entire process.  He wasn't sure he could deal with it; he wasn't sure how Blaine had been able to do it last time.  It wasn't that he never masturbated; he did, sometimes, but rarely, preferring to involve Blaine if at all possible in any sexual activity he engaged in.  But to not only masturbate, but do so in a cup and then hand the results to a stranger in a medical clinic seemed so humiliating.  And everyone there, staff and patients, would know, or could guess with a high degree of accuracy, exactly why he was there.  And why on earth did almost everyone who worked in those places have to be women?  They were very nice, but still . . . .

Sighing, Kurt dropped his head back against the top of the couch.  “I'm not saying no.  I just, well, I wasn't expecting this right now.  Let me take a few days to try to wrap my head around this, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly, leaning over to kiss Kurt slowly.  Coming back up for air, he said, “I do love you, you know that?”  And he leaned in for another kiss before pulling Kurt to his feet.

As Blaine tugged him to their room, Kurt said, “You do know we're just getting back to being able to do this again, right?  You're willing to give it up?”

Blaine just smiled, and Kurt knew he'd lost.

* * *

This time, finding an egg donor and a surrogate was more difficult.  Both would have been willing to use Macy again, but she had been advised that four pregnancies, involving five children, was quite enough, and she needed to take a break at the very least, if not stop having children all together.  Blaine tried to convince Kurt they could use a tall egg donor, but Kurt would have no part of it, insisting that if this child was tall, it would be due to his DNA, not his or her genetic mother's.  After a frustrating day looking, they agreed to spend two hours, one day a month, looking.  They spent several days looking through books and computer profiles of egg donors and surrogates.  It took nearly a year, but finally they found what they were looking for.

Kurt was listlessly looking through egg donor profiles, while Blaine tried to find a surrogate anywhere near as good as Macy.  New profiles were added all the time, and there were tons to start with, so they hadn't been through all of them.  Each time they went in, they started with the new ones.  After nearly an hour, Blaine said, “Come here, Kurt, I think I found someone.”

“I think I found an egg donor who sounds good, too.  She was just added a couple of weeks ago.”

“Mine too.”

They pulled the profile books together and found themselves looking at identical pages.  The girl in question was petite, just a bit over five feet tall, and the picture she had provided showed a young woman with olive skin and cascades of dark brown, nearly black, curls down her back, and a full-lipped smile that reached her sparkling hazel eyes.  She was divorced with three children, and was in law school; she was volunteering to be an egg donor or a surrogate in order to finance her education.

“Um, wow,” Kurt said, realizing they were both looking at the same profile.  “We need to think about this.  There are reasons they say to use a gestational surrogate and a separate egg donor.”

“I know, but she's perfect,” Blaine argued.

“They say if the surrogate isn't genetically related to the baby she'll be less likely to try to keep it, and the courts are less likely to recognize her claim to the child even if she does try,” Kurt repeated the reasoning they had been told.

“I know, but they used to do it this way all the time, it was the way surrogacy worked in the beginning, before all the assisted reproduction technology.  There are just a few really famous cases that have made headlines and given traditional surrogacy kind of a bad name,” Blaine said.

“Um, I am not having sex with her, if you're arguing for traditional surrogacy, the way some people used to do it before ART,” Kurt told him, “And I don't want to be one more famous case of surrogacy that doesn't work out.”

“Of course not, neither do I,” Blaine answered.  “How about this?  We can meet her, talk to her, get a feel for her like we did with Macy.  Then we can make a decision.”

“Okay,” Kurt said.

* * *

A week later, they were seated in a conference room at the clinic and a tiny young woman was led in by a staff member.  She held out her hand to the two men and said, “Hi, I'm Jessica.”

Kurt and Blaine introduced themselves, and then Kurt said, “So, Jessica, why do you want to be a surrogate?”

“I wish I could give you an altruistic answer like to bring joy to childless couples, but honestly, for the money.  I'm divorced, and I'm in law school.  I got enough in the divorce settlement to pay for two years of law school; unfortunately, it's a three year program.  I'd like to get out without being buried in student loans.  I've had three healthy, uneventful pregnancies, being pregnant has never bothered me, and it seemed like a way I could continue to study, be with my children as much as school permits me to be now, and still make the money I need to pay for my last year.  Once I get out, I can get a job and support my kids the way they deserve, the way things were before the divorce.”

Kurt nodded, appreciating the honesty.  Blaine picked up the questioning.  “So, you have three kids?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  The whole sordid story, if you want to know it, is I started dating a guy in college.  I thought he was the one, so we slept together and weren't as careful as we should have been, and I got pregnant.  I was an English major, since I'd always planned to go to law school and it really doesn't matter much what your major is for law school, and I enjoy writing.  Well, once I got pregnant, we got married in a hurry, and I had my first child when I was twenty-one, just a month after I graduated.  Neither of us thought we could manage to get both of us through law school and raise a baby, so I went to work as a legal secretary, since it's one of the few things you can do with an English degree other than grad school or food service, and put him through law school and raised our daughter.  When I was twenty-three, I had my first son, and my second at twenty-five.  Two years ago, when I was twenty-seven, my ex decided he wasn't cut out for marriage, at least not to me, or fatherhood.  So, we got divorced, and the rest is history.”

“Wow,” Blaine said, not really sure what else to say.

“Sorry,” Jessica apologized.  “I guess that was more than you really wanted to know.”

“No, that's okay,” Kurt told her.  “It helps us understand your motivations.  So, if you had to pick one, would you be a surrogate or an egg donor?”  He still had his heart set on using her as an egg donor, even more so now that he had seen her and talked to her.  She looked enough like Blaine to be his sister, and she was clearly intelligent.

“A surrogate, because it pays more.  Honestly, I've got to get the money for school, so I have to look at the bottom line, but I wouldn't mind doing either or both.”

Blaine thought carefully about how to phrase his next question.  He knew Kurt really wanted her to donate the egg for their baby, but he didn't want them to have to go through the heartbreak of a legal battle over their child.  “Do you think if you carried a child who was genetically yours as a surrogate you would have trouble giving the baby to the prospective parents?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “No.  In my mind any baby I carry from now on is someone else's.  I couldn't afford another child even if I wanted one, and I really don't.  After three, I'm done.  I don't regret any of my children, but I don't want any more.”

Both men nodded, but Kurt had one more question.  He reached for Blaine's hand and intertwined their fingers.  He looked from their linked hands to Jessica's face, then said, “How do you feel about gay couples?  How will you feel about giving the child you carry to a gay couple?”

She smiled.  “Love is love.  It doesn't matter if you're talking about a man and a woman, two women, or two men.”

The men smiled back at her.  They went on to discuss access during the pregnancy, and then wrapped the meeting up.  “Thanks so much for meeting with us.  We'll be in touch,” Blaine told her.  She took that as her cue, standing up and bidding them goodbye.

After she left, Kurt turned to Blaine and said, “Well?”  His eyes were shining and he was practically bouncing up and down.

Blaine laughed and said, “Okay, you win.  We'll use her as both the surrogate and egg donor.  I think when it's the same person they do a direct insemination instead of an egg retrieval, so it might end up being cheaper for us while still more money for her, so everyone wins.”

They had to endure one more meeting with the counselors at the clinic and another one with their attorney, both to discuss the potential pitfalls with using the same person as a surrogate and an egg donor.  Blaine listened, but Kurt tuned them out; he just had a good feeling about this girl.

They decided to try to time the birth in December or January.  The boys would be three then.  It had the added advantage of working out, time-wise, for Jessica; if they were lucky, the baby would be born after her finals were over for the fall semester of her second year, and before the spring semester began.  She would also receive her final payment well before payment for her final year was due.  They laughed when they found themselves in the same place they had been almost exactly three years before, waiting with their surrogate in the clinic waiting room.  Kurt began to pace after they called Jessica back to prep her. 

