Chapter Text
Wednesday Addams had no ambition to be a mother.
She had declared as such the day her mother dropped her off her first year at Nevermore.
"I am not like you Mother. I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family."
The words had cut Morticia deep. She too had never intentionally sought out to be a wife or mother, but being in love had changed her, and from there her path was sealed. She quipped back at Wednesday affectionately before making her way back into the car, into the arms of her husband, and allowing a tear to fall. She had tried warning her daughter about getting in her own way, but it seemed inevitable she would need to learn that lesson for herself.
If there was one thing she knew to be absolutely sure about Wednesday, it was that she carved her own path in the world. Even as a child, precocious as she was, when she was determined to get something, she lurched towards it fully, stopping at nothing to get her way. She was an exceptional young woman and left those who knew her in a spectacularly disturbed sense of awe.
Since the very dawn of which she gave birth, she knew Wednesday was be fated for love, for motherhood. But the truth about fate was always that if it were known it could be changed. So she dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve and leaned into Gomez' embrace, hoping Wednesday might see for herself that love and motherhood were two of life's greatest gifts, and held out hope her own powers would develop with sufficient time to make those personal decisions on her own.
Only days had gone by before her traitorous body contradicted her previous words.
Wednesday had known the minute she spotted the hazel-eye, curly-headed, clearly distressed brunette behind the counter of the Weathervane, that they were fated for each other. The primal, innate connection she felt to him undoubtedly apparent, pumping adrenaline through her body rapidly, releasing dopamine the second she managed to frighten him for the first time, appearing through a cloud of smoke.
She hadn't known it at the time, but she instantly fell for him, craving his presence in her life the way a recently widowed lover craved her partner despite the painful reality that threatened to seep in. On paper they were total opposites, two ships in the night destined to pass each other mindlessly. But that's what made him perfect.
Not only had he been the only person to offer her an escape plan, but he was clearly cognizant of the bleak, tedious nature of the town in which they inhabited. While others might have insisted Jericho had a "small town charm", Tyler saw it for what it really was, especially for Wednesday: a prison. And she had an appreciation for those her age who actually exercised a modicum of intelligence.
He was handsome, he was sensible, and he appeared true to his word, loyal to a fault.
That was, until, he didn't.
The crushing revelation that he was manipulating her all along threw her entirely off her axis, causing her to doubt every interaction with every individual over the past two months at Nevermore, wondering when exactly she had gotten things so wrong.
But the truth was, even amidst learning the truth about Tyler, she still felt drawn to him, protective of him. She dreamed of his hands, his lips, his breath against her ear as he whispered cruel words that night in the Sheriff's station.
So their relationship moved in waves, on and off again like the stereotype of any teen couple. After discovering that Tyler was the Hyde responsible for the series of murders in Jericho, they were off. Upon Tyler being cleared of wrongdoing, under the manipulation of Laurel Gates who pulled his strings like a masterful puppeteer, he had been accepted to Jericho. After a series of investigations in which Tyler proved useful, they were on. He took her to their senior formal, making love to her for the first time on the floor of his single-room dorm, not quite making it to the bed in time to sate themselves.
When Tyler went to University, majoring in pre-med with a focus in outcast science, and Wednesday took a year off to travel with her Uncle Fester and conduct investigations abroad, they were off. By the time Wednesday had been accepted to college, double-majoring in forensic chemistry and investigative psychology on a fast-track to a PhD program, with Tyler setting sight on medical schools, they were on again.
And from that time on, they maintained an exclusive, sustainable, and fulfilling relationship, spending most nights getting takeout and sitting side by side, up to their eyeballs with homework in various biochemistry textbooks. They exchanged notes, quizzing each other on hard topics, and ran highlighters through to the nub.
At 28, they were married, Wednesday asking for Tyler's hand and bestowing a bloodstone and tourmaline-in-quartz encrusted ring with the Addams family seal. They made it official in court, both of their parents in attendance, and consummated their lifelong devotion to each other under moonlight.
Wednesday had appreciated that those around her knew well enough not to ask about them having children. Including Tyler. In fact, they hadn't talked about it once since tying the knot.
Enid had rambled relentlessly of wanting as many children as possible, having grown up in a rowdy and fruitful home. She had insisted that Wednesday owed her for not inviting her to be maid of honor in her wedding, and that her former roommate would be indebted to serve as her first child's godmother.
