Disclaimer: I thought I should mention that the quote I have Atticus say in the middle of the chapter belongs to George Addair. I'm not sure if this quote was well-known when this story is set, but I thought it was extremely fitting.

A/N: Sorry in advanced if this A/N gets a little lengthy! I've always had the habit of writing the first and last chapter of a fic first (I think as a way to keep me committed), so this has been done for quite a while. I've decided that, even though I could explore this story more, to stop myself at a place where there was a good ending point but also where I could come back and continue on if I really wanted to. I wanted this story to be relatively short because this was one of my first major attempts at a multi-chaptered fic so I didn't want to get in over my head. Also, the last year of my Master's program begins relatively soon so I know I'll probably lose any free time that I have. However, I already have two chapters of a follow-up written, but I want to make sure I have a good foundation for it before I post anything (in case school does cause me to disappear). But, overall, I'm quite proud of this little thing and am extremely appreciative for all of the kind words and feedback I've gotten along the way!

-o-o-o-

Jean thought she would never become a mother. After months and months of trying and two miscarriages, she had begun to tell herself that maybe this was just something that would never happen. However, six years, eight months, two weeks and four days after Simon had died, Jeremy Atticus Finch entered the world. In the seventeen hours and forty-five minutes she had been in labor, she calculated exactly how long it had been since her nephew's death. She also calculated how much time had passed since she met Atticus and almost exactly how long she and Atticus had been married (it was something about counting that distracted her from the pain). Atticus, in his already anxious state, had come to believe she had gone into some kind of fit. It wasn't until she declared, through gritted teeth and fits of pain, how long Simon had been gone did he understand.

In the years that passed since Simon's death, Jean felt quite proud in her ability to forego most of the guilt she had felt. Thanks to that first walk she ever had with Atticus, she was able to move on, to fully accept what had happened and continue on with her life without feeling guilty or miserable quite as much as she used to. It wasn't until Atticus brought up the idea of having children early on into their marriage that Simon once again began to press heavily on her mind.

That evening had gone on as normal, with Atticus returning from the office in the early evening and the two of them having dinner together. On an extremely normal night, there would have been more conversation between the two of them, but for some reason her husband had been oddly silent. This didn't worry Jean, though, because Atticus had been known to have his periods of quietness and solitude and they never lasted very long.

After dinner, the rest of the evening was usually spent sitting on the porch or in the sitting room, talking and reading until it was time to retire to the bedroom. But, Atticus had still been silent.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Atticus, without looking up from his book, thought aloud: "I like what we have."

Jean couldn't help but to be a little confused. "I like being married," he continued, mindlessly marking the page that he was on and resting the book on the floor next to him. Finally, he looked at her and he was smiling. Jean couldn't help but to worry. "But I've been thinking about something."

She swallowed. "What's that, sweet?" She asked, hoping she didn't sound too nervous.

"We should have a baby." He responded, still smiling at her. Her heart got caught in her throat as her mind went immediately to the image of Simon in that damn pool. "Only if you want," he added, and she noticed his smile fade a little bit.

"Of course!" She replied, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Nothing would make me happier."

She couldn't help but to notice how happy he looked, and felt quite shameful at the fact that she never realized that this was something he wanted so badly. "A baby would be nice," she added, smiling back at her husband.

Both Jean and Atticus had been incredibly surprised at how quickly she had gotten pregnant. They were also both surprised by how quickly she lost the baby. After the entire ordeal, Jean couldn't help but to feel guilty for a number of reasons. Something in the back of her mind convinced her that she lost the baby because she spent most of her time worrying about it since the minute she found out about its existence. To add to that, Jean was quite certain she would never forget the look of pure sadness on Atticus' face in the days following the miscarriage.

The second pregnancy didn't come as quickly as the previous one. However, at this point she wasn't going to give up. She was going to have a baby, damn it. She swore she was ready for it this time. But, once she found out she was pregnant again it was like the vicious circle had come to full swing once again. All she could do was worry all day, the pit of anxiousness in her stomach never subsiding. She tried to push those feelings aside and be happy, because after all, she did really want this baby. Atticus really wanted this baby. But it was no use, she spent her days worrying about what would happen once the baby was born, rather than being excited.

She lost that baby, too. For days afterwards, she cried and cried in her bed, unable to move. She couldn't even keep her babies alive long enough to be born, how the hell was she going to successfully raise one? Maybe this was God punishing her for what happened to Simon, maybe it was a sign that she should give up because the past was doomed to repeat itself. On those dark days, Atticus didn't go to work, he was too worried about her. He spent his days sitting next to her, reading as she cried, trying to get her to get some air or something to eat. Usually, when she declined he allowed her to grieve. He would hold her, pat her head, and told her that she shouldn't blame herself. While it was comforting, she still couldn't help but to feel guilty.