“Is it normal to be this nervous every time?”  He mused out loud.

Blaine took his hand and pulled him back down onto the couch.  “Probably.  Now calm down.  Everything's going to be fine.”

A few minutes later they were back in the ultrasound room, where the tech was showing them their baby, and pointing out its heartbeat.  She continued to stare at the monitor, taking measurements and entering them into her computer; she wasn't talking to them anymore.  “Is something wrong?”  Kurt asked.  The tech hadn't done this with the boys.

“Probably not,” she answered.  “I'm just going to have the doctor come in and take a look.”  She left the room, and the three remaining occupants grew quiet.

After a minute, Blaine tried to break the tension.  “The baby looked fine, just like the boys did, and the heartbeat looked great.  Everything's going to be alright.”  Kurt just stared at him.  That was easy for him to say; his genetic children were perfect, just like he was.  It was only Kurt's child that had something wrong with it.

The doctor came in a few moments later and repeated the ultrasound.  She took measurements and entered them into the computer, comparing them to the ones the tech had taken.  Finally she sighed a bit and turned to Kurt, Blaine and Jessica.  “Well, the baby's development is exactly what we'd expect, given the date we did the insemination.”

“I would hope so,” Jessica said, “Since my most intimate relationship these days is with my Contracts case book.”

The doctor continued, “The reason we're a little concerned is that while all development seems to be right on track, the baby's small.  Noticeably small, given the gestational age.  Usually we release surrogates to the OB they have agreed upon with the couple after this ultrasound, but we'd like to see you again in a couple of weeks, just to check and see how the baby is developing.  After that, if everything looks good, we'll release you.  However, we will want you to see a perinatologist during your pregnancy, as well as a normal OB.  Jessica and Kurt, do you know how big you were when you were born?  And Jessica, how big were your other babies?”

Jessica and Kurt glanced at each other.  “I was just under six pounds, five pounds fifteen ounces,” Kurt told her.

Jessica said, “I was six and a half pounds, and my babies have ranged from six pounds, nine ounces to seven pounds, twelve ounces.”

The doctor looked a little relieved.  “You were both a bit on the small side, and Jessica, your babies have ranged from a little on the small side of average to average.  The baby seems to be developing perfectly, and so I'm hopeful it's just genetics; you two may just be preprogrammed to produce smaller babies.”  She spent a few more minutes trying to reassure them, then left. 

Kurt reached out and squeezed Jessica's hand, then took Blaine's and left her to get dressed.  They were quiet while they waited and then scheduled the next appointment once Jessica rejoined them.  They told her goodbye and headed home.  They had a couple of hours before they had to go to their respective theaters for work, and they wanted to see the boys.

They took the boys to Central Park, allowing them to run and play.  They lagged behind and talked while they kept an eye on their sons.  “What if something's really wrong?”  Kurt finally asked.

“Then we'll deal with it.  We can handle whatever it is,” Blaine tried to reassure him.

“This is my fault.  Either my faulty genes or else Jessica's, and I'm the one who was so set on using her,” Kurt insisted.

“And I agreed to use her, because she was the right choice.  We used the same criteria as last time.  And there's nothing wrong with you, or your genes.  Whatever is meant to be, is going to be.  We just have to prepare ourselves the best we can,” Blaine said.  He was just as unsettled as Kurt was, but he understood that if he didn't remain calm, Kurt's worry would quickly spiral into an uncontrollable panic, so he had to remain calm for Kurt.  Panicking wouldn't help either of them, the boys, or the baby.

“Maybe our last child will just be small; it wouldn't be so bad to have a kid who's short,” Kurt said.  Both of the boys were in the ninetieth percentile for height.

“It's not the end of the world,” Blaine agreed.  “Take it from someone who knows.  But birth weight isn't necessarily related to height.”

“Really?”  Kurt wasn't really sure of anything they were saying.

“Yeah.  Were you serious when you said you weighed under six pounds at birth?”

“Um, yeah.  Why?”

“Because speaking as your husband, who outweighed you by quite a bit at birth and is still a little more than two and a half inches shorter than you, I promise they aren't related.  Were you born early?”

“About a week.  How much did you weigh?”

“Eight pounds, fourteen and a half ounces, and I was two weeks early.”

“Oh, my God, Blaine!  How?  Your mom's tiny.”

“The miracle of birth?  Honestly, apparently my birth wasn't particularly easy, and my mom said she knew it was true love because she didn't hate me afterwards, and those were the only two options after the experience.”  Kurt smiled, and for the first time since the appointment, Blaine felt truly sure that whatever happened, everything would be okay.

* * *

Two weeks later they were back at the clinic, nervously watching the ultrasound monitor.  The doctor was doing this ultrasound, taking careful measurements.  It took a long time, and Jessica looked uncomfortable, but silently endured the procedure.  Finally, the doctor sighed and looked at the trio.  “Well, your little one's development is perfect, right on track, but it's still small.  We're going to want to keep a close eye on it, make sure its development continues and doesn't stop or stall.  Make an appointment to see the perinatologist before you leave here, and your normal OB as well.  I'll get in touch with them and send your records, let them know our concerns, and we'll work together to follow you.”

As they left, Kurt said, “I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried at this point.”

“Well, she said the baby's development is perfect, and they're really only concerned about its size, so I'd say let's be relieved for a bit and then just look forward to our new baby.  I'd say we need to start talking to the boys about it in another month or so.”  Blaine said.

“They're concerned about size and whether or not development continues to stay on pace,” Kurt countered.

“Yes, but so far it is on track, so let's not worry about problems we don't have yet,” Blaine told him.  Kurt sighed, and wished he could just stop worrying.

* * *

Either Kurt or Blaine or both attended each of Jessica's appointments with her.  Each appointment showed the same thing:  their baby was small enough to cause concern, but not true worry, especially given the fact that its development continued to be exactly what it should be.  They were in the perinatologist's office that summer waiting for a fourteen week check-up; because of the concerns regarding the baby's size, Jessica was being followed much more closely than Macy had been, and she had a lot more appointments. 

They were discussing childbirth classes.  Since Jessica wasn't married, and her best friend was going to watch her children while she was giving birth to Kurt and Blaine's, they were going to act as her coaches.  They had signed up for childbirth classes, which she joked were only for them, as this was her fourth time to give birth, and she had a pretty good idea what she was supposed to do, no matter how clueless they were; she told them they needed to go just so she didn't have to coach them through coaching her.  They had selected a two-month course that met each Sunday evening; the course directors suggested parents start during the end of the second trimester and end in the third, so they would start when Jessica was twenty-four weeks along, ending two months before the baby's due date.  Kurt joked that with an extra eight weeks to plan, they would be ready for anything by the time it arrived.

Soon they were called back to the ultrasound room.  The perinatologist did the ultrasounds herself, rather than having a nurse or a tech do it the way the normal OB did.  She took the usual measurements, entered them, and compared them to the last ones.  “Well,” she began, “Same story as last time.  Your little one is lagging behind on size, but everything else is developing perfectly normally.”

Suddenly, something occurred to Kurt.  “Does that mean he or she will always be small?”

“Not necessarily,” She told him, “But the possibility does exist.”

“How small?”  Blaine asked.

“Hard to tell at this point.  Kurt is within normal range on height, Jessica is petite.  There's no reason to think the baby will be shorter than Jessica, but I'd be surprised if it was as tall as Kurt.”  The doctor told them.  Both men thought quietly.  Jessica was five foot one.  If the baby was a girl that would be short, but not too bad; it was only an inch shorter than Rachel, and neither of them really registered that she was a bit short anymore.  However, for a boy that could result in quite a bit of teasing.  As if she was reading their minds, the doctor went on to ask, “Did you want to know the baby's gender?”

“Isn't it too early to tell?”  Kurt inquired.

“Nope.  You need a good ultrasound machine, and mine's the best, and a cooperative baby, and yours is being very cooperative at the moment.”