Wednesday had begrudgingly agreed.
"Only because the second I step into a church it is inevitable that I will burn, and its been a while since my nerves have been properly singed," she said quickly, before hanging up the phone and returning to her novel.
Three out of nine written books had been published so far, Wednesday working overtime to get her most treasured works into the right hands. In her spare time, she served as a private investigator, having begun merely as a forensic chemist before gaining the network necessary to work freelance.
Tyler had finished his residency as a pediatric neurologist, specializing in intergenerational neuropsychological outcast research, and treating mostly child Hydes. It was apparent that Tyler was good with children, who affectionately nicknamed him "Dr. Ty" and sent drawings in appreciation that decorated the walls of his office.
They were working individuals, neither a housewife nor househusband by any means, pursuing their professional ambitions independently by day and making passionate love by night, their sex life more mind-blowing now than it had ever been before. They were insatiable, taking each other in every room, on every surface of their shared new home, a sizable six-bedroom outside of Westchester County.
It was a modern victorian, which Wednesday cringed upon viewing for the first time on Zillow, Tyler's iPad excitedly shoved in her face. But he'd promised to spray paint it black himself as long as she'd agreed on him make a down payment. She'd insisted on two home libraries and a full room for a wall to wall terrarium for her exotic plants and pedigree black widows.
Their master bedroom was large, a king-sized four-poster bed dressed in striped linens and a faux fur duvet Wednesday could get lost in with her small stature. Chains were tied to the bed as somewhat of an inside joke between the couple, and sheer black material flowing on each side, canopying the bed like a spider's web.
The thermostat was set at fifty-five, a significant compromise from where Wednesday initially wanted it. Tyler whined, tugging Wednesday close each night, his ice-cold fingers trailing her skin torturously as he sought warmth from her body.
At dawn, Wednesday found herself in the middle of a dream so visceral it felt like a vision.
She and Tyler were at the graveyard behind her childhood home, a child in each arm as one led them through the high grasses towards the furthest tomb.
Tyler threw the child in his arms up high in the air, catching them midway as they both laughed, the echoes of their giggles carried by the nearby trees.
"The ghost of my Aunt Calpurnia is going to rise through the ground and send a gust of wind straight beneath him," the older version of herself said, "then we'll see whose laughing."
"Your mommy is so morbid," future Tyler replied, holding their son's face close to his own before nudging their noses together adorably.
Future Wednesday halted, kicking her husband lightly in the ankle. "What did I say about the children referring to me as 'mommy'? I will not have that."
The child in her own arms brought a curious finger to touch her cheek. "Mommy," she said innocently.
"Great," Wednesday replied deadpan, leaning slightly away from her daughter's sticky hands. "Now look what you've done."
Tyler laughed, then Theo, then Annabel, and soon even Wednesday was hiding back a smirk as their raven-haired daughter danced among the wildflowers.
"Mama! If we dig up Nero will we find his exoskeleton?" the girl called out.
"Unfortunately not, amorina. I am afraid he was smushed to bits."
She blinked once before smiling wide. "Cool!"
Wednesday woke up in a cold sweat, sitting upright as she steadied her breathing. Tyler stirred next to her, turning from his side onto his back, his eyelashes fluttering open.
"Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, his voice raspy with sleep.
"Terrifying."
Tyler hummed, moving his arm across his wife's waist before pulling her back towards him. "Your favorite," he said with a smile, lips pressing lightly against her shoulder.
Wednesday was quiet in contemplation, her brows furrowed with confusion.
She had never thought for more than a few minutes about being a mother. She reasoned that her decision to remain childless was mostly because of issues with her own Mother, along with her desire to remain as independent and entanglement-free as possible. She could reason it with the idea that bringing children into the world given its current state especially as it relates to the environment, being irresponsible. But in reality, she could not justify it beyond the list of things at the very top of her head.
Wednesday watched Tyler with his patients, giving high fives before appointments, keeping various candies, stickers, and small tchotchkes in his office drawer to reward every child, and bawling into her chest on days where he had to deliver bad news. She knew that he kept the picture of the first child he had ever lost in his wallet as motivation to keep going and be better, his success rate now being 99.89% percent, one he worked immensely hard for.
