Chapter Six: Growing Pains

Sofia was two when Maya discovered she was pregnant again.

This time, the two pink lines brought a different kind of panic. They'd been careful—more careful than before. But apparently, not careful enough.

"How are we going to do this?" Maya asked Ethan, staring at the test. "We're barely managing with one. How are we going to handle two?"

But Ethan surprised her. Instead of panic, his face broke into a smile. "Sofia's going to be a big sister."

"Ethan, this isn't—we can't—"

"We said that last time too," he reminded her gently. "And look at us now. We're okay. We're more than okay. We've got this, Maya."

This pregnancy was different from the first. Maya knew what to expect now, knew what her body would go through. But it was also harder—she was chasing after a toddler while dealing with morning sickness and exhaustion.

They'd moved into their own apartment six months earlier, a small two-bedroom place that was nothing fancy but was theirs. Now they'd have to figure out how to fit two kids into one bedroom.

Sofia didn't understand what was happening at first. Maya's belly grew, and Sofia would pat it gently, but the concept of a baby brother or sister was too abstract for her two-year-old mind.

"Baby," Maya would say, pointing to her stomach.

"Baby," Sofia would repeat, then go back to playing with her toys.

Ethan had been promoted again, this time to shop manager. It came with better pay and benefits, which they desperately needed. But it also meant more responsibility, more stress. He'd come home exhausted, and Maya would hand him Sofia, and they'd tag-team their way through dinner and bedtime.

Their relationship had evolved. They weren't the starry-eyed teenagers who'd fallen in love in English class anymore. They were partners, teammates, united in the mission of keeping their family afloat. The romance had faded into something deeper—a bone-deep commitment, a love that showed itself in actions rather than words.

Ethan would rub Maya's swollen feet without being asked. Maya would pack Ethan's lunch every morning, adding little notes that said "I love you" or "You're an amazing dad." They'd steal kisses in the kitchen while Sofia napped, brief moments of connection in the chaos.

Their second daughter, Isabella Rose, was born on a snowy December morning. The labor was faster this time—only six hours from first contraction to delivery. Sofia stayed with Linda, and when they brought Isabella home, Sofia stared at her new sister with wide, curious eyes.

"Baby," she said, pointing.

"Yes, baby Isabella," Maya confirmed. "Your baby sister."

Sofia reached out and gently touched Isabella's hand. "My baby."

Maya's heart melted. "Yes, sweetheart. Your baby."

The adjustment to two kids was brutal. Isabella was a fussier baby than Sofia had been, crying more, sleeping less. Sofia, sensing the shift in attention, started acting out—throwing tantrums, refusing to eat, regressing in her potty training.

Maya felt like she was being pulled in a thousand directions. Isabella needed to be fed every two hours. Sofia needed attention and reassurance. The apartment needed to be cleaned. Laundry piled up. Dishes sat in the sink. Maya couldn't remember the last time she'd showered.

One afternoon, she sat on the bathroom floor and cried. Both girls were finally asleep, and instead of using that precious time to clean or rest, she just cried. She was so tired. So overwhelmed. So touched-out from constantly having little hands grabbing at her.

Ethan found her there when he came home from work. He didn't say anything, just sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"I can't do this," Maya sobbed into his chest. "I'm a terrible mother. I'm failing them both."

"You're not failing anyone," Ethan said firmly. "You're keeping two tiny humans alive. You're amazing."

"I yelled at Sofia today. She was just being two, and I yelled at her because I was so tired and frustrated. What kind of mother does that?"

"A human one. Maya, you're allowed to have hard days. You're allowed to be tired and frustrated. That doesn't make you a bad mom."

"I just... I feel like I'm drowning."

"Then let me help you swim. I'll take tomorrow off work. You sleep in, take a long shower, leave the house if you want. I've got the girls."

"You can't take a day off. You just got promoted—"

"I can and I will. My family comes first. Always."

True to his word, Ethan called in the next morning. Maya slept until ten, took a shower that lasted thirty minutes, and then went to a coffee shop where she sat alone for two hours, reading a book and drinking coffee that was actually hot.

When she came home, she felt human again. Ethan was on the floor with both girls, building a tower of blocks with Sofia while Isabella dozed in her bouncer. He looked exhausted but happy.

"Thank you," Maya said, kissing him. "I needed that."

"I know you did. And Maya? We need to do this more often. You need breaks. We both do."

They started implementing a system—one night a week, Ethan would take over completely after work, and Maya would have a few hours to herself. One weekend day, Maya would take the girls, and Ethan would have time to work on his car or see friends. It wasn't perfect, but it helped.