"And this sexy piece of woman is your mother."

"Will you put the camera down?" I requested with a giggle, my hand covering my belly protectively while the other moved the paint brush up and down, painting the last wall of the baby's room.

"You want me to stop filming, during an important point in our baby's development?" Donnie asked, lowering the camera in feigned shock.

"We're just painting!" I laughed.

"We're bonding," he insisted, finally pausing the recording and stepping forward to kiss me, sweet, long, loving. "We're two days from ten weeks. Life is definitely worth recording right now."

"Will it still be worth it when I've swelled up like a balloon?" I giggled a bit less joyfully at that comment, turning to the wall and focusing on my brushstrokes.

"You'll never look better." Donatello's hands slid across my waist, landing just below my navel. "You'll be full of life."

"And when I'm bleary-eyed from endless sleepless nights and smell like soiled diapers?" I whispered with a smirk, turning my head to kiss his cheek.

"I won't let you suffer our newborn's wrath alone," he promised with a chuckle, planting his lips below my jaw, "And even then, you'll radiate motherly beauty."

"You make me sound like some miracle," I observed, bending to dip the brush in more lavender paint, "You know I didn't create this baby on my own, right?"

"Of course." He pulled away, flicking the controls on the camera back and forth as he returned to constructing the crib. "I just can't believe I got to create something so wonderful with a woman like you."

"Well, believe it. In a few months, that wonderful something is gonna be clinging to you, calling you Dada."

His smile lit up the room brighter than the sun streaming in. "I hope she's like you; creative, soft, pretty."

I dropped the brush, hooking my thumbs in my overalls (figured I should get used to wearing loose, bulky clothing) and sauntering over to him. "I don't understand how you're so sure it will be a girl." I hooked my arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing myself to his carapace. "I think HE will be like you; handsome, a genius, a hopeless romantic..."

"A mutant." The words left his mouth before he could think them through. Donnie turned to me, his eyes contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the mood..."

"Donatello," I hushed him, my eyes concerned as I traversed his frame with my hands. "Our child is going to be amazing, human, mutant, gifted, or otherwise. Because HE has you as a father."

"And SHE has YOU as a mother," he whispered, bringing my hands up to kiss my knuckles. "Making her one hell of a little girl."

"Don't use such language around my son!" I chastised, all playfulness while I swatted his arm.

"My DAUGHTER can certainly handle such mild words. If she can't, how will she handle being around her Uncle Raph?"

"You should talk to it more," I encouraged, forgoing the pronouns for now, pressing his hand to my stomach again. "You know how much it helps a baby's development to hear its parents' voices."

"I wouldn't know what to say," he diverted, averting his eyes sheepishly. "I know it likes your voice better anyway."

"And yet you have no problem narrating its entire existence through the camera lens," I countered, pecking his lips. "C'mon, just try. For me?"

Donnie smiled, kissing me and whispering against my lips, "Anything for you."

He knelt slowly, staring at my abdomen, like he could see right through my skin to the little bundle of joy inside me, His hands framed my pelvis, gazing at where the baby was, glancing up at me reluctantly.

"Go on," I urged, placing my hand on his cheek and coaxing him into speaking.

"Hey, baby girl," he greeted.

"Or baby boy!" I corrected.

"Right." He laughed softly, clearing his throat a bit. "This is your dad, Donatello Hamato. Your mom, Y/ N, is the love of my life. She's in school to be an artist. Her easiest class is Color Theory, her most difficult is Art History—"

"You're not reciting my college resume, are you?"

"I'm trying!" he insisted.

"I know. Just giving you a hard time." My lips turned up in a gentle grin.

Donnie shook his head, turning back to my belly. "I...I love you. More than anything... you and your mama are the greatest things to ever happen to me. And I promise, when you get here, you're gonna be loved by so many people, and you're gonna be the greatest creation ever. Your mother is a treasure, a gift, and so are you. I'd give the world for you, kid."

"See?" I said, choking back tears, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

He smiled up at me. "Really?"

"Really."

"Well..." he turned back to my stomach, giving it a small kiss. "Nice talking with you. Oh, and if you're a girl, we're naming you Adelaide."

"But if you're a boy, it's definitely going to be Theodore!" I put in.

"Theodore? After the President?" Donnie argued, shooting to his feet.

"Adelaide? After my long-dead great-aunt" I returned with a laugh.

"Just because you're pregnant with my child does not mean you're exempt from attacks," he reminded me with a mischievous grin, his fingers reaching toward me.

"Not a tickle attack!" I protested gleefully, grabbing the camera and switching it on before he could complain. "Beware, baby — your Daddy's an all-out tickle monster!"
"Oh, you're gonna pay for that!"