Tyler pressed gentle kisses along her exposed neck as he assured her, "it was just a dream, go back to sleep."
And she obeyed, her eyes closing as she leaned into his hold, drifting into a dreamless sleep.
The next month, the couple were in San Francisco visiting Enid who had recently delivered her second baby just eleven months after the first.
Wednesday seethed through her teeth upon hearing the news of her pregnancy "If he doesn't stay off of her-"
Tyler snorted. "Like we have any room to talk."
"Two children in less than a year is inconceivable!" she argued.
"I'd argue that things were in fact conceived."
"You are insufferable," Wednesday said, standing to make her way into the kitchen and brew herself an earl grey.
Now she watched as Tyler stood over the baby's bassinet, waving to the sleeping child like an idiot who had no concept that the infant couldn't see him.
"You wanna hold him?" Enid asked, bouncing her one year old on her hip.
"I don't wanna wake him," Tyler whispered back.
"Don't worry," Enid assured. "He sleeps like a rock. Just like his father." She delivered the latter statement with a loving eye roll.
Tyler leaned down to scoop the child up, bringing him into the crook of his arms.
"Wow," he said softly, holding the baby with such delicacy Wednesday was almost jealous. "Hey buddy. I'm your good friend Uncle Tyler!"
He used his index finger to graze the baby's hand until it was clutched around him tightly. "That's your Auntie Wednesday. She looks pretty spooky, but I promise you, she's very nice. She loves your mommy very much and I am sure you will be no different."
Enid clutched at her heart at the sight of her son in Tyler's arms.
"You're such a natural, Tyler," Enid offered.
"It's part of the job," he shrugged.
"I think you'd be an amazing dad," she said again, before catching what she just said and immediately shutting her mouth. She looked at Wednesday guiltily before swallowing. "Sorry, not to put any pressure on you guys at all."
Tyler gave an assured smile at her, then his wife, before glancing down at the baby. If she weren't mistaken, Wednesday noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes.
After a long silence, Wednesday's voice was so quiet Enid and Tyler barely missed it.
"You're right," she said. "He would be."
When they arrived home, Wednesday stepped out of the shower to find Tyler in bed, going over some patient notes he had brought home.
"Thought we had a rule about no work in the bedroom," she teased. They had come to the agreement after Wednesday had pinned pictures of severed heads to their side wall, and Tyler suffered brief erectile dysfunction at their influence, his thoughts haunted by forcibly removed eyeballs, stitched mouths and broken noses. From that day on, they had agreed to leave work at work.
"Sorry," he apologized, fumbling the pages together messily and moving to put them back in the manila folder in his briefcase.
Wednesday pulled on a t-shirt before braiding her hair and climbing into bed.
"What is it about this case that's bugging you?" she asked, her attention fully on him, her bottom against her ankles.
Tyler exhaled deeply before rubbing his temples.
"There's this kid with textbook symptoms, but no family history whatsoever. I even had my guy in outcast genealogy take a look at it. I have a feeling there's some level of infidelity somewhere in the family tree... but I have no idea how to even approach that conversation."
His hand reached out to trace Wednesday's knee. "And there's always a family history for Hydes?" she asked.
"Yeah, somewhere it always comes down to genetics."
She nodded, her lips slightly pursed. She was quiet for a moment weighing her words before speaking.
"Are you ever concerned about that happening with us?"
Tyler looked genuinely taken aback. "God, no! I know you would never do that to me."
Wednesday rolled her eyes. "Not the infidelity part. The part about having little tiny Hydes running around thanks to your genetics."
"Oh," Tyler said, his eyes trailing away slightly. "No, I've never really thought about it."
She shifted in her seat slightly. "You've never thought about having children with me?"
"Well, not really," Tyler said, his hand moving through his hair the way he did when he was nervous. "I've kinda been waiting for you to bring it up. I figured if it was something you wanted, you'd say so."
Wednesday opened her mouth before closing it again. "I think your contribution to this discussion is valuable."
Tyler smiled, and reached to take her hand in his.
"I appreciate that. Really. But I also know asking you to put your body through that is a lot. We don't have to have kids. I like our life as it is. But yeah, of course would want to have children with you. To have a family." He squeezed her hand.