One day, it must've been nearly a week after they lost the baby, he forced her out of bed. He made her sit up, brush her hair and put on a dress, and told her she was going to walk around town with him. She tried to decline, but he wouldn't let her. "I didn't ask you to go for a walk," he said gently as he took her hand and led her towards the front porch. "I told you. This'll do you some good."

If she hadn't already been in a vulnerable state, she wouldn't have felt quite as stung as she did when he said that. But still, she walked with him, knowing that he had nothing but her best interests at heart. During their walk throughout town, they simply talked to each other, about the weather, his work, the news, books and anything else that crossed their minds. Despite the fact that her entire face was swollen from weeping and she received some questionable glances, the two of them smiled at neighbors and bid them hello as they walked. This was alright, she thought, things were alright.

After their walk, they finally resumed life as normal. They ate dinner together and later sat in the parlor listening to the radio. The pit of anxiety that she thought was permanent finally dissolved.

Usually, the two of them would sit in separate chairs during their nightly ritual. But on this night Atticus had taken a seat on the couch, beckoning for her to come sit with him. There they sat, for hours, with her head resting on his shoulder. The only noise that could be heard for a while was the sound of the radio and the turning of pages from Atticus' book.

"Sweet?" He said abruptly, making her jump.

"Yes?"

"Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear." He said, kissing her temple. Tears began prickling her eyes, but she found that this time she wasn't sad. Despite her silence on the subject, he had known this entire time just how nervous she had been.

The third time she got pregnant, neither of them got too excited or hopeful, but instead went about their normal lives (with some alterations of course). When two months passed and they didn't lose the baby, she could tell that Atticus was getting more excited, but still remained silent. Three, four, five and eventually six months passed and she was beginning to get bigger and she felt the baby move inside her and they both finally realized that this time they were in it for the long haul. They finally told their families about the baby, bought things like bottles and a crib and clothes so little that Atticus was highly amused by them, and they realized they were finally going to be parents. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but to think that maybe it was too good to be true. When she told Atticus that he smiled at her, and told her that the pair of them must be cynics because he worried sometimes, too. From what his sisters told him about being parents, he told Jean he figured that this just marked the beginning of many years of worrying about their child. As the baby continued to grow and move (sometimes making her feel like her spine was being crushed), Jean figured her husband was right.

That's how she got to her current state, confined to a bed for nearly a day, thinking she was going to break from the pain she was in. She felt guilty for comparing her alive child to her long-dead nephew, but she found it was the only way to keep her mind off of the pain.

Almost suddenly, she felt relief. As she struggled to catch her breath, the room filled with cries. Loud, wet cries that indicated that her baby was indeed very much alive. She looked over at Atticus, who was watching Dr. Reynolds intently. Finally, he looked over at her, smiling. "You did it," he said in her ear as he kissed her forehead.

"You have a son," Dr. Reynolds beamed at Jean as he carried the noisy bundle towards her. She propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look. "How would you like to hold him?"

Nervously, Jean quickly looked at her husband. "You," she gasped, causing Dr. Reynolds to look surprised. "Let Atticus hold him." She said as the doctor put the baby in her husband's arms, still looking perplexed.

Shortly after, the doctor excused himself to give them time with the baby, but neither of them noticed. Jean watched as Atticus beamed down at the now quiet bundle in his arms, and felt the nervousness rising through her once again. "How is he?" She whispered as Atticus brought the bundle closer for her to see. He was a pink little thing with a head full of light brown hair, and she loved him.

"Lucky for him he looks just like his mama." Atticus said proudly, kissing her head again. Looking at her son, she couldn't help but to take him right from Atticus' arms. The baby, surprised by being moved so quickly, made a noise that reminded her of a cat howling. She cried.

With the baby in her arms, she completely forgot about her husband standing beside her. Gently, she kissed her baby's face, leaving tears on his cheeks. The baby scrunched his face and let out a little noise, making Jean laugh through her tears.

"Look at him," was all she could say as she kissed Atticus again and again. "He's perfect, he's so perfect."

Why, she couldn't take her eyes off of him, he was the most beautiful specimen she ever laid her eyes on. And he was hers, all hers. "Are you still afraid?" Atticus asked, not removing his eyes from his son.

"Terrified," she responded, still beaming down at the bundle in her arms. "But I don't think I would change this for the world."

End.