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layniapetrovnaaa · 2 months ago

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Atticus Finch x Pregnant reader

You ever reread your work over so many times you cant even tell if you like anymore... yeahhh. lmk if this sucks i havent written in forever lol. Only four years late but here it is, thank you for requesting, and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, one swear word, lots of anxiety, idk its pretty tame but reader is written mad angsty. overall tho its pretty fluffy ig

word count: 4.9k (yikes)

***

First, it was the missed periods, then the swollen breasts and fatigue, and finally, the morning sickness. That's when you knew. It was definitely time to make that doctor's appointment to confirm your suspicions. You had hoped the kids and Atticus had not picked up on your bizarre symptoms, not because you didn't want them to know but because if it was true, you wanted to tell them in your own way and time.

You had finally finished emptying the contents of your stomach when there was a knock on the door. "Just a second!" you scrambled, trying to find the toothpaste. You heard Scout call your name in a long, drawn-out drawl. "Jem's hoggin' our washroom! I'm gonna be late for school!"

You put the toothbrush in your mouth, and the peppermint taste was somehow a relief while simultaneously almost triggering you to upchuck again. Gaining some composer, you opened the door and allowed her to come in.

You had married Atticus about a year ago after having known the family for a bit. You both wanted to make sure the new adjustment was suitable for the children before you came and settled into their home and lives. Their needs came first. Lucky for you and Atticus, Jem and Scout adored you. There was no replacing their mother, and none of you wanted that, but all of you were glad the children had a maternal figure in their lives (one who was not Alexandra Hancock). Not that Calpurnia wasn't there for the children, but there was only so much she could do for them, having a family of her own.

It had been a few years since the Tom Robinson trial. You hadn't been around for it but moved to Maycomb shortly after and quickly became close with the family. You had a job working as Atticus' secretary/assistant, and that's where it all began. Fast forward some years, and here you were as his lovely new wife. Things were simple; you'd keep up the house while your husband and the children worked and went to school. Going into town to do some shopping and keep up social pretenses. No one in the immediate family cared too much about how the town saw the Finchs, but it was a small community, and connections were important.

What would a new baby do to this routine? How would the children react? And Atticus, too? Never mind what Stephanie Crawford would think, or better yet, say. It didn't matter, at least not until you knew for sure. You spit out the toothpaste and rinse the brush as Scout fumbles in the cupboard for a towel.

"Well," Atticus drawls, standing in the bathroom doorway. "My two favorite girls. How are you this morning, Scout?"

"Good morning, Atticus!" she responds as she splashes water on her face, then aggressively dries it with a towel. You both chuckle at her intense antics. She quickly tells him she's doing fine this morning and rushes to her room to get dressed. You smile at your husband and turn to him to embrace him.

"And you, my dear, how are you on this fine morning?" His hands are on your waist, and all you can think about is how perfect this is…until you remember the missed periods, swollen breasts, fatigue, and morning sickness.

Atticus woke earlier than you most mornings, starting his day by readying himself in his office. Getting things together and finalizing paperwork. Once you and the kids awoke, he would join you in getting ready and having breakfast. While it did bother you somewhat that you woke up alone most mornings, you were grateful for it as of late. Truthfully, though, you didn't know how much it helped hide your symptoms since Atticus' office was right next to the bathroom. If he did know anything, he hadn't let on, and once again you were grateful. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was best for you before you did.

"I'm better now that you're here." You grin and lean in to give him a peck on the lips. As you do, Jem flies by but not without making a fake "UGH!" puking noise. Atticus shakes his head.

"Sooner than he realizes, he'll understand." He sighs with a small smile and separates from you. Jem was really starting to come into the throes of his teenage years. It was not as bad as you remember your brother's being, but you knew the transition was hard on him and Scout, for that matter. Scout was still very much a kid and probably always would be at heart. Jem, however, was beginning to act more and more like his father (aside from his occasional outbursts).

Atticus starts on his routine of freshening up when he asks what you have planned for the day.

"Well, I have to drop that pie recipe off to Maudie, and we need more flour."