She thought for a moment before lifting herself up and onto his lap, straddling his thighs.
"Then let's get started," she said, her eyes meeting his. "You can put your breeding kink to good use."
Tyler was shocked at her initiative, but scoffed, feigning indignance. "I do not have a breeding kink!"
Wednesday's mouth found his neck as she ground herself against him fiercely. "How dare you try to gaslight your wife."
In less than two months, Wednesday found herself pregnant, nerves running through her like wildfire at the realization, her cycle especially late and her urine test positive. It hadn't hit her until that moment how all-encompassing motherhood seemed, the thought of having a little alien growing inside of her equal parts terrifying and exciting.
Tyler dropped to his knees in the kitchen when she told him later that night, hugging her tightly and pressing his lips above the skin of her abdomen.
"I love you so much," he said, his mouth against her still flat stomach, his eyes glistening. "I love you too, my little gremlin." he said, looking up at Wednesday.
She rolled her eyes before tugging at his curls with her free hand as she smiled at him, her other hand stirring their soup with a wooden spoon.
"Would you get up and stop your fawning?" she teased. "It's beneath even you."
He smirked before teasing the bottom of her skirt with his fingers. "I thought you liked me on my knees for you."
She put down the ladle and leaned against the counter. "Then make yourself useful."
His mouth bit at the inside of her thigh as she gasped. They had nine, well, eight months left to satiate their sex drive and christen every ounce of the house they were soon to share, that was unless pregnancy hormones made her suddenly disgusted by her husband's perfect body and massive c-
Well, she was only human after all.
They waited six weeks to tell her parents, though Wednesday was sure her mother had suspected, pulling out some of Wednesday's old baby items and stroking them fondly, attributing her finding them to "cleaning out the attic." They hadn't kept sentimental items in the attic, knowing bats often frequented and made themselves at home in their storage bins. Wednesday ignored her mother, though Tyler cooed at how sweet her first dress was, her toy bat that she beheaded over a dozen times.
At the Addams family dinner table, Wednesday cleared her throat briefly before tapping her water glass with her knife.
"I've decided it was time to inform you that I am now with child. We are expecting our little Galpin-Addams spawn sometime mid-April."
Gomez threw his hands up into the air in celebration, Morticia stifling a sob as she touched Tyler's shoulder. "My congratulations to you both, darling."
They cheered, asking Lurch to find their oldest and finest scotch to celebrate. "An Aries child," Morticia hummed pleasantly to herself. "How wonderful."
Pugsley was still attending university, but Wednesday made a note to tell him after she gave birth. He would be all too excited to have another child to torture, running rings around their poor infant and scaring them into temporary paralyzation. The last thing he needed was more time to start plotting.
The pair visited Tyler's father in Vermont for a celebratory dinner in honor of his formal retirement from the Jericho County Sheriff's Office.
They visited often, almost twice a month when they both had ample time off. Tyler had preferred the New England woods for hunting, allowing the Hyde to fill his primal need for blood on nearby wildlife, various kinds of species unavailable in their part of New York.
"It's pretty amazing that you're retired now," Tyler said, his hand gripping his glass anxiously. "But I wonder how you feel about getting a new job?"
The man laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion as he threw his napkin back onto his lap. "Uhh... I don't know. You got something in mind?"
"We were thinking maybe... grandpa?" Tyler started, glancing proudly at his glowing wife who was progressing through her pregnancy beautifully. She was truly stunning, finally past the first trimester morning sickness that made her absolutely miserable to be around. "Part-time babysitter?"
Galpin Senior nearly fainted, his head spinning wildly. He directed his cutlery, pointing at Tyler, then Wednesday before his tone became serious.
"You kiddin' me?"
Wednesday shook her head, both hands gravitating to the growing bump that was starting to show. "Serious as the dead."
"Get out of here!" the man proclaimed, getting up to bring Tyler into a hug before giving Wednesday a gentle pat. He knew she wasn't the biggest fan of physical contact and respected that, giving only as much as she would take. "I didn't know if this was something you guys even wanted. I gotta say I am pretty surprised."
"I don't think we knew either," Tyler said, his smile widening, moving to grab at his wife's hand. "Until of course, we did."
Wednesday rolled her eyes and kicked her husband from under the table for being such a smart ass.
