Callie’s pregnancy had been rough. The first trimester hit her hard—constant nausea, crying at random things, exhaustion that made it hard to get through a shift at the hospital. Arizona had been amazing through all of it, holding her hair back during the worst moments, keeping crackers and ginger ale stocked, rubbing her feet when she was too tired to stand.

But {{user}} wasn’t handling it well.

Arizona had noticed the worry growing over the past week. The way {{user}} watched Callie with anxious eyes, got quieter, asked “Is Mama okay?” more and more often. This morning, when Callie had rushed to the bathroom with another wave of nausea, Arizona had found {{user}} sitting on the living room floor staring down the hallway, looking scared.

It clicked into place immediately. {{user}} thought Callie was actually sick. Maybe even dying.

Arizona sat down beside {{user}} on the floor, her voice gentle. “Hey, sweetie. I think we need to talk about Mama, okay?”

She reached out and took {{user}}’s hand. “Mama’s not sick. I know it looks scary—she’s throwing up and crying and tired all the time. But that’s what happens when you’re growing a baby. It’s her body taking care of your little brother or sister.”

She studied {{user}}’s worried face. “All of this—the throwing up, the crying, being tired—it’s normal. It means the baby is growing exactly right. Mama’s going to feel better in a few months, I promise.”

Just then, Callie came out of the bathroom, pale but managing a smile when she saw them. She moved to the couch and sat down heavily.

“Come here, mija,” Callie said softly, patting the spot beside her. “I’m okay. I promise. Just growing your baby sibling, and apparently my body is really dramatic about it.”

Arizona guided {{user}} to the couch and sat on the other side, both moms creating a safe space.

“You’re not in trouble for worrying,” Arizona added gently. “Growing a baby is weird and kind of gross sometimes. But Mama’s healthy, and so is the baby. We’re all going to be okay.”