You debated telling him about your plan to drop by Dr. Reynolds's office but figured you should in case he happened to run into him or if he tried to call home and you weren't there. "I also have to stop by Dr. Reynolds later." You hoped he wouldn't ask, but frankly, you would be upset if he didn't either. He stops and turns to you.

"Are you feeling alright?" You could see the concern on his face and hadn't even considered the possibility of him remembering the tragedy of his late wife. And now you felt like crying, Christ almighty, you needed to get it together.

"I'm fine, Atticus. Just a check-up, no need to worry." You make eye contact in the mirror and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You know I do."

***

"Well, Mrs.Finch, your suspicions are correct. You're pregnant."

You let out a deep breath at that, and you weren't sure if it was one of relief or anxiety. It was good to know what you practically already knew, but the thought of having to now break the news to the family was more than anxiety-inducing.

"It's a little too early to tell exactly how far along you are, but I would say right around two months." The doctor says as he packs his tools back up. "Make sure you're getting enough rest and eating enough. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but pregnancy can take a lot out of ya."

You nod, even though you weren't really listening.

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Reynolds," you stand. "Please say nothing to Atticus or the children. They don't know about any of it yet."

"You have my word." He smiles. "We should schedule an appointment for your next visit. I'd like to check up on you every couple of weeks. It's recommended at the very least once a month."

You nod again and follow him to the front desk to schedule your next appointment.

On your way home, you thought of all the ways to break the news to Atticus. You'd think about the kids later; he would know best how to tell them. You were worried, to say the least. It wasn't just the shift in dynamics that was nerve-wracking; it was also the fact that it was no secret that Atticus was older, and he was starting to feel increasingly more his age each day. Having a new baby in his fifties was probably not something he had planned on. You two had talked about children once or twice, not censuring or encouraging the thought of having a baby of your own, but it was never something either of you had given too much thought to considering your husband's age. And now here you are.

Thank God you had gotten your errands out of the way before your doctor's visit. You were practically out of commission now, having burnt the roast you were supposed to have for lunch. Atticus and the children were supposed to be home any minute now, so there was no time to fix something new. You did your best to salvage what was left of the lunch and set the table for the four of you, trying to allow yourself to picture a fifth setting.

You hear the door and pull yourself out of your daydreams. The children, of course, come bursting through. Contradictory, Atticus follows calmly after them, removing his hat and greeting you with a kiss.

"How was your visit with Dr. Reynolds?" he asks. The two of you are alone in the kitchen now. Jem and Scout were clearly starved, having already sat at the table and started dishing out their food, no doubt earning a scolding from their father when he eventually would sit down for lunch. They knew better than to start eating, at least.

"All healthy, but there is something I need to tell you." You twist and pull your fingers nervously. "Later, tonight."

He would have looked almost impassive to someone unfamiliar with his mannerisms and expressions, but you could see the concern and curiosity in your husband's eyes. All of the doctor talk must have made him nervous, but then his eyes flicked down to your stomach and back to yours, and you felt your heart leap. You took his hand despite your nervousness. "Let's go have some lunch."

***

You were in bed now, and you still had not told Atticus. After your short conversation in the kitchen earlier that day, he refrained from asking again about the visit to Dr. Reynolds, though that didn't mean he had stopped thinking about it. Despite your husband's stoic disposition, he tended to worry quite a bit, part of the reason why his ulcers were constantly acting up. This was a sliver of why you had not told him when he came home for lunch, when he returned from work, or after dinner. The main reason– which you knew but didn't want to admit– was that you were scared. You continued pretending to read your book, but you should have thought about the decades of experience Atticus had as a lawyer.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly, not looking up from his literature.

"Nothin'. Just readin’.” You quickly dismissed but cringed at your lack of courage.

"You haven't flipped a page in 15 minutes." And you realize you're caught.

He finally turns to you and takes your book, setting it down with his own. He takes your hand, giving it a long kiss while he looks at you somewhat expectantly. The kiss, you could tell, was meant to reassure you. He would never force you to discuss your visit, but you told him you needed to talk with him and wanted to be true to your word. He finally releases his mouth from your hand, and you give him a small smile. Timidly though, you look away and try your hardest to have faith that this will all be okay.