"I'm beginning to regret it now," she teased back, taking a sip of her juice.
Enid was undoubtedly the most excited, screeching into the phone when Wednesday told the girl.
She had already pulled the phone at least eight inches away from her ear drum in anticipation for Enid's reply, rolling her eyes affectionately at her former roommate's genuine enthusiasm.
"I'm so happy for you, Wednesday" she cried. "Maybe when our kids grow up they will be roommates at Nevermore too!"
Wednesday cringed at the thought. "Perhaps," she said, attempting to meet the girl halfway. "If we manage to keep them alive for the next fourteen years."
"Don't be morbid," Enid snarked, her now toddler crying in the back. "Did I tell you I'm pregnant again too?"
Wednesday huffed, "Do I need to purchase contraceptive on your behalf like I did for you in high school? Do you not have a nearby pharmacy?"
"We're down the block from one actually. But I'd rather pop them all out in one go then wait for my eggs to dry up."
"Now whose being morbid," Wednesday teased. She missed her friend, though she loathed to admit it.
She could barely imagine living with one werewolf until she did, and now her friend had successfully bred three. A full house of lycanthropes, and she doubted Enid would stop any time soon, as crazed for her partner as the day she met them.
Wednesday's pregnancy was tolerable, the only irritating thing about it being the difficulty she faced in the later stages, no longer able to reach down to pick things up that she dropped, and being completely unable to see her feet. She huffed in agitation as Tyler tied her shoelaces before they left for work, feeling like a child once again to not be able to do things independently.
She worked until her third-trimester, her latest investigation ending sufficiently and another not appearing before her agreed upon maternity leave began. She had ample time to secure a fourth publisher and put out a duology separate from her Viper de la Muerte series.
Tyler doted on her somewhat annoyingly, rubbing her feet at every given opportunity and preparing her favorite meals despite her being fully capable. He held her hair back in the beginning when morning sickness hit, and memorized the proper dosages of her grandmama's secret herbal recipe for labor preparation: okra water, red raspberry leaves, and evening primrose oil. Wednesday took them in stride, swallowing every drop despite its sickeningly sweet flavor.
The first time she felt her unborn child stir within her, a shock ran through her body: curiosity, intrigue, and... affection? The fetus enjoyed her cello playing, preferring a slow, calming melody instead of her favored compositions.
"Your child is very boring," Wednesday remarked to Tyler, disappointed in the fetus's taste in music.
He smiled as he chopped vegetables, his gaze downwards in focus. "Our child is perfect. You shush."
It was in fact developing well, Wednesday's obstetrician praising the baby's growth.
"Would you like to know the gender?" she had asked, smiling as she printed ultrasound photos from the sonogram.
Wednesday scowled at the woman, moving to tuck down her tank top. "We are not one of those insipid couples looking to announce it with explosive devises, causing a perpetual forest fire that decimates the environment and increases our carbon footprint by twelve percent."
Tyler smiled at the woman kindly. "No thank you. Wednesday doesn't exactly trust the accuracy of the reading, and we don't really care either way."
Wednesday scoffed, rubbing at the jelly across her enlarged mid section. "Absolutely no wiggle room to include the possibility of intersex characteristics. Why on earth would I be holding out anticipation to learn which genitals are or are not attached?"
In the end, Wednesday wound up delivering in her own childhood bedroom, going into labor at her family's spring harvest party, the spice of the meal (and definitely not the sex she and Tyler had been having since her sex drive returned) likely to blame for inducing her labor.
Tyler held her hand as she breathed through the contractions, delivering on her hands and knees while her Mother and Grandmama helped guide the child through her birth canal. She had ignored the tightening muscles throughout the day, writing them off as Braxton-hicks or otherwise too early. It appeared that she was wrong, and she accepted that reality in stride.
The pain wasn't nearly as excruciating as Wednesday had hoped, but she struggled nonetheless, uncomfortable and aching to have this baby removed from the host of her body imminently. She gave gentle pushes when asked, then stronger pushes, adjusting her angling to allow gravity to do most of the work.
Soon, her mother was praising her. "That's it darling. We're almost there. There's definitive crowning."
Tyler squeezed her hand and kissed it gently. "I love you so much, Wednesday. You're doing so well."
