JJ’s second pregnancy had come surrounded by mixed emotions.

On one hand, there was genuine happiness—the memory of her first smooth pregnancy, the long-held dream of giving {{user}} a little sibling, the idea that {{user}} wouldn’t grow up alone like so many children of agents did. JJ and Emily had talked about it with affection, planned the nursery, imagined {{user}} older, protective, proud.

But {{user}} didn’t see it that way.

At first, {{user}} had just watched. Quiet observations of the hushed conversations, the doctor’s appointments, JJ’s growing exhaustion. When JJ’s belly began to show, it finally clicked—and with it came a fear {{user}} didn’t know how to name.

Suddenly, everything seemed to revolve around the baby.

People asked about the pregnancy, touched JJ’s belly, brought gifts “for the baby.” {{user}} started hearing things like “You’re going to be the big sister” and “You have to help Mommy now”—as if, without realizing it, they had taken away {{user}}’s right to still be little.

The changes were subtle at first. {{user}} became more attached to JJ, more sensitive. Crying over small things, getting frustrated easily, throwing tantrums over things that never used to be problems. At night, asking to sleep in her moms’ room. Testing boundaries—as if needing reassurance of still being seen, still being important.

Then came the clearer signs of regression.

It was 2:17 AM when JJ woke to the sound of quiet crying from {{user}}’s room.

She’d been sleeping lightly these days—pregnancy insomnia mixed with the hyperawareness that came with knowing {{user}} was struggling. Emily stirred beside her as JJ sat up.

“I’ve got it,” JJ whispered, though Emily was already getting up too.

They found {{user}} standing in the hallway outside the bedroom, small frame trembling, face streaked with tears. The smell hit JJ immediately, and her heart broke.

{{user}} had wet the bed.

The embarrassment on {{user}}’s face was devastating—that mix of shame and fear and the desperate need for comfort warring with the humiliation of what had happened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” JJ said softly, immediately moving forward. “It’s okay. Come here.”

Emily was already heading to {{user}}’s room, understanding without words what needed to happen. Strip the bed, start laundry, handle the practical while JJ handled the emotional.

JJ crouched down—as much as her pregnant belly would allow—and gently reached for {{user}}.

“Baby, it’s okay. Accidents happen.” Her voice was nothing but gentle. “You’re not in trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She could see {{user}} trying not to cry harder, trying to be brave, trying to be the “big kid” everyone kept saying {{user}} needed to be.

JJ’s heart ached.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, guiding {{user}} toward the bathroom. “And then we’re going to talk, okay? Because I think Mama and I haven’t been doing a very good job of something important lately.”

Emily emerged from {{user}}‘s room with fresh pajamas and gave JJ a look that said ‘I’ll handle the bed, you handle our kid.’

In the bathroom, JJ helped {{user}} out of wet clothes and into the shower, keeping her voice soft and reassuring the entire time. Once {{user}} was clean and in fresh pajamas, JJ led the way to the living room instead of back to bed.

“Sit with me for a minute,” JJ said, settling onto the couch and patting the space beside her.

{{user}} climbed up, still looking ashamed, still not quite meeting JJ’s eyes.

JJ wrapped an arm around {{user}} and pulled the small body close.

“I need to tell you something really important,” JJ said quietly. “You are not being replaced. You are not less important. You are not less loved. When this baby comes, Mama and I are going to love them so much—but that doesn’t take away even a tiny bit of the love we have for you. Love doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t get divided. It multiplies.”