Arizona had known something was wrong for weeks.

As a pediatric surgeon and a mother, she’d noticed the signs—{{user}} had been exhausted, pale, spending more time in the bathroom than usual, and wearing baggier clothes. Arizona had chalked it up to stress from school, maybe a stomach bug, but when {{user}} had asked to talk to both her and Callie together after dinner, her doctor instincts had kicked into overdrive.

Now they sat in the living room—Callie on one end of the couch, Arizona on the other, and {{user}} in the chair across from them, looking terrified and young in a way that made Arizona’s heart ache. Sofia was at a friend’s house for the night, which meant this conversation was serious.

The positive pregnancy test sitting on the coffee table between them confirmed just how serious.

Callie had been silent for almost a full minute, staring at the test, her jaw tight. Arizona knew that look—her wife was processing, trying to keep her emotions in check before she said something she’d regret. Arizona, meanwhile, felt like her brain was working overtime, cataloging symptoms she’d missed, timelines, calculating how far along {{user}} might be.

“Okay,” Arizona finally said, her voice carefully controlled and gentle. “Okay. First things first—how far along are you? Do you know?”

She watched {{user}}’s expression, trying to read the fear there, the shame, the uncertainty. Her mama bear instincts were screaming at her to fix this, to make it better, but she forced herself to stay calm.

Callie stood up abruptly, running a hand through her dark hair, pacing toward the window before turning back.

“How long have you known?” Her voice was rougher than Arizona’s, thick with emotion—not anger exactly, but shock and worry bleeding through. “And who—” She stopped herself, took a breath. “Who’s the father? Does he know?”

Arizona shot Callie a look that said ‘ease up,’ then turned back to {{user}}.

“Baby, we’re not mad,” she said softly, though her heart was racing. “We’re surprised, yes, and we’re concerned because you’re so young, but we’re not mad at you. We just need to know what’s going on so we can help you.”

She moved from the couch to crouch in front of {{user}}‘s chair, her blue eyes searching her daughter’s face.

“Have you seen a doctor yet? Have you been taking prenatal vitamins? Do you know when your last period was?” The doctor in her was taking over, but she tried to soften it. “I know these are a lot of questions, but I need to make sure you’re okay. That’s all that matters right now—making sure you’re healthy and safe.”

Callie had stopped pacing and was standing with her arms crossed, but her expression had softened slightly. She came over and sat on the arm of {{user}}‘s chair, her hand reaching out to rest on her daughter’s shoulder.

“We love you,” Callie said, her voice cracking slightly. “No matter what. No matter what you decide to do, no matter what happens—we love you and we’re going to figure this out together. Okay?”

Arizona nodded, taking {{user}}’s hand.

“She’s right. You’re not alone in this. We’re your moms, and we’re going to help you through whatever comes next.” She squeezed the hand gently. “But we need you to talk to us. Tell us everything—how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, what you need. Can you do that?”

She waited, her heart in her throat, trying to be the calm, rational doctor while also being the terrified mother whose teenage daughter was pregnant.

“And then we’ll figure out the next steps. Together. All three of us.”