She felt exhausted, but gave another push at the last contraction and suddenly she heard the amazed gasps of her mother, grandmother and husband. She glanced down to see the infant she had just delivered below her, covered in white vernix, and still attached by the umbilical cord.
Wednesday exhaled deeply as oxytocin rushed through her, overwhelming her senses entirely.
Tyler was crying, his mouth buried against her forehead as he praised her. "You're incredible. I cannot believe how strong you are."
He continued, tears falling against her scalp. "You did it, Wednesday. She's here."
"She?" Wednesday breathed, absorbing the silence in the room anxiously, expecting to hear the child wail.
"You have the most beautiful baby girl," her mother greeted warmly, holding the baby bundled in a soft woven blanket that had been in the family for generations. "Congratulations my little storm cloud."
"She's not crying?" Wednesday asked, concerned.
"No, she's alert and breathing normally, let out an initial cry but it seems we have interrupted her very important nap."
Tyler chuckled, his eyes immediately welling up with more tears before reaching for their daughter.
"Let's take care of the afterbirth," her mother instructed, moving Wednesday slightly to prepare her for the delivery of her placenta. "Let Tyler handle the baby."
Her placenta was delivered in tact, and grandmama took it away promptly to have it prepared for placentophagy. It was tradition for them to dry the placenta and consume it to ward off infections, anemia, as well as postpartum depression. Tyler had cringed upon having it explained to him, but trusted that the Addams' knew best about everything and never said a word in argument.
When Wednesday was officially finished with her delivery, she requested to rest comfortably next to her husband and child.
They laid her comfortably in the bed, and she passed out promptly.
Wednesday awoke to a shrill wail coming from the chair next to her.
Tyler was seated, holding their newborn daughter, who clearly decided her designated nap time was over, against his shirtless skin. He stood abruptly, leaning over towards Wednesday and lowering the baby into her arms, tucking the blanket around her.
"She's amazing," Tyler cooed, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I cannot think of anything more important that you could have ever given me. Thank you."
Wednesday brought her fingers to brush against her daughter's cheek, the baby now quiet and happily in the arms of her mother. The child was still flushed from the trauma of birth, vernix still coating her inner eyes and nose. It was best not to bathe the baby for at least twenty four hours, she'd read, to protect the particularly vulnerable skin.
She smiled before grabbing Tyler's hand. "Thank you."
The sight of her daughter beneath her, sleeping soundly tucked against her breast made her feel crazed with a possessiveness she couldn't begin to understand. She wanted nothing more to stay like this, the infant in her arms safe and sound, away from the outside world and external threats. She knew in that moment if anything or anyone had ever even attempted to harm her daughter, they would meet a slow and agonizing end, their heads resting on pikes outside the Addams family home as trophies for their willful errors in judgement.
They'd decided on the name after a few days of going back and forth, nothing quite fitting.
Wednesday had offered Francoise, but it was rejected by Tyler who insisted their daughter was her own person.
One of Wednesday's favorite sonnets by Philip James Bailey came across her as she browsed the first-edition in her parents library, the baby fast asleep in her mother's arms.
The poem read, “for ivy climbs the crumbling hall to decorate decay.”
Upon reading, the infant let out a pleased noise, eyes opening to meet her mother's who was staring down affectionately.
"Ivy," Wednesday stated later that afternoon, her gaze meeting her husband's, who smiled at her in return and nodded.
"Perfect."
She was Ivy Lilith Galpin.
Wednesday had delivered in the middle of the night, denoting a special significance. Lilith had been a frontrunner in their discussions, meaning "of the night" and/or "night monster" and fit perfectly as her middle name.
Like the pernicious, invasive species she had been named after, little Ivy had caged her mothers heart with thick, variegated vines. It was almost unnatural how deeply connected Wednesday felt to her child, who she watched intently from the other side of the room as she slept.
She’d expected the infant to feel foreign to her, a tiny parasitic object having occupied the warm incubator of her body for thirty-eight total weeks. But she felt the opposite. When she held her daughter, she felt overwhelmed with affection, her cheeks flushing with warmth.
