She is asleep before you have a chance to ask any of the questions that are swirling through your mind. You wonder how she is feeling, how far along she is, and how this could have possibly happened, but when her breathing gradually evens and she grows heavy in your arms, you know everything will have to wait until morning. She is clearly exhausted and has every right to be.

Because she's pregnant. Again. Pam. Your Pam. Your best friend. Your beautiful, funny, amazing wife is pregnant with your second child, and you are beside yourself with joy because you are going to be a dad again. Again. You have Pam and your sweet little girl, and now there will be a third person to love, and really, how the hell did you get to be this lucky? Your life is awesome.

You could hold her like this forever, stroking her hair and soaking up every little detail just like you did the first time this happened, but when she twitches against you, signaling her entry into a deep sleep, it seems like it is probably the time to let her rest in a more comfortable position. She is a little tense when you lay her down, slip off her glasses, and pull the sheet up to her chin, but in the coming days and weeks, you will fix that. Right now, she is scared, but you are so indescribably grateful to her for giving you this that you will do absolutely anything to make it easier on her, anything that will show her just how appreciative you are and how much you love her.

Admittedly, you're a little scared, too. You weren't expecting to have to budget for a family of four for at least another couple of years, and if there is one thing you've learned from Cecelia, it's that kids are expensive. You kind of wanted to save up or find a better job before adding a fourth person to your family, and you know that Pam has always wanted to finish her art education degree. But now that can't happen, and you hate that you can't give your wife and kids everything. Still, with Sabre's no-caps-on-commission policy, you are pretty confident that you and Pam will at least be able to cover all the basics for your growing family. It isn't an ideal situation, and it is daunting, but you have each other, and you will make it work.

And besides, you're just too thrilled over your new son or daughter to really be worrying about anything just yet. It's actually making you feel a little bit light headed, but it's still one of the best damn feelings you have ever experienced.

Pam. Pregnant. A baby. Again.

You get to live through everything again: first ultrasound, first sign of a baby bump, first kicks, and that very first cry. You get to see your wife all glowing and pregnant and blushing when she catches your eyes at work. You get to see her face when she finally gets to hold that tiny, perfect baby in her arms. You get to experience new firsts, too—moments that you wouldn't have dared to imagine four years ago: Pam introducing Cecelia to her newborn sibling, Cecelia as a big sister, all four of you laying in bed on a Saturday morning as a family, and watching your kids grow with Pam by your side.

It's going to be great.

xx

The next morning wakes you with sun peeking in through the blinds, your daughter cooing over the monitor, and your wife bolting out of bed for the bathroom for round one of second-pregnancy morning sickness.

Or at least you hope it's round one because if it isn't, that means she has been getting sick for days all by herself.

"I'm here," you murmur softly, pulling her hair back just in time for her to lean over the toilet and lose what little was left in her stomach from last night. The back of her neck is sweaty, and she's shaking, and you remember that you absolutely hate this part because there really isn't anything that you can do.

For the next several minutes, though, you do your best—supporting her body with your own, offering her sips of water, and rubbing comforting circles on her back—until she finally collapses limply against your chest. She looks like she wants to cry, and you are at a loss as to what to say, so you wipe off her mouth, kiss her damp forehead, and simply ask:

"You okay now?"

Your intention was to sound comforting, but as soon as the words come out, you mentally kick yourself.

Of course she isn't okay. Pam has spent the last fourteen months either growing or feeding someone, and now there is no clear end in sight. She is very obviously miserable, and you feel like an idiot because she is the one who has to throw up for weeks, gain almost a quarter of her weight, and deal with mood swings, fatigue, and swollen everything for a second time while you just sit back, romanticize everything, and ask stupid, insensitive questions like 'Are you okay?'

"No," she sniffles.

Her tone practically tears your heart in two, and suddenly, you are overcome with guilt for doing this to her again so soon. You are so looking forward to meeting your new little boy or girl, but it's killing you to see Pam like this. She only just finished being pregnant, and now she has to do it all over again. You can't even begin to imagine the physical and emotional stress that back-to-back pregnancies would cause. It's no wonder she was so upset. And why couldn't you have understood that last night instead of just grinning like crazy and telling her everything would be okay?

