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Amy sat cross-legged on the living room rug, watching her two-year-old son push his toy train along the track with unwavering concentration. His little brows furrowed, his dark curls flopping forward as he mimicked the sound of the train with his mouth. She smiled, heart swelling at the sight of him—her brilliant, sweet boy.
And soon, he wouldn’t be the only one.
She swallowed, pressing a hand over her stomach, where a second tiny life was growing. It had been a few days since she found out she was pregnant, and the excitement of it had been overwhelming. But now, sitting here with Leonard, the weight of the moment truly settled in.
She was about to change his whole world.
Taking a breath, she reached out, smoothing her fingers through his curls. “Leonard, honey?”
He hummed in acknowledgment, too absorbed in his train to look up.
Amy hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Mommy has something to tell you.”
Leonard finally glanced up, blinking his big blue eyes at her. “What?”
She felt her throat tighten. How do you explain something like this to a two-year-old?
“Well,” she started gently, “Mommy and Daddy love you so, so much. And… soon, you’re going to have a little brother or sister.”
Leonard stared at her. His train wobbled to a stop. “What’s dat?”
Amy let out a soft chuckle, brushing her fingers over his cheek. “It means… there’s a baby in my tummy. And in a few months, you’re going to be a big brother.”
Leonard’s tiny nose scrunched up. “A baby?”
“Mm-hmm.”
His head tilted in thought. Then, without warning, he reached forward and poked her belly.
His little mouth pursed in concentration. “It in dere?”
Amy let out a surprised laugh.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Amy said. “The baby is growing in there.”
Leonard didn’t say anything for a moment. His tiny hands rested against her belly, his expression unreadable.
Amy’s chest felt heavy. Does he understand? He was still so little. Would he feel left out? Confused? Would he know just how much she loved him, no matter what?
Tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. “Oh, sweetie,” she whispered, cupping his face. “You’ll always be my baby too.”
Leonard’s gaze flicked up to hers, and then, in that simple, honest way that only a child could manage, he nodded.
“Okay.”
Amy let out a shaky breath. “Okay?”
Leonard nodded again. “Okay.”
And that was it. No fuss, no resistance. Just quiet acceptance.
Amy exhaled, letting out a watery laugh. “You’re gonna be such a great big brother, my love.”
Leonard smiled, then went right back to pushing his train along the tracks.
Amy wiped her eyes, still overwhelmed but warm with something deeper. Maybe he didn’t fully understand. Maybe he didn’t have the words for it yet.
But somehow, she knew.
He understood enough.
***
Sheldon sat upright against the headboard, his legs stretched out on the bed, a thick hardcover book propped open in his hands. His expression was one of deep focus, brows slightly furrowed as he read aloud in his precise, deliberate tone.
Amy, lying beside him, could only smile as she watched him read to her stomach.
“‘And thus, Schrödinger postulated that a cat in a box with a radioactive substance exists in a superposition of states—both alive and dead—until it is observed,’” Sheldon intoned, pausing dramatically before glancing down at her belly. “Did you get that, young lady? A paradox before you’re even born. You’re already ahead of most people.”
Amy chuckled, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. “She’s probably wondering why her bedtime stories are all about quantum mechanics.”
“Nonsense,” Sheldon replied, flipping the page. “It’s never too early to nurture an inquisitive mind.”
A tiny voice piped up from the foot of the bed.
“Daddy?”
Amy turned her head to see Leonard, who had been quietly sitting on the mattress, hugging his stuffed koala close. His blue eyes squinted in confusion.
“What you doin’?” Leonard asked, his little nose scrunching up.
“Reading to your sister.”
Leonard’s tiny brows furrowed. “But she’s in Mommy’s tummy.”
“Exactly,” Sheldon confirmed. “Studies suggest that babies in utero can recognize voices and even develop preferences based on early exposure.” He set the book down on his lap and gestured toward Amy’s belly. “Your sister is already becoming acquainted with my voice. It’s only logical to get a head start.”
Leonard stared at him, then turned to Amy. “What Daddy say?”
Amy chuckled, rubbing her belly. “He’s saying the baby can hear us, sweetheart.”
Leonard shuffled closer, glancing at Amy’s stomach with cautious curiosity. “She hears us?”
Amy smiled, patting the space beside her. “She does, sweetie. Do you want to say hi to her?”
Leonard hesitated for only a moment before climbing onto the bed, settling between his parents. He looked at her belly with wide eyes, then up at Amy, uncertain.
“She won’t talk back?” he asked.
Amy smoothed his curls. “Not yet, sweetheart. But she’ll know it’s you.”
