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Phoebe had decided that she was never going to get pregnant again. She would have their little boy, he would be amazing and beautiful and perfect, and he would be the only spoiled child of Elphias and Phoebe Doge. This was it, they'd rushed their marriage, they'd only been married a year before she got pregnant, and that meant they could spend the rest of their lives taking it slow.

Really. There was no reason to go through nine more months of torture when you were already sure to have the perfect child.

Phoebe knew that after she finally gave birth (a scary, terrifying ordeal that she refused to think about or acknowledge----Baby Doge could stay cooped up in her belly forever, if she could avoid the pains of labor) she would probably be cooing for a sister for the baby, but right now, she was just mourning her figure and realizing she wasn't going to be able to fit in a more flattering dress for at least another few months.

"Noo, that's fine!" she let out when Elphias brought over the plates of food. Phoebe liked to deny that she could really eat all of that, but she knew by the end of the night she'd be having hunger pains again. She attempted to move over on the love seat she'd dropped down onto, trying to give Elphias some room to sit because she most certainly could not get up. "You're going have some, aren't you?"