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.  “Yes,” Blaine breathed as Kurt nodded.

“You have a beautiful little girl.”

The two men exchanged a glance before Kurt dissolved into laughter.  “Oh, my God, my mother is never going to let us hear the end of this!”  Blaine exclaimed.

Jessica and the doctor stared at them for a moment as if they had lost their minds before a giggling Kurt gave them an abbreviated version of the “Anderson men can't have girls” story, complete with twin boys to prove the theory.  Blaine just blushed and tried to pretend he wasn't there.

* * *

No one expected them to know the baby's sex yet, so they decided to keep it to themselves for a few days.  As they sat on the couch after getting the boys to bed, they let it sink in.  “Wow.  A girl,” Blaine said.

“Baby, I love you, but you've said that about a hundred times today,” Kurt told him.

“I know, but, Sweetheart, we're going to have a little girl!”

“Yep.  Clued into that one already.”

“You do know my family is going to go crazy, right?”  Blaine said.

“Um, would this be the same family that sent so much stuff for the boys I thought we were going to have to get a second apartment just to hold it all?  The one that not only sent enough stuff to fully equip our house for two babies and then some, but both grandparents' homes as well?  Crazier than that?”  Kurt wanted to know.

“Yeah, that's the one,” Blaine confirmed.  “You know how between us being gay and both of us being involved in theater and no one wanting to stereotype or force the boys to be a particular way we got a lot of gender neutral colors and toys?”  Kurt nodded; Blaine's family's support and acceptance of Blaine himself and of the two of them as a couple was wonderful, even if it had not been immediate when he came out as a teenager, and Kurt was eternally grateful for it.  “Well, expect to get pink this time around.  A lot of pink.  And dolls, and kitchens, and every stereotypical girl toy you can think of.”

“We don't need that stuff,” Kurt pointed out.  “Because so much of the boys' stuff was neutral, and we have so much of it, we can just use their stuff.  I mean Finn and Quinn had Samantha the year after we had the boys, and now she's expecting again, and Finn says he doesn't care if the baby is a boy, he'll wear Sam's old stuff even if it is pink because they already have it.”  Quinn's second child with Finn was due two months before their baby, and they had recently called with the news that she was expecting a boy this time.  “Maybe we can do an exchange, pink for blue?”

Blaine kissed him gently.  “I know we don't need it.  If they stopped celebrating long enough to think about it, they'd know it too.  But they won't, and even if they did, they'd send stuff anyway.  Be prepared.  They're going to go crazy.”

* * *

A week passed before they could no longer keep the news to themselves.  First they told the boys, explaining that since it takes a lady's tummy for a baby to grow inside, a nice lady agreed to let Daddy and Papa's new baby grow in her tummy until it was ready to come out, and that right now their baby sister was in that nice lady's tummy, growing until she was big enough to come out and join them.  They decided to let the boys tell their grandparents. 

“Grandpa, Grandma, we're gonna get a baby sisser!”  Ian shouted into the speaker of Kurt's phone.

“A girl?  How nice!”  Carole said, while Burt called his congratulations into the phone.

Looking a bit disgruntled, Patrick corrected Carole.  “Not a girl, a sister,” he insisted, enunciating very carefully, as if his brother's mispronunciation of the word had caused his grandmother's confusion.

Burt laughed, “I love spoiling my girls!”

“Dad,” Kurt said, “Don't spoil her.  Treat her like all the other grandkids.”

“He will,” Carole promised.  “It's just that somehow the girls seem able to wrap him around their little fingers and push all his buttons so he dances to their tune.”

“Hmph.  Too bad I never learned that trick,” Kurt grumbled playfully.

“As if you couldn't always do that,” She laughed.

Next they called Blaine's parents.  Kurt told a very indignant Ian it was Patrick's turn to share the news.  Never one for taking turns, Ian pouted, convinced that turns had nothing to do with it, and that he had somehow done something wrong when he told Grandma and Grandpa and was now being punished.  Always calmer, Patrick informed his Nana and Poppy by saying, “We have a new baby sister and she's growing in a nice lady's tummy until she's big enough to play with us.”

“Oh, Lord, if she's there that long Jess is going to kill me,” Kurt muttered, prompting Blaine to laugh.

“Kurt, what did I tell you?  I was right, wasn't I?”  Margaret Anderson crowed.

“Yes, Mom, you were right,” Blaine sighed, as Kurt laughed.  “Although I still maintain that it is not a genetic impossibility for me to father a girl.”  Kurt laughed harder as he heard Margaret's harrumph through the phone.

Richard Anderson said, “Congratulations, Sons.  Everyone's going to be thrilled.  Do you want us to tell everyone, or do you want to spread this momentous bit of news yourself?  Think fast, because if you want to tell everyone yourself, I think I'm going to have to physically restrain your mother, and I'm going to have to do it within the next thirty seconds or so.”

“Let Mom have her fun,” Blaine told him.  It was less work for them.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, until Kurt and Blaine had to leave for the theater, calling friends.  Anyone they would see at the theater they told there.  The only mishap was that somehow, they forgot to call Rachel, who heard from a mutual friend.  By the time both men checked their phones at intermission, they had each received several angry texts and voice mails from her.  Calling Kurt, Blaine said, “Babe, we forgot to call Rachel.  I guess we screwed up.”

Kurt's voice grew a little hard as he said, “Oh, you mean like she did when she ‘forgot' to tell anyone she was pregnant, not once, but twice, because it might jeopardize her career?  Or when she tried to abort my niece to get a part?”  Kurt could forgive a lot, but as it turned out, this was one thing he couldn't forgive, no matter how much he tried.  Even Finn had managed to move past it, although he would still never let Rachel around the children, but Kurt couldn't.  At the end of the day, family meant everything to him, more than designing or performing, more than success, more than anything.  He still couldn't fathom how his best friend could put her career in front of the man she supposedly loved, her best friend, and most of all, her children, and still expect everyone to carry on as if she hung the moon.  He was definitely not in the mood to call her back and try to soothe her bruised ego.

* * *

Because Kurt insisted they had enough baby clothes and gear to stock their own baby store, there would be no shower this time.  It did not, however, stop the flow of baby gifts, which started as a trickle when it began a few days after the announcement that they were having a girl, and quickly escalated to a flood.  To help deal with the influx, they packed up the clear ‘boy' items like onesies proclaiming the wearer to be “Daddy's Boy” and shipped them to Quinn.  A few days later, Kurt found himself signing for a large box from her, which, when opened, revealed two years' worth of baby and toddler clothes in pink, yellow and lavender, adorned with ruffles and bows.

He called Quinn to thank her, but said, “Really, while I appreciate it, we don't need it.”

“Yeah, well, news flash, my dear brother-in-law, your apartment is as big as my house, and I'm having my fourth.  Well, third that I'm giving birth to, if you count Beth, but fourth kid to live with me and what that boils down to is we have less room per person than you and you can't return the stuff unless we have a girl.”

“I thought you were having a boy?”  Kurt was confused.

“This time.  We haven't ruled out one or two more,” Quinn explained.  “Hey, right now I'm only beating you two with Rachel's help.  I have to at least tie you.”  Kurt just laughed.  He would be worried if he didn't know Quinn loved Stephen and Carole Ann just as much as if they were her own, and treated them as if they were; Rachel had given up all rights to them, and Quinn's adoption of them had been finalized two months before Samantha's birth.