"What is it, sweet?"

You let out a small sigh and turn your focus back to him.

"Atticus?" you sounded like a child.

"Yes?"

"I'm pregnant."

Your voice was thick. The silence that followed was heavy, and you couldn't help but hold your breath.

He had broken eye contact with you, but his grip on your hand was firm. He raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath, turning his head to stare down the end of the bed frame as he let it out. There was another pause, and then slowly, the corners of his mouth started to turn up and a grin came on his face as he shook his head slightly.

"That's what you were so mighty worked up about tellin' me?"

"Devil." was all you said as you crossed your arms. He chuckles, placing his now vacant hand on your leg.

"The way you were behavin' had me worried you were one foot in the grave." He tried to joke, but you could tell he was serious. "I've known about you feeling sick. I assumed that's what the visit was for, though somehow I didn't even consider the possibility of you being with child. I suppose it's been a while."

"I didn't mean to worry you." You spoke softly, unfolding your arms and risking a glance at him. He nods faintly, accepting your silent apology. He had yet to react to the news, so you were still a bit apprehensive.

"What are we gonna do?" you finally ask.

"How do you mean?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, this isn't exactly something we planned on." you shrugged.

"While it is quite the surprise, I must say it's not uncalled for, my dear." He gives you a knowing glance, which you can't help but give a small smile back to. Perhaps the two of you would have been more cautious if it was such an unwanted thing. Somehow, this was the first time you had thought of this, and while it did slightly ease your nerves, you still wanted to know what he thought of all of this and what you were going to do about it.

He says your name seriously. "Do you want this baby?"

In all the time you had spent worrying about what Atticus and the children would think, you hadn't even stopped to consider how you truly felt about the situation. It didn't take you long, however. The thought of a mini version of the two of you running around with their older siblings had already convinced you.

"I do."

"Then it's settled." He smiles, and so do you. He brings you in for a kiss, and you feel the weight of your secret roll off your shoulders. When he pulls away, you can finally see his excitement get the better of him. "Do you know how far along you are?"

"The doctor said about two months, but he can't be sure until I'm a little further along. I have an appointment for next month." It feels good to tell him these things. Somehow, you can't believe you were so worked up before, especially now that he hasn't stopped smiling.

It had been about six months since you had found out about your being with child. Things had gone on as usual for the first few months after the morning sickness subsided– relatively speaking. About a week after you told Atticus, the two of you took the children into town after supper and got them ice cream, trying to lessen the blow. Scout was excited right away, but it took a bit for Jem to come around, and you couldn't blame him. He was never cold to you; Atticus respected you, therefore, he did as well. Besides that, there was no denying all the support you had given him the last few years. He just seemed nervous, you all were, but you could tell there was something specific bothering him.

It was not unusual for the children to talk about their mother, and it never bothered you; most often, you encouraged it. Even before Scout confessed on his behalf, you had an inkling that his timidness about the new baby had something to do with his mother. You empathized with him; not only was their father having another child, but Jem was also more than a decade older than this baby. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you didn't want to ever make him feel unwanted. You had spoken to Atticus about this one night after Jem was particularly quiet during dinner; Scout, on the other hand, took the whole meal talking about how she was going to show the new baby all her favorite things.

"I think you might need to talk with Jem." You spoke up from your vanity as you brushed your hair. It was late; the children had gone to bed already, and you and your husband were settling in for the night. Atticus was undressing on the other side of the room, but you could see him behind you in the mirror. He hummed as he continued to put away his clothes.

"I think it has to do with his mother." You said much more quietly this time.

"Jem is like I am, is all. He needs time to sit with this new information and settle into how he feels about it." He spoke matter-of-factly. "He'll come around. He just needs time." He says with a little more tenderness as he comes up behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. Atticus knew his kids better than you did, so you were not one to argue with him about how he dealt with these kinds of situations. He could still see the concern and apprehension on your face as you continued brushing the same spot you had been for the last five minutes. So, as he swoops down to plant a dry kiss on your temple he says softly that he'll talk with him.