You feel like an ass.

"Sorry. That was a really stupid question," you laugh sheepishly, and she mumbles in dismal agreement.

You want to say something that will make her feel better—something profound, something that will make her smile, something that will convey the extent of your feelings for her and the depth of your gratitude towards her for marrying you and giving you your children—but the words just aren't coming. And even if they did, you have a feeling that they wouldn't do any good right now.

"I know you aren't okay. I mean, you just finished up nine months of this, and to have to do it all again so soon? Pam, you're allowed to be a little freaked out. It wasn't easy on you the first time, and I'm sorry that you're not really getting a break here." You pause and wrap your arms more tightly around her before whispering in her ear, "But you're giving us a family."

She probably doesn't want to hear anything positive about the situation when she is in this state, but you couldn't help but throw that last part in. You are going to have two awesome kids, and Cece is going to have a friend for the rest of her life. When you were growing up, you didn't have anyone your age: Pete and Tom were six and seven years older, and Larisa (the original Halpert surprise) was eight years younger. But now your children will have a chance at the relationship that you wish you had with your siblings. They'll be close in age. They'll play together. They'll be each other's first friends. And when you and Pam are gone (as weird as it is to think about that), they'll have each other.

"Jim, I wanna lay down," she pleads in a tone that makes you ache even more. She seems unfazed by your words, and you decide to start planning something better in your head to say later. "I'm just so tired."

You press a kiss into her soft hair, and she curls even further into you, firmly burying her face into your chest as if trying to hide from the sickness or the whole situation itself.

Oh, this is breaking your heart.

"Do you need me to help you up or do you want me to get a pillow so you can lay here for a while?"

"I don't know."

She is trying so hard not to cry that her voice is strained, and you wish so much that there was no such thing as morning sickness (or all-day sickness, as was the case sometimes with Cecelia).

"Want me to carry you back to bed?"

She nods helplessly, and now you kind of want to cry as her arms loosely wrap around your neck and you carefully lift her off the cool tile floor. Slowly, you navigate the way back to the bed, and then you lay her back on her pillow just as delicately as you would if you were putting your daughter to sleep.

She gives you a weak smile through misty eyes, and you kiss her flushed cheek.

God, you love her so much.

"I'll go take care of Cece and make you some toast," you tell her because as much as you would like to just lay next to her all morning, Cecelia has been awake and quietly entertaining herself for at least the last twenty minutes, and she probably will not be silent for much longer. "Just rest, and I'll be back, okay? I've got everything under control."

xx

Upon arriving in Cecelia's room, your find your green-eyed little girl fully engrossed in the very serious task of trying to put her right foot in her mouth. She has pulled off her sock, successfully exposing the world's cutest little toes, and with each bit of concentrated effort, she makes a tiny baby grunt. Over the last several weeks, she has become so adorably fascinated by her own hands and feet, and you and Pam just love to watch her. In fact, if it weren't for Pam waiting across the hall, you would probably stand here watching for a few minutes.

"Do those toes taste good, buddy?"

At the sound of your voice, Cecelia lets go of her foot and releases an eager squeal when she turns to see you approaching her crib. Her eyes and smile are so wide that it's as if she hasn't seen you in days rather than mere hours, and it just gets you. Every. Single. Time. She may not be able to talk yet, but, her reaction to your presence on mornings like these is enough to tell you, loud and clear, that she loves you. It's a sentiment that you have been expressing to her since long before she was even born, and to actually see her reflecting it back is incredible.

She is incredible.

And soon, you guys will have another one.

"Hi, sweet pea," you coo as you lift her into your arms and plant kisses all over her little face, causing her to giggle and then nuzzle the space between your neck and shoulder. "You slept good last night, huh? Almost eight whole hours. Nicely done, kid."