* * *

As more and more things arrived for the new baby, and preparations continued to be made, Kurt and Blaine found it interesting to see how their sons reacted to different things.  The differences they had noticed between the two from an early age seemed more pronounced.  Patrick was fascinated by the colors and textures of everything that arrived.  The way things looked and felt always entranced him.  After seeing something new, he always tried to draw it, digging through his enormous collection of crayons, markers and colored pencils to find the one that was the closest in color.  The fact that things so many things for his new sister were pink, as opposed to the primary colors he and his brother had (Kurt didn't want to force them to wear stereotypically boy colors, but without making them himself, boys' clothes were easier to find in primary colors, and he had to admit they were easier clean and stains showed less), was a never ending source of curiosity for him, leading him to examine the contrasts between the colors for minutes on end, a long time for something to hold a toddler's attention.  Ian, on the other hand, didn't care about the new things unless they made noise.  Sound fascinated him the way color and texture did his brother.  He was drawn to instruments, and the grand piano Kurt had bought Blaine to celebrate their first anniversary in the apartment was his favorite plaything; he would try to pick out tunes he heard his fathers singing.  Therefore, the clothes that arrived were utterly boring for him, but any toy that made noise, or could make noise when combined with something else (smacked against the furniture, for example), led him on a search for a way to duplicate the sound.  It was nothing they had not noticed before, but it amused Kurt and Blaine to see how it continued in response to the baby's things.

It was clear that while both boys could see and hear perfectly, Patrick was more interested in the way things looked, while Ian cared how they sounded.  When the boys had just turned one, they had taken them to a children's matinee performance of The Nutcracker.  Patrick had loved watching the dancers, and afterwards, was drawn to pictures and books depicting ballet dancers.  Ian, on the other hand, had to be physically restrained from crawling into the orchestra pit.  The following autumn, they were both entranced by the falling leaves in the park, Patrick by how they looked, Ian by how they sounded under his feet.  When Kurt was gone for the Fashion Weeks twice a year, Patrick could be soothed by keeping a picture of Kurt nearby; Ian, however, had to hear Kurt, which had resulted in Kurt recording himself singing and telling the boys goodnight after several phone calls at odd hours to soothe a sobbing Ian who had wanted both Papa and Daddy.  Given the differences between the boys, who shared the same genetic parents, Kurt and Blaine were becoming increasingly curious to meet their new little girl, and find out what she would be like, especially since she would have different genetic parents.

* * *

As his writing and directing picked up, Blaine found he enjoyed them even more than performing.  He was still in high demand as a performer, but found it harder and harder to balance performing with writing and directing and his family life.  Shortly after they saw their daughter's heartbeat for the first time, he had a long talk with Kurt.  They decided he would continue to write and direct, but perform in only one play per year, taking limited engagements of no more than six months.  If the play continued longer, that was fine, but it would do so without him.  Financially, it wasn't a problem, as he was actually making more writing and directing, and KHA designs was making more than enough money for them to live on.  Making the decision had been hugely stressful for both he and Kurt, who was worried that he would miss performing too much; although it was clear that Blaine was stretched too thin, Kurt didn't want to force him into a decision one way or another.  However, once it was made, Blaine found he was more relaxed than he had been in years. 

Kurt, on the other hand, continued to go full speed ahead, to the point that Blaine worried about him.  To make things worse, he had started getting calls at odd hours, thanks to Rachel.  While she was usually working, she wasn't always the star, and had gained a bad reputation for quitting shows for bigger or better parts, many of which didn't pan out, leading her to turn up at her previous theater expecting to be rehired.  As a result, many shows were skittish about hiring her at all, and she was beginning to work less.  She had recently decided she should try her hand at television and film work, where she might be more appreciated.  Since Artie and Kitty, who were now married, were working in Los Angeles, as was Cooper, with whom she somehow thought she had a connection, and Puck and Lauren were there because Lauren got a job doing some sort of computerized wizardry with a company that did movie post-production work, and while Puck could write anywhere, it helped to be in L.A. to talk to people, she felt she had a lot of connections there.  However, she wasn't going to leave without some leads, and none of her “connections” had come through for her yet, so she had been trying to curry favor with any celebrities she could spot who came to see whatever show she happened to be in at the time.  One of the few things she had that gave her clout was the fact that she was friends with Kurt and Blaine, and she had apparently taken to telling people she thought could help her get ahead that she could give them an edge getting a part in one of Blaine's plays or that through her they could get a KHA original gown.  Most of them seemed to not be interested in the offer of a part on Broadway, or not think she had that much pull, a reasonable assumption since she had yet to star in one of Blaine's shows herself.  However, the chance to get Kurt's personal phone number and a chance to wear one of his stunning original gowns, designed just for them, proved to be too much for several starlets to resist.  The result was a number of late night and early morning calls for Kurt from spoiled, entitled actresses who often reminded Kurt of Rachel at her worst, demanding an original gown custom designed for them.  After one such call from an up and coming starlet who was not only apparently spoiled, entitled, demanding, and rude, but drunk or high or both as well awoke them at four a.m., Blaine was finally able to convince Kurt to change his number.  The new number was on a need to know basis, and everyone who did need to know was also told why the number was changed, so as a result Rachel was unable to get it until Kurt gave in a few months later, warning her that if the new number was distributed as the old one had been and he had to change it again, she would be able to contact him only through his assistant at KHA designs.  Although that stopped the frustrating late night phone calls, Blaine remained concerned.

One sunny October day shortly after Kurt had returned from the fall Fashion Week shows Blaine casually told him over lunch with the boys, “I've decided not to choreograph the new show.”

“Ian, please eat your chicken.  Daddy cut it into little bites for you, and you need to eat it, not just carrots.  Patrick, you can't just eat green beans.  I know they're good and they're fun to eat with your hands, but you need chicken too.”  Kurt was preoccupied trying to get the boys to eat.  It was always hard when he came back to get them eating real food again; he knew Blaine relied a lot on take-out and sandwiches, since his cooking skills were limited.  Kurt made a mental note to see if maybe he could get Blaine to take a cooking class since he'd cut back on work, not so he'd do more when Kurt was home, but so he and the boys might eat better when Kurt was gone.  Suddenly what Blaine had said sunk in.  “Wait, what?  Are you just going to let everyone do their own thing?  They'll run into each other.”

“I didn't say it wasn't going to be choreographed, I just said I wasn't going to do it.  We're just starting casting calls next week, there's no way we'll be close to ready to open when the baby gets here, and I don't want to worry about it.  I decided to ask one of our friends to do it.”  Blaine told him.

“Oh, Adam?”

“No, Adam isn't ready.  He says he wants more, but he's too unsure of himself.”

“Yeah.  I think he thought Adam's Apples in college would take off more and be a bigger thing than it turned out to be, and the mismatch between his dreams and reality kind of threw him.  He was more confident when I first met him.  The pavement pounding and off-off-Broadway work didn't really help either.  I think he just thought he'd be more successful by now, and the fact that he isn't has caused him to doubt himself.  I was hoping the boyfriend would help.”  Adam had been dating a guy for a few years now, and they seemed serious, but at the same time seemed in no hurry to make any formal commitments.

“I think he has.  It'll just take time,” Blaine said.  “I was thinking the guy with the studio, the one who hired Brittany.”

“Mmm.  Okay,” Kurt didn't know him well, but he'd always been friendly, in a purely platonic way, to both of them, and helpful.

What Kurt didn't realize was that while Blaine was telling the truth, there was more to it.  He wanted Kurt to see that stepping back a little didn't mean giving up everything.  He was worried Kurt would, despite his rigorously healthy diet and exercise habits, end up having a heart attack just like his father had, possibly even younger.  He didn't think he could survive losing Kurt, especially not now, not with the children.

* * *

Kurt was reviewing possible audition choices, deciding which to try for and which to forego when his phone rang.  Grabbing it, he saw it was Jessica, and answered cheerfully.  “Hey, Jess.  What's up?”  The call was unexpected, because they had just had an appointment with the doctor that morning.  The only concern, other than the baby's size, had been that Jessica's blood pressure had been a little high, but it had dropped to well within the normal range as soon as she spent a couple of minutes lying down.  The baby was due in about six weeks, on December seventeenth.  It was the fourth of November, and the doctor was seeing her every week now, starting this week.  “Did next week's appointment time change?”  He began to reach for a pad to take down the new information.

