That night, the house was unusually quiet.
Jay sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting gently on her stomach. Nothing had changed on the outside—but inside her, everything felt different.
There was a life there.
A tiny heartbeat she had heard with her own ears.
She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, placing both hands over her stomach now.
"Hi…" she whispered, feeling a little silly but unable to stop herself.
"It's me."
Her throat tightened.
"I don't know if I'll be perfect," she murmured softly. "I get scared. I overthink. I cry easily."
She smiled faintly through the tears.
"But I promise… I'll love you. More than anything."
The room felt still, almost like it was listening.
Jay leaned back against the pillows, one hand still there, protective without even realizing it. For the first time since everything changed, she didn't feel rushed or overwhelmed.
She felt… connected.
A quiet knock came at the door.
Jay looked up. "Come in."
Sarina stepped inside, her movements gentle, careful. She took one look at Jay and immediately understood.
She sat beside her on the bed without a word.
They stayed quiet for a moment.
Then Sarina spoke softly, "I used to sit like this too."
Jay looked at her, surprised.
"With my first child," Sarina continued. "I was terrified. Everyone thought I was strong, but inside I felt like I knew nothing."
Jay's voice trembled. "What if I'm not ready?"
Sarina smiled gently and took Jay's hand. "No mother ever is."
Jay blinked. "Then how do they do it?"
"They love," Sarina said simply. "And they learn."
Jay's eyes filled. "I'm scared I'll mess this up… that I'll hurt them without meaning to."
Sarina turned toward her fully. "Jay, listen to me."
Jay nodded.
"The fact that you're scared means you already care," Sarina said. "And that is the most important thing."
Jay swallowed. "Sometimes I still feel like I don't deserve this family."
Sarina's expression softened. She reached up and cupped Jay's cheek gently, like a mother would.
"You didn't take anything from us," she said firmly. "You became part of us."
Jay's tears fell silently.
"You didn't bring problems," Sarina continued. "You brought love. You brought light. And now… you're bringing life."
Jay broke down then, leaning into Sarina's shoulder.
"I don't want to be alone again," she whispered.
Sarina held her tightly. "You won't be. Not ever."
After a while, Jay pulled back and placed her hand on her stomach again.
"I think… I already love them," she said softly.
Sarina smiled through her own tears. "Then you're already a mother."
Jay closed her eyes, feeling warmth settle deep inside her chest.
For the first time, she wasn't just thinking about surviving the future.
She was imagining it.
A home.
A family.
A child who would never question whether they were wanted.
And that thought didn't scare her anymore.
It healed her.The night passed slowly.
Jay barely slept, her body heavy, her mind restless. Keifer didn't sleep at all. He sat beside her on the hospital bed, fingers interlaced with hers, refusing to let go even for a moment.
When the nurse finally came in early morning and said gently, "It's time," Jay's breath caught.
Keifer stood up instantly.
"I'm here," he said, firm but soft. "Look at me. I'm not going anywhere."
As they wheeled her into the delivery room, Keifer stayed right beside her, his hand locked around hers like an anchor.
Jay's breathing grew uneven. Fear crept in despite her trying to stay calm.
Keifer leaned down, forehead touching hers.
"Breathe with me," he said quietly. "Just like we practiced."
Jay nodded, tears slipping down her temples.
"It hurts," she whispered.
"I know," he replied, voice steady even as his eyes shone. "But you're doing amazing. I'm so proud of you."
She squeezed his hand harder, almost afraid to let go.
"Don't leave," she murmured.
Keifer shook his head immediately. "Never."
Time blurred.
The room filled with soft instructions, calm voices, steady reassurance. Through it all, Keifer never released her hand—not when she cried, not when she trembled, not when fear washed over her in waves.
Every time she looked for him, he was there.
Every time she faltered, he grounded her.
"You're strong," he whispered.
"You're safe."
"I've got you."
Jay clung to his words as much as his hand.
And then—
A sound broke through the air.
Small. Sharp. Alive.
Jay froze.
Keifer's breath hitched.
For a second, the world stopped.
Then the nurse smiled. "Your baby is here."
Jay's eyes widened, disbelief flooding her face. "Did… did you hear that?"
Keifer laughed and cried at the same time. "I heard everything."
He bent down, pressing his forehead to hers, tears slipping freely now.
"You did it," he whispered. "You were incredible."
Jay sobbed softly, relief washing over her.
"I was so scared," she admitted.
Keifer lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
"And you were brave anyway."
A moment later, they brought the baby closer.
Jay turned her head, breath trembling as she saw that tiny face.
Keifer's grip tightened—not possessive, not controlling—just present.
Just there.
Jay whispered, voice breaking, "We made this."
Keifer nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
"Yes," he finally managed. "We did."
And as Jay held her baby for the first time, Keifer still held her hand—just as he had promised.
From the first breath…
to this one.
They were no longer just two souls.
They were a family. 🤍
It was a boy.
From the moment he arrived, the world seemed to rearrange itself around him.
Jay held him close in the hospital room, exhausted and overwhelmed, tears slipping freely as she looked at his tiny face. Keifer stood beside her, one hand still holding hers, the other hovering protectively near their son like he couldn't believe he was real.
"Our son," he whispered, awe in his voice.
Jay smiled through tears. "He's beautiful."
From that day on, everything changed.
Time didn't stop—but it softened.
Two years passed in a blur of late nights, soft lullabies, tiny clothes, and a home filled with laughter.
Their son grew fast—bright eyes, messy hair, and a habit of clinging to Jay like she was his whole world.
And she was.
If Jay stood up, he followed.
If she sat down, he climbed into her lap.
If she left the room, he protested with tiny, dramatic cries.
Keifer used to watch them from the doorway, pretending to be offended.
"He doesn't even look at me when you're around," he said once.
Jay laughed, brushing her son's hair gently. "Sorry, hubby. You've been replaced."
Sarina smiled knowingly. "He's a mama's boy."
Keizer nodded proudly. "Just like his father was—once."
One quiet afternoon, Jay sat on the floor with her son, stacking colorful blocks. He babbled endlessly, pointing at everything, laughing at his own sounds.
Keifer sat nearby, pretending not to watch too closely.
Then suddenly—
"Maa…ma."
The room froze.
Jay's breath caught. "Did you—?"
Her son looked straight at her, grinned wide, and said clearly this time—
"Mama."
Jay's eyes filled instantly. She pulled him into her arms, laughing and crying at the same time. "Oh my God… you said it."
Keifer stood up slowly, stunned. "He said mama."
Their son hugged Jay tighter, face buried against her shoulder like that was exactly where he belonged.
Keifer walked over, kneeling beside them, his voice soft.
"Guess I know who his favorite is."
Jay smiled through tears. "He feels safe."
Keifer placed a hand on his son's back, then on Jay's shoulder.
"So do I."
And in that moment—watching their little boy cling to his mother, his first word already spoken with love—Keifer knew something deeply, undeniably true:
Jay hadn't just healed herself.
She had built a home.
A family.
And a little boy who would always know what love sounded like—
because his very first word was mama. 💛