After supper one night, Scout had been told to wash up for bed early, and the three of you sat in the living room. You sat silently, listening to Jem and his father talk. You could tell he felt a little lighter after a progressive conversation about how he regarded the situation. You had remained silent for the most part but assured him this baby would never replace him, Scout, or the place that his late mother still had in the house. You also made sure he knew that if he had any questions or concerns, all he had to do was ask.

Now, here you were at eight months, feeling like you were about to pop. Everything was a struggle now. It was hard to get comfortable, and being so pregnant in the summertime in the south was no easy feat. You had become practically incapacitated and cried to Atticus one Sunday morning before church that this would be your first and only pregnancy after not a single pair of shoes fit your swollen feet. He tried his best not to find humor in your drama and told you to stay home that morning and that he would return later with a proper pair of footwear for you. What would you do without that man? Most days, he helped you dress and prepare the nursery. You felt spoiled knowing how hard he worked in addition to coming home to work some more on the room or assisting you with tasks you could no longer complete alone. He never once complained; every time you asked him about it, he would simply smile, give you a quick kiss, and assure you that he was happy to help. The man was a godsend.

It seemed that the last month or two of the pregnancy dragged on. This baby never wanted to come out, you thought to yourself when you woke up one morning. Atticus was already in his office, gathering his things for work that day. It was summer, the kids had no school, and you could hear Scout outside talking across the street to Miss Maudie. She was still staying with Stephanie Crawford. When asked if she was ever going to find a new home or place to stay, Maudie would simply roll her eyes and say it was better for her and Stephanie that she stick around. Though she never explicitly said, it was apparent that the two ladies didn't want to be alone. While Stephanie Crawford was not your first choice for help if you went into labor and Atticus was not home, it did bring some comfort that there were so many women close by to you during this time.

You had gotten ready for the day and dressed as best you could before heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. Atticus and Jem sat at the table reading the paper; Scout had just returned from outside and was fixing herself a plate. You greeted them all with a good morning as well as Cal and thanked her for the scrumptious-smelling breakfast she had prepared. While Atticus was definitely a godsend in all of this, Calpurnia felt like God herself. She had been with you every step of the way when your husband could not be. Any strange symptom, she would reassure you; any craving– she would whip something up right away. She knew all the tips and tricks for getting on dresses with too many buttons or sleeping comfortably. There was nothing she couldn't do, and you swore this pregnancy would have been the end of you if she wasn't there.

After finishing the section he was reading in the paper, Atticus rose from his seat and came over to you, offering to get your breakfast together so you could sit down. You thanked him with a small peck and heard Scout whisper to Jem that all you two do is kiss. He quickly told her to hush and returned to his paper (not because he disagreed, he just wanted to read the paper in peace). You couldn't help but chuckle as you walked over to sit beside her. She asked you how you were feeling as Atticus set down the plate before you and returned to his seat.

"Scout, I swear this baby oughta to get here soon or I'm done for." You responded, circling a hand over your full-term belly. The look on her face makes you remember the girl had never really been around many pregnancies before, and so quickly you add, "I'm like an overfilled balloon!" so as to not alarm her so much. It seems to work as she giggles slightly and takes another bite of her food, and you do as well. Something you did not tell her about, though, was the cramping feelings you were getting this morning. You had false contractions before (the last two months, to your misery) and so you didn't really think anything of it. Boy, were you in for a surprise.

As Scout finishes her breakfast and Jem with the paper, they declare they will be at Barker's Eddy to meet some friends and cool off on this hot summer day. When Atticus asks how they will be getting there and if they need a ride, they inform him that one of the boys on Jem's football team had gotten their license and would be picking them up. He tells them to be careful, and they run to their rooms to get their things. As they do, you feel another contraction coming on and brace yourself for the pain. After it subsides, Atticus asks if you're okay, to which you grumble and wave him off. He chuckles and goes back to reading the paper. Those boys and their goddamn paper, you think to yourself. The two of you make light conversation as you finish up your breakfast. You stand to take the plates from the table when you feel, yet again, another contraction. These were starting to become regular, every 20 minutes or so. It's just as you come to this realization that you feel a trickle down your leg. Your water had broken.

"Atticus…" you call to him in a shaky breath. "I think my water just broke."