“Kurt, I feel really weird.  I don't know how else to describe it.  Nothing hurts, nothing feels really bad, I just feel weird and like something's wrong.  I've never felt like this before, not with any of my other babies,” she told him.

Kurt got an icy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.  “Jess, you need to call the doctor, right now,” he said, trying hard to stay calm.

“I already did.  She said she can't diagnose weird over the phone, and she told me to go in to labor and delivery and let them check me out.”

“Why the hospital?  Why not her office?”  Kurt was starting to panic now. 

“Probably because her office closes in ten minutes,” Jessica told him logically.  “Kurt, I'm scared.  I'm sorry, but could you or Blaine meet me there?  I'm on my way.”

“I'm on the way,” he said, grabbing his keys.  Because he wasn't in a show right now, he had given Katie some vacation time, and had let Alyssa go early to get ready for an important gig; someone from a record company was coming to hear her tonight.  He bundled the boys up as quickly as he could, calling Santana as he hailed a cab.  He dropped them at her apartment; she would be leaving for work shortly, but Brittany would be home, and the boys would enjoy playing with Brianna, their younger daughter, and ignoring Amelia as she tried to boss all three of the younger kids around. 

Once he dropped the boys off and made it back to the waiting cab, he called Blaine.  There was no answer; Blaine was in the first days of rehearsal, and usually kept his phone off, often leaving it in his bag so it wasn't even with him.  “Baby, I'm on the way to the hospital.  Jess just called.  Something's wrong.  Come as soon as you can.”  He left the voice mail and prayed Blaine would check his phone soon.

The hospital they had chosen was actually closer to Kurt and Blaine's apartment than Jessica's, and traffic was bad.  Although Kurt left after Jessica and had taken the time to drop the boys off, he got out of the cab just in time to see her step slowly out of the cab in front of him.  He ran up and gave her a quick hug, saying, “How do you feel?  Any changes?  Let's get you upstairs.”  She answered his questions with a shrug and a shake of her head, and let him lead her, his hand on the small of her back, into the building. 

They were directed to the nursing desk on the labor and delivery floor.  A nurse smiled and introduced herself, telling them Jessica's doctor had called and told them to expect her, and had ordered a few tests.  They were led to a private room, where the nurse asked Jessica if she would like to change into a hospital gown before they began.

“Do I have to?”

“No, it just might be more comfortable,” the nurse replied.

“Then I think I'll stick with what I'm wearing.  Hospital gowns really never struck me as being comfy, and they don't make much of a fashion statement.  Hopefully I won't even be here all that long.”  Kurt had to laugh at Jessica's statement.  He really was liking her more and more as he got to know her better.

“Well, then, let's get started,” the nurse replied cheerfully.  She placed a blood pressure cuff on Jessica's arm and took her blood pressure, frowning at the result.  “Let me go get another cuff.  I think something might be wrong with this one.”  She returned with another cuff, and repeated the test.  Her frown grew as she said, “Your blood pressure is pretty high.  Have you been having trouble with it?”

“How high?”  Kurt asked.

“One-forty over one-ten,” the nurse told him.

“Um, wow.  It's been a little high at a couple of doctor's visits, but as soon as I lie down for a few minutes it's back down to normal,” Jessica told her.

“Well, we'll have you lie down in a moment.  First, go into the bathroom; there are cups in there, leave a urine sample for me on the shelf.”

Jessica did as she was told.  While she was gone, the nurse turned to Kurt.  “Has your doctor been checking her urine?”

Kurt nodded.  “Every visit.  She's always told us the results were normal.”  The nurse raised her eyebrows, but said no more.

When Jessica emerged, the nurse said, “Okay, go ahead and lie down.”  As Kurt helped Jessica into the bed, which was a little high for her, the nurse rolled over fetal monitor.  “We're just going to see how the baby's doing,” she told them.  She pushed Jessica's shirt up and attached the machine's belt around her swollen abdomen.  She turned the machine on, and a jagged line appeared on a screen.  The machine began to spit a paper strip, with marks on it that echoed what had appeared on the screen.  She watched the screen for a few minutes.  “Well, the baby looks like she's doing fine.  I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you,” she told Jessica.  She collected the sample from the bathroom and left.

Kurt had texted Blaine the room number while Jessica was in the bathroom, and he burst into the room a few minutes after the nurse had left, looking completely panicked.  Kurt grabbed his hands and squeezed them.  One of them needed to stay calm, and Kurt was over his initial panic, although he was still worried.  “Jessica felt odd this afternoon.  The doctor told her to come in.  So far all we know is that her blood pressure is really high, but the baby looks good.” 

Blaine ran his hands through his hair.  “What do we do?”

“Right now, nothing.  We're here, the doctors will decide what to do.”

Blaine turned to Jessica, “How do you feel now?”

“Still weird.  I can't even describe it any other way.  I should be more articulate, I'm in law school for God's sake, but that's the best description I can come up with.”

The nurse returned before they could continue their conversation.  “Let's take your blood pressure again,” she said.  Kurt wasn't sure what the difference would be, since it had been only fifteen minutes since the last time she took it, but he wasn't going to argue.  She once again placed the cuff around Jessica's arm.  After taking the reading she looked at the cuff in disbelief, then repeated the test again.  “One-twenty over eighty-five.  Normal,” she told them.  “Your urine sample was completely normal too, which is strange; with your blood pressure as high as it was, we'd expect to see protein in your urine.”  Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, then at Jessica; this wasn't sounding good.  “Because your blood pressure was so high before, your doctor ordered some blood tests.  Someone will be in soon to take the samples.”  She checked the strip the machine was spitting out and left.

Kurt and Blaine tried to make conversation with Jessica, but everyone was tense and worried.  They eventually turned on the television and pretended to watch it, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts.  The phlebotomist came and left, and the nurse came in every so often to check the monitor.  Eventually it was a new nurse; Kurt realized with a start that if the shift change had occurred, they must have been here for several hours.  Jessica had called to check on her children; Blaine did the same, laughingly reporting that Amelia had declared Brianna and the boys ‘babies' and refused to play with them when they refused to take orders from her.  Kurt mused that maybe she was more like Rachel than Santana, despite having no genetic connection and having met Rachel only a few times.  Apparently, Brittany had put all four kids to bed, since she wasn't sure when Kurt and Blaine would be back, and told them that whatever happened they should just let the boys spend the night.  Kurt sighed, thankful.  If someone had told him back in high school that Santana and Brittany would be his best friends, he would have suggested they lay off the drugs, but now he couldn't imagine life without their help and support.

Jessica was dozing when their doctor came in at nearly midnight.  Kurt shook her awake gently.  “Well, we still don't have the results of the blood tests,” the doctor told them.  “You can either go home and sleep in your own bed, or you can stay here.  Any thoughts?”

Jessica looked at Kurt, silently asking him.  “I think we'd better be safe than sorry.  Why don't you stay here?”  He suggested.  “We'll stay with you.”

She nodded, and reached for her phone to let her friend, who was watching her children, know she wouldn't be coming home that night.  The nurse brought her a gown, and she settled down to try to go back to sleep. 

Kurt and Blaine were dozing, Kurt in a chair and Blaine on a couch under the window, and Jessica was sleeping, when all of a sudden two nurses and a midwife bustled into the room.  Kurt woke up, looking confused.  The nurses began hanging bags from an I.V. pole, and their doctor came in a few moments later, as a nurse started Jessica's I.V.  “What's going on?”  Kurt and Jessica asked almost in unison.

“We got your test results back,” the doctor told Jessica.  “Your liver enzymes are abnormal; you are in the early stages of liver failure.  Your platelets are also very, very low.”

“How low?”  Kurt asked.

“To put it into perspective, a healthy man, like you, should have a platelet count over four hundred, a woman who isn't pregnant over three hundred, a pregnant woman's should be over two hundred.  Jessica's platelet count is one hundred three, about half what it should be.  We really haven't seen any definite indicators of pre-eclampsia, but she's well on her way to full blown toxemia.”[1]

“How?  How did this happen?”  Kurt asked.