Leonard blinked, then leaned forward, pressing his tiny hands gently to Amy’s stomach. He seemed to think for a moment, then softly whispered, “Hewwo, baby.”
Amy’s heart melted instantly.
Sheldon, watching closely, nodded approvingly. “Good. Direct and clear. Try again.”
Leonard turned serious, his little hands still resting against her belly. “I’m Leonard,” he told her, as if properly introducing himself. “I’m your big brother.” He paused, then added, “When you come out, we can play trains.”
Amy let out a soft, teary laugh, stroking his back.
Sheldon smirked. “Though I wouldn’t count on her grasping locomotive engineering for another few years.”
Leonard frowned, looking up at him. “Daddy?”
“Yes?”
Leonard narrowed his eyes in concentration. “What if baby don’t like trains?”
Sheldon blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him.
Amy pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Finally, Sheldon sighed. “Well… I suppose we’ll have to see. But rest assured, son, if that happens, we will handle the crisis accordingly.”
Leonard seemed satisfied with that answer, turning back to Amy’s belly. “Okay, baby,” he whispered. “See you soon.” Then, he leaned forward and pressed a tiny, gentle kiss to her stomach.
Amy’s breath hitched.
Sheldon tilted his head, watching their son with a soft, unreadable expression.
Leonard sat back, looking pleased with himself. “There,” he declared. “Now she knows I love her.”
Amy wiped at the corner of her eye, pulling Leonard into a hug, her heart full.
Sheldon picked up his book again, looking down at Amy’s belly with a small, knowing smile. “It appears you have two adoring fans already, little one.”
Amy smiled, leaning her head back against the pillow.
What a lucky girl.
***
Amy sat in the passenger seat, gripping the armrest as another contraction rolled through her. She exhaled slowly, pressing her head against the seat. “Okay. That one was… manageable.”
Sheldon, hands firmly on the steering wheel, glanced at her with a mix of concentration and concern. “On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate the pain?”
Amy let out a small laugh, though it came out more like a breathless huff. “Not now, Sheldon.”
“Right, right. Not the time,” he murmured, adjusting his grip. “Though I must say, for a woman in labor, you’re remarkably composed.”
“That’s because I’m saving my screaming for when it really counts.”
Sheldon nodded solemnly, keeping his eyes on the road as they sped toward the hospital. “Good strategy.”
Amy knew this moment should be exciting. It was exciting. They were about to meet their daughter after nine long months of back aches and swollen ankles. But as they drove through the dark streets, her mind drifted elsewhere.
“Do you think Leonard’s okay?” she asked suddenly, pressing a hand to her belly as if their unborn daughter could provide an answer.
Sheldon gave her a quick glance. “Of course. He’s with my mother. He’s already safer with her than he is with us.”
Amy swallowed hard. “I know, but… this is different.”
Sheldon frowned. “How?”
Amy didn’t answer right away. Another contraction came, and she breathed through it, gripping the door handle. Sheldon looked at her anxiously, ready to pull over at a moment’s notice, but she waved him off.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. Then, in a quieter voice, she added, “It’s just… this is the last time it’ll ever be just us and him.”
Sheldon blinked. “But that was always the plan, Amy. We wanted another child. We accounted for this.”
“I know that,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want this. But it’s still… hard.”
A thick silence settled between them.
And then, before Amy could stop it, her face crumpled, and she burst into tears.
Sheldon stiffened. “Amy?” His voice wavered in alarm. “Are you in pain? Should I call an ambulance? You told me to drive, but if this is an emergency—”
“No, I’m not hurting!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “I just— I miss him, Sheldon! I miss my baby already!”
Sheldon hesitated, his confusion evident. “But Amy, we’ve left him before. You’ve gone to conferences. I’ve traveled. He’s spent weekends with my mother before—”
“It’s not the same,” she choked out.
Sheldon fell silent.
Amy sniffled, swiping at her tears. “This is the last night he’ll ever be our only baby. And he has no idea. He’s at home, playing with his Nana, thinking everything is the same, and— and when we come back, everything will be different.”
Sheldon processed this in thoughtful silence, his grip on the wheel tightening. After a moment, he reached across the console and placed a hand on her knee.
“You’re right,” he admitted softly. “It will be different. But it’ll be good different.”
Amy swallowed against the lump in her throat.
Sheldon continued, his voice gentle but sure. “Leonard won’t just lose something. He’ll gain something too. He’ll gain a sister. He’ll have someone else who loves him besides us. And she will love him because she will know him—because she will have spent her entire existence listening to his voice through you.”
Amy let out a small, watery laugh. “That’s really sappy, Sheldon.”