He's out of the chair and next to you before you can even blink, coaxing you to sit down and hurriedly saying he's going to call the doctor. It all felt like it was happening so fast.

You had waited, obsessed, and waited some more for this day to come, and it was finally here. The times when you and your husband stayed up too late talking about what the baby would look like or fixing up the nursery were finally over, and the day was here. You thought the baby would be a boy with his father's disposition, similar to Jem. Atticus disagreed and assured you it would be a little girl with dark hair like Scout. You'd be finding out soon.

Your daughter was born July 26th at one in the morning. She was 6.13 pounds, 20 inches long, and perfect. So absolutely perfect. Atticus had been by your side every step of the way until the delivery (not by choice; the doctor recommended it, and truth be told, you were a little glad he didn't have to see you in that state). He was back in the room to meet your daughter as soon as possible; you'd never seen him look so giddy. He comes and sits next to you on the bed, the entire time admiring the little girl bundled in your arms. He cradles her little head in his hand as you offer her to him, the tight-lipped smile he had never leaving his face.

You place your daughter in his arms, she stirs and coos slightly as you do. Once the two of them are settled in, he wraps an arm around you and kisses you on the forehead.

"I'm so proud of you." He says quietly so as to not disturb the baby. You take his hand resting on your shoulder and lean further into him, both of you never once taking your eyes away from the little girl.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

The two of you sit there in peace for a short while, taking in the moment as much as you can. Soon, he hands the baby back to you and declares that it's time for Scout and Jem to come meet her. He promised to keep their visit relatively short as you were hardly hanging on to consciousness at this point.

The children had gone to bed a few hours ago as it was late, and it was hard to tell how soon it would be before the baby came. They had gotten quite the shock when they came home from swimming to hear your cries and screams from the bedroom. They had wanted to see you and make sure you were okay but instead had been told to busy themselves helping Calpurnia and getting things ready for the next few days as your time would be taken up with all things baby. Atticus made sure to inform you that they were quite concerned for you and very anxious about meeting their younger sibling.

At first, they enter the room groggy, but as soon as Scout sees you, she books it for the bed. Atticus tells her to calm herself and not to spook the baby. He walks with Jem over to the bed, his hand resting on his son's shoulder. Jem and Scout admire the child momentarily before they start asking about her. You tell them it's a baby girl and how much she weighs, how she doesn't have a name quite yet, and yes, they can hold her. You scoot over on the bed and make room for Scout, tiredly instructing her on how to position her arms. Atticus had moved to be by her side at this point, it was the first time she had ever held a baby.

"Hey there, little one." She coos to the baby, running her index finger over the infant's soft cheek. "Nice to finally meet you. You got hair like mine!" she says sincerely before turning to you and exclaiming in a whisper: I knew it would be a girl! You chuckle at that, and her father does as well. Atticus was right, go figure.

"You're a big sister now, Miss Jean Louise." You spoke as you softly stroked her hair.

She held the baby for a few more minutes before passing her over to Jem.

His reaction was much more subtle than Scout's, but the little smile that remained on his face and the look in his eye was enough validation for you. He wouldn't stop staring at her; you couldn't blame him.

Much to your dismay, you were starting to drift off to sleep. It had been a very long day, and your body was exhausted. Atticus noticed this and made his way to take the baby from Jem. As he did, you regained consciousness long enough to see the boy place a very gentle kiss on her head. You couldn't help but lazily smile at the interaction.

The children bid you goodnight and return to their rooms, already giggling and chatting about their new sibling.

You motion for Atticus to give you the baby after he closes the door behind them, but he shakes his head instead.

"I'll take care of her for now, sweet. We'll be alright." He let out a small sigh and gave the little girl a tight-lipped smile; you could tell he was also tired. "Rest, you need it."

You were too tired to argue. "Let me give her a kiss goodnight." He obliges and leans down so you can gently kiss her head.

"And one for you too."

You guide him down to you by his tie and press your lips to his. It was a long road to get here, but you made it, elated to have your little family. The moment ends shorter than you would have liked but you tell him thank you, and with that, you allow yourself to drift into slumber.

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