“We don't really know what causes it.  We know some women are at higher risk than others, but Jessica didn't have any of the risk factors, and really didn't show any signs until today.  The only warning sign was two episodes of slightly high blood pressure, but it went down quickly and she had no other signs, so it's kind of surprising, but it happens that way sometimes.”

By this time Blaine was awake and had come to stand next to Kurt, who was standing as close to Jessica's bedside as he could without getting into the nurses' way, wrapping a comforting arm around his husband.  “What do we do about it?”  He asked quietly.  He knew if he panicked now, Kurt would too; he could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“We deliver.  Now.”  The doctor told him, in a tone that left no room for argument.

That, however, did not stop Kurt from trying.  “It's too early.  We still have six weeks left.”

“Your baby will be okay.  We have an excellent NICU here.  We're giving Jessica medication now that will induce labor,” the doctor said.

“But . . .” Kurt tried to protest.  Blaine could tell he was close to tears.

“We have to do this.  Jessica's life is in danger,” She said quietly.

Blaine drew him to the side.  “Baby, I know you're scared, but we have to pull it together.  We have to be there for Jessica; she's got to be scared too.  And we need to stay calm for our little girl; when she gets here there may be decisions that need to be made, and we have to be ready.”  He wiped the tears that were beginning to escape Kurt's eyes with his thumb and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.  Squeezing his hands, he said, “Okay, are you ready for this?  We're about to have a baby.”  Kurt nodded.

They turned back to the doctor.  “What do we do?”  Blaine asked.

“The drugs will take some time to work.  We've given Jessica a medication to soften her cervix.  We'll let that work for a few hours.  She may be cramping some from that, but overall, it shouldn't be too bad.  We've also started I.V. fluids, and in a few hours we'll give her Pitocin to start her labor.  Until that happens, I would suggest you sleep as much as you can.”  The doctor told them.

The men nodded at her, then went to speak quietly to Jessica.  She was calmer than they were, but looked at Kurt sadly and said, “Kurt, I'm so, so sorry.”

“Shh, it's not your fault.  You've done everything you could.  It just happens sometimes.  Try to rest if you can, but yell and wake us up if you need us for anything,” he soothed.

She smiled.  “I might have forgotten to mention it, but I tend to be a little loud during labor.  You probably wouldn't be able to sleep through it if you tried.”  They grinned back at her and settled on the couch together, Kurt nestled between Blaine's legs, his back against Blaine's chest, Blaine's arms around his waist.  Looking at them, Jessica thought that she couldn't be helping a better couple to have a child.  She just prayed everything would turn out alright.

Kurt dozed fitfully, his head nestled in the crook of Blaine's neck.  Blaine couldn't sleep, but tried to keep Kurt as comfortable as possible.  He had a feeling Kurt wouldn't be sleeping much in the next few days.  Jessica had gone back to sleep.  Nurses came in to check her periodically, sometimes causing her to stir briefly, but she seemed able to drop off again.  Blaine ran through possible scenarios in his head, and tried not to think about what the doctor's mention of the NICU meant.  Finally, near dawn, they hung a new medication on her I.V. stand.  The nurse who started it looked at Blaine, the only other person awake in the room, and said quietly, “It won't be much longer before things start to happen.”  He nodded.  That must have been the medication to induce labor.  After a short debate with himself, he decided not to wake either Kurt or Jessica; they both needed all the rest they could get.

“Oh, God, shit, that hurts!”  Jessica yelled.  Blaine checked his watch.  Forty-five minutes. 

Kurt was startled suddenly out of sleep when he heard Jessica.  “Are you having contractions?”  He asked.

“Oh, yeah.  First one I've felt and Jesus, it won't end,” she said.

Kurt was instantly up and in coach mode, talking her through her breathing and rubbing her back.  The contraction finally ended.  “What time is it?”  Kurt asked.

“About seven-fifteen,” Blaine yawned.

“Exactly, Blaine,” Kurt snapped, grabbing a notebook.

“Seven-eighteen,” Blaine answered.  Kurt recorded the time.  Blaine sighed.  Kurt hated to feel out of control and helpless.  Blaine supposed it was because of all the times he had felt that way:  when his mother was ill, during his father's illnesses, when he was bullied in school, and then when he had not gotten into NYADA the first time he applied.  As a result, he did anything he could to avoid the feeling, which led to some slightly obsessive-compulsive behavior at times, such as religiously recording the time and duration of each contraction, and calculating the time between each.  He'd done it during Rachel's labor and Macy's.  Blaine had hoped acting as coach would mean he could let this go, but apparently it was not to be.  It said volumes about his love for and trust in Blaine that he sometimes let Blaine take control completely, but even then, he knew he would be able to stop anything that was happening at any time with just a word, so the control he gave up was never really total.  “Baby, the machine is recording all of that,” he tried.

“I need to do this,” Kurt insisted, blinking back tears.

“I know.  It's okay,” Blaine told him.  He'd tried talking to Kurt about it, tried to talk to him about seeing someone, but Kurt refused, and addressing it directly only seemed to increase his feelings of helplessness, and therefore his obsessiveness.  Blaine was certain Jessica's condition and the early induced labor were making things worse; he didn't want to contribute to the problem, so he dropped the matter.

“When did the contraction start, exactly?”  Kurt asked Jessica.

“I don't know.  The damn thing woke me up,” she said testily.

Kurt started to reply, but one look at Jessica shut him up.  He did everything she asked all day, in between recording information about the contractions and coaching her through them, rubbing her back and shoulders.  He and Blaine worked together to get her through her labor, doing whatever they could to try to ease her pain and make her feel better. 

She really didn't want pain medication, but did say the contractions had started out stronger than with her other children, and were closer together from the beginning.  Aside from the first contraction that took her by surprise, she really didn't cuss much, at least not compared to Macy.  However, as the contractions grew in intensity as the day wore on, she screamed and yelled unintelligible things.  As usual, Kurt handled this better than Blaine, who couldn't stand to see anyone in pain.  By late afternoon, Blaine was ready to offer Jessica a bonus to take pain medication.  About half an hour after the idea occurred to him, he actually did; Kurt shot him a withering look, and Jessica refused, on the grounds that the pain reducing drugs could actually slow labor and sometimes had adverse effects on the baby.  In the end, she prevailed, insisting between contractions that she could handle the pain.

Darkness fell, and the hours continued to pass.  Nurses and midwives came and went, as well as the occasional doctor.  No one other than Kurt and Blaine seemed too worried about how Jessica's labor was progressing.  It was nearly dawn by the time the doctor came in and announced that Jessica was ready to push.  By that time, she was completely exhausted, and Blaine had been awake over twenty-four hours.  Kurt came into his element, stepping into the role of coach in a way that would have made Coach Beiste proud, encouraging and tough at the same time.  Blaine was beginning to get slightly spacey from lack of sleep, and couldn't believe how suddenly Kurt knew all the right things to do.  A little over an hour later, although it seemed much longer to Blaine, a small, shrill cry rang through the room.  The doctor handed the tiny baby to Kurt, and Blaine stepped in to cut the umbilical cord.  They held her for less than a minute before a nurse and another doctor took her away to the other side of the room.

The nurses and doctor surrounded their little girl, and they could only stand to the side and watch helplessly.  Finally, the doctor approached them as a nurse placed the baby in a glass box and whisked her out of the room.  “Where are they taking her?”  Blaine demanded.

“To the NICU,” the doctor said.  “Okay, the good news is she's breathing on her own and her heartbeat is steady.  She is quite small, even considering how premature she is, at three pounds, twelve and a half ounces, and at thirty-four weeks, her ability to suck is just developing.  We're going to keep her here, in the NICU, until we're sure she's stable and can regulate her heartbeat, breathing and body temperature on her own, and we also need to be sure she can suck well enough to take a bottle.  We would also like to make sure she's gaining weight.”