When Ivy cried out for her, it felt her heart was being wretched out from her chest. When another member of her family held her, Wednesday felt a fierce tug of discomfort, an alarm ringing in her mind. Uncle Fester had held the child, leaning a little too close for comfort (not close whatsoever) to the incinerator in the living room, and Wednesday nearly pulled a knife on her favorite Uncle, gripping the dagger in her sleeve and baring her teeth towards the man.
"If anyone is going to introduce my daughter to the pits of hellfire, it will be me."
Wednesday even dreamed of her when she slept, which fortunately was often as Ivy slept nearly twenty hours a day. The dreams were sweet, too sweet for Wednesday's liking, the child playing on her three-headed rocking-monster, humming along to her mother's cello, reaching for her in the meadow near their home.
Her affection grew for Tyler as well, who had now taken a generous paternity leave and was home to help with the intricacies of the fourth trimester. Watching him with their child made her want to produce dozens more, just to see the gleam in his eyes as he prepared bottles, changed diapers, and read books to a sleeping Ivy as he cradled her to sleep. He radiated with gratitude, expressing his appreciation for Wednesday incessantly, to the point of staunch annoyance.
The nursery in their home was decorated similarly to the rest of their home, dark stained flooring covered by a fluffy white rug, a vintage-style crib against the wall which was decorated in ivy decorated wallpaper. Wednesday had preferred the black and white version, though Tyler insisted on there being some color to the room for the baby's brain development, so the room was brightened with green.
They Tyler had accepted some old baby items from both of their parents, blanket that were worn beyond use, toys that belonged to the couple as infants, puzzles for enrichment and a hanging glider decorated with taxidermied bats and spiders. Tyler had insisted it would give the baby nightmares to hang it over her crib, so instead it hung from the ceiling, cascading down like a scary chandelier.
One night, when Wednesday was putting Ivy to bed, coaxing her to sleep, Tyler walked in, angling himself against the door to watch his wife, the mother of the miracle which perfectly fit into their little family, with amazement.
When the child was finally passed out, a tiny fist held against her face, her lips slightly parted, Wednesday sat back in her rocking chair, pulling the baby into her chest and bestowing a gentle kiss to their daughter's neck.
"You marvelous little thing," she said softly, her expression still firm as always. "How I loathe how much I love you."
Tyler chuckled, knocking against the door to announce his presence.
"Hey," he greeted.
"Hello," Wednesday replied rocking gently. "I was videochatting Enid before. She swore Ivy is my twin, despite the fact that she insisted the first-born child is often a mirror image of its biological father for the second half of my gestational period."
Tyler smiled, adjusting a stack of blocks that sat atop the baby's dresser.
"She does look just like you. All raven-haired and a sullen expression. Plus she is tiny."
Wednesday glared at him.
He leaned down to give her a kiss before whispering, "both of my girls are beautiful."
It was quiet for a moment as Wednesday leaned down to place their sleeping daughter in her crib.
"I hope your dreams are most eventful," she added with a whisper. "If anything should disturb you, I will sic your insidious father's other half to destroy them so brutally it makes nationwide headlines."
They tucked back into their room, Wednesday plopping herself onto the bed, her hands folded.
"You know," she added. "The bleeding has stopped."
Tyler shrugged off his tie, having stopped to the office briefly for some paperwork. "Yeah? I'm glad to hear it."
Wednesday stared at him. "Which means..." she swallowed. "We could... try again. For another."
Tyler turned on his heel, looking her dead in the face.
"The doctor said it's too soon."
She shrugged. "I know my own body better than that imbecile."
He chuckled at her reply, throwing the tie behind him.
"Look whose in a rush to have a second little monster now," Tyler teased. "After all that shit you were giving Enid."
Wednesday glared at him. "I have to admit, I found the process more..." she quirked her head, "satisfying than I'd anticipated."
Tyler walked over to his wife, tucking her hair behind her ear and pressing a kiss against her forehead.
"You don't know how badly I want you," he said. "Especially now, seeing everything you've been through... how incredible you are as a mother."
She leaned her face upwards, anticipating his mouth to meet her own.
"But being the medical professional in the household, I'm insisting on another two weeks. You deserve the rest."
Wednesday tucked her arms across her chest disdainfully. "Don't be surprised when your doctorate finds its way to the incinerator in your sleep."
Tyler chuckled, kissing his wife and the love of his life softly. "Oh, I'm counting on it."