Sheldon made a face. “I blame you entirely for that.”
Amy sniffled, taking a deep breath. She wasn’t okay yet, but she felt a little lighter.
Sheldon squeezed her knee. “We’re giving him something special, Amy. Just like we gave him each other.”
Amy exhaled slowly, placing a hand over her belly. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”
Sheldon nodded, satisfied with this conclusion. Then, after a pause, he added, “Also, you should really stop crying before we get there, or they’ll assume I did something wrong.”
Amy let out a wet laugh, shaking her head. “You definitely did something wrong, but I’ll let it slide.”
Sheldon huffed, but before he could argue, Amy let out a sharp inhale as another contraction gripped her.
“Okay, okay, forget everything else,” she panted. “Drive, Cooper. Drive.”
Sheldon hit the gas.
***
Amy was exhausted, but in the best possible way.
She lay propped up against the hospital bed pillows, her body aching but her heart impossibly full. In her arms, wrapped snugly in a soft pink blanket, was their daughter— Laura Marie Cooper , barely a few hours old. She was so small, her tiny fingers curled into delicate fists, her breaths coming in quiet, rhythmic little huffs.
Sheldon sat beside Amy, his expression unreadable as he stared at the newborn. It was that look of his—intense, calculating, awed . Amy had seen it when he won the Nobel Prize, but even that paled in comparison to the way he looked at his children.
A soft knock on the hospital door pulled their attention away.
Then, Mary Cooper stepped inside, a familiar warmth in her smile, holding the hand of a bouncing Leonard with neatly combed brown hair and bright, curious blue eyes.
The second he spotted Amy, his face lit up. “Mommy!”
Amy’s heart swelled as she reached for him. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Leonard made a beeline for her, but then he paused, eyes landing on the tiny bundle in her arms. His little brows furrowed. He was cautious, unsure.
“Leonard,” Mary said gently, kneeling beside him. “Come here, baby. You’ve got someone to meet.”
Amy smiled. “Sweetie, this is your baby sister.”
Leonard took a hesitant step closer, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the hospital bed. His eyes darted from Amy’s face to the little bundle, his expression a mixture of curiosity and quiet apprehension.
Sheldon observed his son carefully. “Leonard, this is Laura Marie. She is very small, so you must be gentle.”
Leonard nodded, his expression serious, “Okay.”
Amy shifted slightly, tilting the baby so Leonard could see her better.
Leonard stared.
Laura’s tiny face was scrunched up in sleep, her soft brown curls barely visible under the hospital cap. She made the faintest movement—her fingers flexing slightly, her nose crinkling—before settling back into rest.
Leonard’s eyes widened. “She’s so little.”
“She is,” Amy murmured.
Leonard hesitated, then looked up at his mother. “Can I touch her?”
“Have you washed your hands?”
He nodded, and Mary did the same to confirm.
Then, Amy guided Leonard’s small hand toward Laura’s.
Leonard’s finger brushed against Laura’s palm—small, soft, and warm.
And then, in a tiny, reflexive motion, Laura’s fingers curled around his.
Leonard gasped audibly. His entire face transformed, his mouth falling open in wonder.
“She’s holding me!” he whispered, eyes darting back up to Amy and Sheldon as if seeking confirmation that this was, in fact, real.
Amy chuckled softly. “She likes you.”
Leonard beamed. His initial hesitation had melted away, replaced by pure adoration. He climbed onto the bed—carefully, as instructed—settling beside Amy, still watching Laura like she was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
Mary let out a quiet sniffle, placing a hand on her chest. “Well, if that ain’t just the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Sheldon, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke, his voice softer than usual. “Sheldon and Leonard,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Amy turned toward him, brow raised. “What?”
Sheldon exhaled, his eyes bouncing between the two children—Leonard, who was still marveling at Laura’s tiny fingers, and Laura, whose face remained peacefully at rest.
“I always thought that ‘Sheldon and Leonard’ would be two physicists solving the mysteries of the universe together,” he mused. “Instead, it’s them.”
Amy felt her throat tighten.
Mary placed a hand on Sheldon’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Well, Shelly, I’d say these two are gonna solve some pretty big mysteries of their own.”
Leonard gently poked Laura’s tiny hand again, giggling when she reflexively grasped his finger once more. Then, he turned to Amy, his voice soft.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can we keep her?”
Amy let out a warm laugh, cradling both of her children against her. “Oh, sweetheart. She’s ours forever.”
Leonard nodded, seeming very pleased with this arrangement. He leaned his small head against Amy’s arm, still watching Laura with rapt attention.
And in that moment, Amy knew.
They had always been a family. But now, they were complete.
The End.