“When can we see her?”  Kurt interrupted.

“Give the staff in the NICU about half an hour to get her situated.  After that, you can go in.  There are special procedures.  You will have to always wash your hands before you go in, there's a staff member there whose sole job is to enforce that.  You cannot come in if you're sick, even with something as minor as a cold, because the babies in the NICU are either premature or very sick or both, and their immune systems are compromised or underdeveloped.  On top of that, there's a disease called RSV that can make preemies and kids with poor immune systems very, very sick – it can even be deadly, but in most people with normal immune systems it's no more than a minor cold; it's most typical from October to April, and we'll vaccinate your daughter for it before she leaves here.  She'll need to be vaccinated every month until RSV season is over, and you shouldn't take her to public places until then.  Even doctor's visits should be scheduled either first thing in the morning or right after lunch, before other people come in.”

“But we can see her, right?”  Blaine followed up.

“Right,” the doctor continued, “Sorry, I got off on a tangent.  Yes, you can see her.  NICU visiting hours start at seven a.m., and end at eleven p.m.  Some parents will stay the night, but I don't think you will.”

“Why wouldn't we?”  Kurt asked.

“Oh, you won't need to.  Only the parents of the most critical patients stay the night, and it doesn't look like your little one is going to meet that criteria, so you'll be asked to leave at eleven,” the doctor explained.

Kurt looked at Blaine.  He was a little relieved by the explanation, but he still didn't like the idea of leaving their baby in the hospital all alone at night.  Blaine smiled weakly back at him.

By this time, Jessica was through with the last of the procedures and a nurse was helping her to clean up.  A young woman who did not appear to be a nurse brought her paperwork.  Blaine wondered if one was still allowed to call the volunteers who did this sort of work candy-stripers; if not, he had no idea what to call her.  He was brought out of his reverie by Jessica waving the woman in their direction.  “They're the dads.  I'm a surrogate.  I can't fill out any of this paperwork.”  The young woman looked confused and insisted that she had to fill them out because it was policy, and it required calling a supervisor to get the mess straightened out.

Kurt was mildly annoyed, since the reason that they had chosen the doctor and hospital they had was their experience in dealing with surrogacy situations.  Aside from one midwife's assumption that they were visiting friends, everything had gone smoothly with the boys.  Now they were listening to the supervisor try to explain and excuse an uninformed and inexperienced volunteer, who was determined to follow hospital policy to the letter.  “I'm sorry, sir, she didn't know.  We do have a different policy in place when dealing with surrogates, she just didn't know it.  When it's not a surrogate situation, the mother is required to fill out the paperwork outside the presence of the father or anyone else other than hospital staff, to make sure she's not coerced into putting something other than the truth on the paperwork.”

Kurt looked ready to make a cutting remark, but Blaine stepped in and said, “That's fine; just, from now on, please cover the issue in training so that no one else has to deal with this.  Can we please just fill out the paperwork so we can go see our daughter?”  The woman handed over the sheaf of papers and retreated to the corner of the room.

Blaine looked at the forms and then at Kurt and said, “Um, Baby, what are we naming her?  I mean, I know her middle name is Elizabeth, we agreed on that years ago, but what is her first name?”  They had discussed various names, but nothing had seemed right.  They thought they would have more time.

“What's your Mom's name?  She has my mother's middle name, so what about your mom?”  Kurt asked.

“Margaret.  We talked about it months ago, and we both agreed we really aren't in love with it,” Blaine answered.

“But what is her full name?”

“Margaret Eleanor Anderson.  Her maiden name was Philipino and people kept mispronouncing it so she dropped it.”

“What about Eleanor?  Eleanor Elizabeth,” Kurt said.

Blaine smiled at him.  “It's perfect, although it's a pretty big name for such a little girl.”

“We could call her Ellie,” Kurt suggested.

“I like it.  Let's fill out the forms,” Blaine told him.

As Kurt wrote Eleanor Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson into the space provided, he suddenly paused.  “Oh, my God.  She's going to kill us.  Her name, not counting spaces and punctuation, is thirty letters long.”

Blaine laughed.  “If that's the only thing she wants to kill us over, I think we're going to be pretty lucky.”

* * *

As soon as the paperwork was filled out, they started to leave the room to see their daughter, but was stopped by a voice from the bed.

“Guys?  Can I talk to you for just a minute?”

“Sure, Jess,” Blaine said.

“I'm really, really sorry about this.  Nothing like this has ever happened to me before; if it had, I never would have passed the screening.”

“Jessica, we know it's not your fault,” he assured her.  Kurt had been telling her this since she was admitted.

  “There's nothing I can do about what happened, but there is still something I can do to help her.  I don't want to nurse her for two reasons.  First and foremost, I don't want to bond with her; she's yours, not mine.  Second, sometimes breast fed babies don't like to take a bottle, and you two will have to be able to bottle feed her.  But breast milk is the best thing for her, especially under the circumstances.  I've pumped before, because I nursed my kids and I had to go back to work.  I'd like to do that for you, for her.  So if you're okay with it, I'll ask for a pump and get started.  My milk should come in within a few hours.  I'll pump for a couple of months, and bring it to the NICU as long as she's here, and then drop it off with you, or you can pick it up, after that.  After the first few months, if she's doing well, I'll taper off, and you can gradually switch her over to formula.”

Kurt walked back to the bed and hugged her.  “Thank you, so much.”  He was blinking back tears, but was determined not to let them fall.

* * *

In the NICU, they were greeted by angry sounding squalls.  They had scrubbed their hands as directed, and were now being guided to the far corner, in the direction of the sounds.  Most of the NICU was dimly lit and quiet, the only sounds the soft beeping of monitoring equipment.  A harried nurse looked at them and asked, “Are you the Hummel-Andersons?”

“Yes,” they responded in unison.

“You have a very unhappy young lady.  On the up-side, her lungs are really healthy.”

“What's wrong?”  Kurt was imagining every possible problem he'd ever heard of, as well as pain.

“We monitor heart rates and oxygen levels on all the babies in the NICU.  We do it with these sensors.”  The nurse held up little discs with adhesive on one side and something that looked like a clamp; Kurt recognized them as miniature versions of the monitor leads his father had been attached to when he was in the hospital.  “It seems your little one objects to them.  Rather strenuously.”

“So she's just mad?”  Blaine asked, just to confirm that his interpretation of what the nurse said was correct.

“Pretty much.”

“Can we get closer?  Can we touch her?”  Kurt wanted to know.

“Yes.”

He walked closer to the isolette.  “Hey, Ellie, Baby, you need to quit giving the nurses a hard time.  It's going to be okay.  Daddy's here, and so is Papa.”  He touched her head gently, amazed at how tiny she was now that he was getting his first good look at her.  Feeling his touch, she stopped crying; the look on her face, however, was anything but pleased.

Blaine burst out laughing.  “She's definitely yours.  That is absolutely the Hummel bitch-glare, without a doubt.”

“Hush,” Kurt said.

“She's all hooked up.  Do you want to hold her?”  The nurse asked.

“Can we?”  Blaine asked.

“Yes.  She's pretty stable, unlike some of our kids.  For the kids like her, the ones who are just moderately early and small, and are stable, being held is one of the best things for her.  As much skin-to-skin contact as possible.  It's called kangaroo-care, and it helps preemies regulate their temperature, breathing and heart rate.”

“What do we need to do?”  Kurt wanted to know.

“Pick a rocker or glider and sit down.  Unbutton your shirt, and we'll strip her to a diaper if she's wearing anything, and lay her on your chest.  Then you just hold her like that.  We'll drape a blanket over the two of you.  When you're not here, or not holding her, most of the rest of the time she'll be swaddled; it makes newborns comfortable, because it mimics the closeness of the womb,” the nurse explained.