You pat her diaper and find that she definitely needs a change, but she is so perfect with her spiky bed head, soft sheep-patterned lavender sleeper, and drool-coated fingers and toes that you really don't mind—you love this little girl to pieces.

"You're going to be our big girl, Cees," you tell her as you lay her back on her changing table. She kicks her legs and looks up at you with her big bright eyes, and you tap her nose to make her laugh because you just can't get enough of that little giggle that so resembles her mother's. "I'm a pretty lucky guy, you know that?"

xx

"Hey, we've got food."

"Hm? Jim, I don't feel good."

You have returned to the master bedroom with Cecelia and a plate of toast, but Pam has already managed to fall into a half-sleep. Curled up on her side with her eyes closed, she looks so pale and fragile, and her voice has a sad, childlike quality that just makes you want to put your daughter down and hold your wife instead. Alternatively, you settle for sitting beside her on the edge of the bed and lightly rubbing her back.

"Oh, Pam, I know. I know you don't, babe," you assure her gently, leaning down to push her hair out of her face and behind her ear with the hand that isn't supporting Cecelia. "But can you sit up for me? Cece and I brought you some toast, and that might help you feel a little better."

She grumbles incoherently and rolls onto her other side, giving the distinct impression that she just wants you to leave her alone, but as you begin to consider just letting her sleep, Cecelia lets you both know that she has other plans and begins to fuss.

"Has she eaten yet?" Pam mumbles into her pillow.

"That was actually next on the agenda," you answer, bouncing the baby in your arms. "Shh… come on, Cee. We've gotta take care of Mommy first, and then we can go downstairs again and get you a bottle."

"I can do it."

"No, I'll go. It's fine. You don't need to be running up and down stairs when you're sick."

"She doesn't need a bottle to eat, Jim." Pam turns over again and reaches for her glasses before you even realize what she is talking about. "Besides, I've completely thrown off her routine lately. She deserves at least one normal morning."

She sits up and pulls your pillow over on top of her own, creating a comfortable support for her to feed the baby. You've seen her do this nearly every day since Cecelia was born, but now you are curious as to how (or if) this sort of thing can work, considering the new circumstances.

"So, uh, it's okay to still do that?"

You aren't exactly sure why it wouldn't be, but something about your wife breastfeeding one baby while pregnant with another just doesn't seem... safe?

"Sure," she replies casually. You transfer the cranky infant into her arms, and as soon as the baby is settled, Pam's demeanor changes completely. "Good morning, pretty girl!"

She has a genuine smile on her face now, and you have to admit that you are a little jealous of your daughter for being able to evoke this kind of a reaction even when she is fussy and moments away from a screaming baby-meltdown.

You're also still curious about the whole eating thing.

"It won't, like, hurt the new baby? Or keep it from growing or something?"

"I just need to eat right and stay hydrated," she answers, her attention all on Cecelia who is wiggling impatiently against her chest. "I know, Cece. You're hungry. I know."

She begins to unhook her nursing tank top, prompting you to ask one more question.

"And it's okay for you and Cece, too?"

You are afraid that she might get upset, incorrectly assuming that your questions mean that you aren't confident in her skills and instincts as a mother, but instead, she waits a couple seconds and smirks.

"Well, I called my doctor's office and talked to a nurse. She said that it's fine, but if you want, we could always call Clark to double check. I'm sure we could find his number." She bites her lower lip and nudges you playfully, careful not to disturb Cecelia who still hasn't quite calmed enough to eat. "Do you want me to call Clark, Jim? I bet he would be more than happy to help. Remember how helpful he was before? Do you remember that?"

Ever since you confessed to having been sufficiently weirded out by her lactation consultant in the hospital, she loves to tease you. Sure, it's all in good fun and even mildly humorous in hindsight, but you can still feel your face and ears turning pink whenever it comes up. You have already decided on your own that if the new baby has trouble nursing, you're going to make a secret request for a specialist who is a female because, hey, Pam is your wife, and you don't want to witness some random guy touching her or talking about flicking one of her nipples ever, ever, ever again.