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was generally not a fan of being shirtless in public.  “Baby, could you pull that rocker up for me?”  Kurt asked, nodding toward an old fashioned rocker a few feet away.  Blaine pulled it close to the isolette and Kurt sat and promptly unbuttoned his shirt.  The nurse handed Ellie to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, supporting under her bottom and across her back.  She snuggled into her Daddy's chest as the nurse draped a blanket over both of them.  “Sorry, Sweetheart, Daddy hasn't showered since, eew, the day before yesterday.”  The baby didn't seem to mind.  He looked back at Blaine.  “How about I take this shift.  Go home, take a shower and a nap, see the boys, and let people know what's going on.  You can call my parents and Finn, that's fine.  Come back in a few hours and we'll trade.”

* * *

Blaine bent to kiss them both before leaving.  He caught a cab, and began calling people on the way back to the apartment.  He showered, then went to Santana's to explain to two very disappointed little boys that their sister had been born, but had to stay in the hospital for a while and they were not old enough to go into the special part of the hospital where she was.  He showed them pictures he had taken on his phone.  “She looks funny,” Patrick said.  Ian nodded his agreement.

“She's beautiful,” Blaine told them.  Patrick looked at the picture again, then back at his Papa, then back to the picture, trying to see what Blaine saw.  Finally, he shook his head.

“What would you guys say to hanging out with Auntie Tana and Auntie Brit another day, maybe go home tomorrow?  Papa looks pretty tired, and I think he needs a nap,” Santana said to the boys.  They nodded their assent.  “Great.  Go find Brianna and play.”  Turning to Blaine, she said, “Don't worry about them.  We'll work out something.  You need to sleep, and I'm betting Kurt's in no better shape than you.  Have you eaten?  Never mind, come to the kitchen and I'll feed you before you go home to sleep.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows.  Santana could cook, he knew that, but she didn't do it all that often.  He followed her to the kitchen, and laughed when he saw the peanut butter jar open.  Santana's back was to him as she fished for something in the refrigerator.  “Grape or strawberry?”  She called.

“Pick one.  I'm too tired to care.”

“I found grape first,” she said. 

As he eased down onto a barstool at the breakfast bar, he told her, “I could have done that at home.”

“But I wouldn't have known for sure that you'd eaten.”  She pushed a sandwich across the bar.  As he ate, she said, “You're right, she really is beautiful, but she's so tiny.  I think I'd be afraid to hold her.”

“I kind of am, but Kurt seems fine with it.  I guess I'll learn.”

“You will.  You'll be great.”

* * *

At the hospital, Kurt was holding Ellie when a nurse approached him with a tiny bottle that looked more like a large vial or test tube than a bottle, with a little liquid in it.  Looking closer, he could see it was labeled with Jessica's name and Ellie's.  “Let's see how she does with eating.  At thirty-four weeks, she may not have a strong enough suck to handle this on her own, and if she doesn't, we'll insert a tube into her stomach.  But she might be ready now.”  The nurse showed Kurt how to hold her and how to make sure the milk didn't flow too fast.  Ellie's eyes seemed to light up and she sucked hungrily until the bottle was empty.  “Wow.  She's a champ.  If she keeps this up we won't be enjoying her company for very long.  So far she's doing well with her body temperature and heart rate, her oxygen sats are good, and it looks like eating won't be a problem.  She might go home a lot sooner than we thought.”

“When?”  Kurt was both anxious to get her home, and nervous about the thought of managing her care without a medical team to back him up.

“Well, with preemies, we usually say we're shooting for getting them home by their due dates, but a lot go home earlier.  I think she'll be one of the kids who leaves us early, but we have to make sure everything stays stable and she's gaining weight, so I can't say for sure.  Let's just wait and see how everything goes.”

“Hear that, Baby Girl?  You have a chance to come home and meet your brothers early if you can just keep it up,” Kurt whispered to his daughter, who was drifting off to sleep again.  Kurt napped with her.

* * *

Kurt was awoken by a gentle kiss.  “Hey, Baby, my turn.  You need to go home and get a few hours of sleep and a shower.”

“Not necessarily in that order,” Kurt said.

A nurse came over and told them Ellie needed a break.  She told them when she would eat next, and suggested one of them come back then.  Blaine looked a little heartbroken, but she said, “You'll be spending plenty of time here.  Take the break.”

“She's going to be okay.  Come on, we can have lunch and I'll fill you in,” Kurt told him.

They walked to a small café near the hospital, and ordered soup and salads.  Over lunch Kurt told Blaine about Ellie's first meal, and the nurse's prediction that she might get to go home early.  Blaine filled Kurt in on the boy's location and their reaction to the pictures of their new sister.  Kurt was half annoyed, half amused by their reaction.

Soon Blaine headed back to the hospital; even if he couldn't hold her yet, he could watch over his daughter.  Kurt went home to bathe and rest.

In the NICU, Blaine watched Ellie sleep, marveling in how tiny, and yet how perfect, she was.  He lost track of time, and was surprised when the nurse told him it was time for her to eat.  The instructions Kurt had been given earlier were repeated, but Blaine began to panic, terrified of doing something wrong.  The nurse placed the now fussing baby back into the isolette and worked to calm the nervous father.  “She doesn't want me to hold her; she's crying,” he protested.

“She's hungry.  She'd let the devil himself hold her as long as there was a bottle involved,” the nurse informed him.  “I'm right here.  You're going to be fine.  I'll make sure you're doing everything right.”

Blaine took a deep breath and reached for the baby.  The nurse placed the swaddled infant in his arms, and the moment he offered the bottle, she began to suck eagerly.  His nerves faded as his daughter enjoyed her meal.

Once she was done, the nurse asked if he wanted to do Kangaroo care.  He did, and she unwrapped Ellie while he opened his shirt.  Soon, Ellie was curled on his chest and they were both covered in a blanket.  He got his first hint of how strong she was when she grabbed a tiny fist full of chest hair and pulled it out.  After recovering from the shock, he offered her his pinky; she latched onto it with a vise-like grip.  He was still a little afraid of hurting her; surely something so small must be fragile.  However, he gradually began to relax, starting to believe that maybe he really could do this.

* * *

The next few weeks settled into a routine.  Kurt and Blaine split time at the hospital, trying to spend as much time as possible with their new daughter while still getting some work done.  They ate meals together, catching up on what had happened in the NICU or at work that day.  At least one of them saw the boys each day, although friends had apparently worked out a schedule to care for them that kept them busy most of the time.  The boys were spending their time at an assortment of friends' apartments, dance, design and recording studios, theaters, rehearsal halls, and, on at least one memorable occasion, one of Santana's clubs.  The nannies were almost not necessary, but were ready to fill in when needed.  What they refused to do was disclose the identity of the person, or people, who kept the refrigerator and pantry stocked.  When they were at the hospital, or at work, friends dropped by with meals.  The two men were busy and tired, but well cared for. 

Ellie's stay in the hospital remained blissfully uneventful, and after two and a half weeks, the staff announced she was ready to go home, having steadily gained weight after an initial drop, and having proven her ability to regulate the bodily functions that concerned the doctors.  Her fathers were both exhilarated and terrified at the thought of taking her home.

Once at home, the two men, and as well as the boys, tried desperately to piece together how one tiny little girl could turn their lives upside down so fast.  All four learned to recognize the bitch-glare, and to act fast to fix whatever had brought it on. 

Watching them run around trying to appease her, Santana laughed.  “She's going to be the most spoiled kid ever, first of all, and second, a word of advice, you can't let a three-week-old run things.”

At her voice, Ellie turned her angry face toward the woman.  Rushing in with a bottle, Kurt said, “My God, is that really what I look like when I'm angry?”

“Absolutely, Hummel.”

[1] Jessica's test results and diagnosis are based on my own; many people have very different experiences with pre-eclampsia and toxemia.