Ever.

You raise your eyebrows and let out a breath. "I do remember, actually."

"Yeah?" She looks pretty proud of herself for getting you a little frazzled. Her eyes are shining like they haven't in days, and it's encouraging to see her in a much better mood than she was in last night and even just minutes ago this morning.

"Yep, and I don't think we'll be needing his assistance." You kiss her forehead. "I trust you."

"You sure about that?" You lean down to kiss her again, but she pulls away and hisses in pain. "Ouch!"

"What?"

She winces and slips her little finger into the corner of Cecelia's mouth to break the suction, which the baby does not appreciate.

"Cece," she answers. "It… it hurts. I'm just really sore lately."

She adjusts herself and switches Cecelia to the other breast, inhaling sharply through her nose when the baby latches. You obviously have no idea what it physically feels like to be her right now, but Pam isn't a complainer. If she says it hurts, it hurts, and yet, despite this and the fact that she has experienced varying degrees of soreness in that particular region for more than a year now, her primary concern is still your daughter's well-being.

"I'm sorry."

You move to put an arm around her, and her face crumbles.

"I just don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to do this for her," she admits, finally allowing tears to spill down her face for the first time all morning before quickly brushing them away. "I-I-I just wanted to be able to give her this one thing. I wanted her to get the best start I could give her, and now I'm letting her down."

"Whoa, hey. You could never let her down. You've given her a great start. I mean, don't most women—"

"I don't care about what most women do," she interrupts, now crying openly. "This is me, and she is ours, Jim. We've already taken something from her by being careless, and now she's going to have to suffer because of it."

"Wow, okay. That's excessive."

"N-no, it's not."

"She's not going to suffer."

"But she will," Pam insists, taking a shaky breath. "The new baby will need all of our attention, a-and Cece will just get pushed aside, and then she'll think that I don't love her anymore, a-an-and then… and then—"

"Oh, Pam, no. No, she won't. She won't think that."

She is such a warm and loving mother, and you can't fathom a situation where Cece would ever feel unloved by her.

"Jim, she's my baby. She still needs me. We were supposed to have more time with her."

She sputters and coughs, disrupting Cecelia who has been growing progressively more agitated as her mother grew more and more distraught. The baby then expresses her frustration with an angry screech that turns into a persistent red-faced cry.

"Oh. Oh, Cece. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. Shh, shh, shh. I'm sorry. Mama just got a little upset, but we're all better now. It's okay."

You allow her to try and calm your daughter (and herself) for a few moments, but Cecelia just isn't having it.

"I can go warm up a bottle," you offer tentatively.

"No. No, it's fine. I've got her," she assures you. "Come on, sweetie."

She runs a hand over Cece's head, which only upsets the baby more, and a fresh wave of her own tears surface as a result. You really can't bear to see either of them like this, but you know that you can at least fix things for one of them.

"Pam, please? She's not—"

"No! Jim, I've got her, okay?" She snaps. "We're fine! Everything is fine! I can do this."

You shrink back and give her space, but a minute later, she tearfully passes you the hungry baby and wordlessly curls up under the covers.

You have never seen her look so defeated.

xx

It's just you and Cecelia for the rest of the morning. You went to check on Pam after dressing Cece for the day, only to find her asleep again. Pregnancy tires her out, but you also know that she probably exhausted herself even more by crying herself to sleep. And you're not really sure what to do about that at the moment.

Your daughter keeps you busy, though. It's just a normal day for her, and while she is sometimes content to play alone in her exersaucer, today she just wants you, toys, talking, tickling, and funny noises, which you are more than happy to provide. You really lucked out with her. Despite a few months of all-nighters and her recent pre-teething crankiness, she is surprisingly easy-to-please, and though your mom warns that easy babies become difficult teenagers, you aren't worried. Pam always jokes that Cece is perfect and will never do anything wrong, and looking at her sweet, innocent little baby face, you almost believe that against all reason.

Because, as far as you are concerned, she is perfect. And more than you could have ever asked for. You loved her from the absolute second that you processed the doctor's words last year, and it was love at first sight again when you saw her fuzzy grey silhouette via sonogram several weeks later. And all of that was before you even knew anything about her, before you knew what it felt like to hold her in your arms, see her smile, and be her dad. You knew that she would change your life and that every cliché would be true, but actually experiencing all of it still kind of blows your mind sometimes.

God help you when the other one gets here because your brain just might break.

"Are you falling asleep there, Cece?"

Playtime has flown by, and she is fighting to keep her eyes open while chewing on a teething ring and sitting on the living room floor supported by your hand against her back. She loses her balance when she yawns, and you quickly catch her before she face-plants into the carpet.

"Yep," you confirm. "It's naptime."

She rubs her eyes and lets out a little whimper of protest when you pick her up and move to stretch out on the sofa, but she soon settles against your chest, grabbing a fistful of your t-shirt and staring up at you.

"Go to sleep, sleepy girl," you laugh softly before kissing her forehead.

In no time, her eyelids flutter closed, her tiny mouth falls open, and she begins to snore lightly. She looks an awful lot like you most of the time, but when she drifts off like this, all you can see is Pam— adorable little snore included.

xx

Though there is a running list in your head of household tasks that you could tackle while Cecelia is napping, taking your own short rest is the more appealing option. It's not that you are particularly tired; it's just that you have wanted to curl up next to Pam again ever since she was sick earlier. You have this overpowering urge to keep an eye on her and an arm around her, and you just want her to know that you are so in this and ready to do anything or be anything she needs.

So you carefully climb the stairs, lay your completely passed-out daughter in her crib, and head to your bedroom where, to your surprise, Pam looks up when you reach the doorway.

"Oh, hey. You're awake," you observe, striding towards her. "How are you feeling? Still pretty sick?"

"No," she answers, smiling softly as you stretch out facing her on your side. She still sounds tired, but there is considerably less desperation in her voice. "Where's Cece?"

"Either napping in her crib, playing with matches, or out somewhere fighting crime," you answer simply.

It gets a good laugh, and you take pride in getting your first big grin out of her in what seems like forever. She has no idea how breathtakingly pretty she is when she smiles that way, and you can't help but pull her close and kiss her.

"I'm sorry for freaking out on you before," she apologizes when you break apart, getting teary again. "It's just that—"

"Shh… Hey, come on. It's okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'd be freaking out, too."

"It's just a lot, and I'm scared. I'm not ready for this. Jim, can you honestly say that you're ready for this?"

Honestly? You can't. You aren't. You will be, but right now, as eager as you are, there is a more rational part of you that knows that you are going to need every day of the next eight months or so to get your shit together because you are a real man now with a real family, a hell of a lot of responsibility, and not much of a plan.

"Not yet," you answer truthfully, giving her hand a squeeze. "But I will be. I swear. Whatever it takes, whatever you need or they need, I'll do it, okay?" She nods. "And you'll be ready, too," you add confidently, sensing that her concern lies less with you and more with herself. "Pam, you're such an awesome mom. I don't know if I tell you that enough, but you are. I'm so proud of you. You'll be able to handle this."

She doesn't respond. In fact, she doesn't say anything for a while, but she does cuddle into you and allow you to hold her tightly until you tell her that you love her and she finally speaks.

"I've, uh, got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday morning," she reveals hesitantly. "You know, to get an idea of when this all happened and to make sure everything is going the way it should."

"What time?"

"9:30, so I'm thinking we should just call in sick for the day."

"Sounds good. I like the way you think, Mrs. Halpert." She laughs, and you can feel the muscles in her shoulders relax. "So, uh, when do you think this happened?"

You can't help but ask; it's been on your mind since she first told you.

"Not sure," she answers after a pause. You can hear the blush in her voice, and it makes you briefly wish that Cece also took longer naps in addition to sleeping through the night. "But there have been a lot of opportunities."

"There have been."

She snuggles even closer and sighs. "We'll find out soon enough."

xx