Twenty-Seven

 

Operation Baby Drop

 

Finishing up her three-mile walk on the treadmill, Ariana had a few minutes to spare before her three-way Zoom with Nicole and Jeanne. She made a quick stop in the kitchen for her morning smoothie, where Lydia already had it waiting for her.

“You’re the best, Lydia,” Ari said, grabbing the glass with a grateful nod before heading into the office.

The past few days had actually been productive—unusually so. Since hiring Gloria, Ari had checked off more in seventy-two hours than she had in the last two weeks. Who knew that an extra set of capable hands would make such a difference?

She pulled the oversized desk chair out from behind her desk, sank into it, and powered up her laptop. Normally she wouldn’t show up to a video call looking like a swamp rat, but this was Jeanne and Nicole. If anyone understood, it was them.

Taking a long sip of her smoothie, she clicked into the meeting and tapped the microphone icon.

“Nic, you on?” she asked.

“Hey, yep, just joined,” Nicole’s voice came first, then her face. “Sorry, had to run into the other room to grab my tablet for notes.”

“No worries.”

Another chime echoed in her headphones.

“Jeanne. There you are,” Ari said as the name flashed onscreen.

“I’m here,” Jeanne replied. “Can you see me? I can see you both.”

“Nope,” Nicole and Ari answered at the same time.

“Damn,” Jeanne muttered. “Hold on a second.”

Two seconds later Jeanne’s face appeared on the screen—casual clothes, no makeup, and the look of someone who’d already led three meetings before breakfast.

Nicole smiled and leaned into the camera. “So, how’s everyone enjoying the last couple of days off before we dive back into it?”

Jeanne snorted. “Days off? Who’s been off? I haven’t stopped running since the last show.”

Ari raised her smoothie like a toast. “Same. I’ve got two more calls after this one—one with Kennedy. She’s buried in MSG crap again. Apparently, Gaga’s load-out is turning into a full-blown standoff. They can’t load us in until she clears out.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Jeanne said. “She’s been ripping someone a new one all morning.”

They all shared a quick laugh—the kind you have when you know it’s true. Then, just like that, the energy shifted. Time to get into it.

“So just to confirm,” Jeanne continued, “this call is about what we need paperwork-wise for the birth certificate if you deliver in Ireland. Possible cross-checking for the other locations, just in case?”

“Yes,” Ari said. “Let’s start with the birth certificate stuff for Ireland, since that’s mostly going to be my delivery location. Right, Nic?”

“That’s the plan. Unless baby has other plans,” Nicole teased.

Ari groaned. “Let’s hope he isn’t like his sister.”

“HE!” Jeanne squealed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Ari laughed. “It’s not official yet—just my gut feeling.”

“Got it. I’ve started a shared doc and just emailed it to both of you.”

“Thank you,” Nicole and Ariana said in unison.

“Alright,” Jeanne continued, “on the birth certificate logistics for Ireland—I spoke with the Civil Registration Office in Dublin. If the baby’s born there, you’ll need to register the birth in person within three months, but ideally during your stay.”

“Good thing we have a scheduled week off during that time.”

“I’ve already put in a priority request to pre-book your registration appointment. They’ll give us a flexible slot once we confirm the delivery hospital.”

“And I’ve already reached out to Beacon Hospital to ensure I have full privileges there,” Nicole added.

“Bless you both,” Ari said, adjusting her glasses. “And what exactly do we need to bring?”

“Passports for both you and Jon, and proof of address,” Jeanne replied. “Also, the hospital will issue a Notification of Birth form, which you’ll take to the registrar.”

Ari blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Okay, this is a lot more involved than I thought.”

As Jeanne went on, listing deadlines, cross-border requirements, and official forms, Ari’s brain started to whirl. She scribbled notes but knew they barely scratched the surface of what she’d need.  It wasn’t the paperwork that rattled her—it was the reminder of how different everything was this time. A baby born abroad. Mid-tour. Between soundchecks, city jumps, and backstages.

Her old self would’ve shrugged, said she could juggle it all—and she probably could—but there was something sobering about seeing it laid out in bullet points. Birth certificates, embassies, legal documents, visas. Logistics layered on top of emotion. It wasn’t just a birth; it was a project plan. And she was used to managing tours, not the start of a new life in a foreign hospital.

She blew out a slow breath, grateful beyond words that Jeanne and Nicole were the kind of women who made impossible things feel merely complicated.

Her gaze returned to Jeanne’s square on the screen. “I’m glad you told us to start now. I kept thinking of July as forever away, but clearly… no time like the present.”

Jeanne gave a modest shrug. “Better early than scrambling at the last minute.”

“Seriously, thank you,” Ari added. “We’d be toast if we waited until, like, May.”

Nicole chimed in. “Do they give a physical certificate that day?”

“Yes,” Jeanne replied. “Assuming no complications or missing documents, the certificate is issued on-site. I’m also working with legal to help with any follow-up documentation.”

“Okay. And worst case, if things shift and I don’t deliver in Ireland?”

“For London or Bristol,” Jeanne said, “it’s a similar process, but slightly slower. Forty-two days to register, but you’ll need to show proof of a UK address and immigration status.”

“Well, I won’t technically live there,” Ari added.

“Yeah, this is where it could be a little tricky, but not impossible. If you’re in a hotel, you might need a letter from the hotel confirming your stay—maybe even something from SAMCO backing up your location. Basically, anything that ties you to an address during that window.”

“Those are both easy to provide. I’ll be sure to keep my legs crossed until we land in Ireland.”

“Your doctor would appreciate that,” Nicole said, laughing.

“So would I,” Jeanne added enthusiastically. “Istanbul and Bucharest are trickier. I’ve got emails out to both embassies and two hospital administrators. Romania requires translated, notarized documents. Turkey might need our legal team to submit an application to the Ministry of Health if you’re not delivering at a state hospital.”

Ari groaned, rubbing her belly. “Hear that, Mick?” she murmured softly. “You’ll come out when the time’s right, but no harm in waiting for the Guinness.”

Jeanne laughed. “Mick! How’s Jon feel about that?”

“We don’t know the gender, remember?” Ari said with a shrug. “This is me doing my part in the name-game shenanigans he and the kids have going back and forth. I get a new name suggestion list every morning.”

Nicole grinned. “Mick might stick if you’re not careful.”

“You both know how I feel about Mick,” Ari said, smirking. “Convincing Jon—well, that’s a different story.”

“Anything else on the birth side?” Jeanne asked.

“No,” Nicole said.

“Next up,” Ari said. “Hiring a Pediatric NP. Nicole, want to walk Jeanne through what we discussed?”

“Sure. Ari and I were talking about postnatal care. We thought it might make sense to bring on a pediatric nurse practitioner who can travel.”

“A private hire, like you?” Jeanne asked.

“Yes,” Nicole replied. “Ideally someone with NICU experience who can support the baby’s health during the first month while they’re still in Europe.”

“And ideally someone who’s worked internationally,” Ari added. “This baby’s going to be on planes more than I was at that age.”

Jeanne was typing. “That’s doable, but we should loop in legal for licensing and visa issues. A U.S.-licensed NP might not be authorized to practice in Europe—even for basic care. Do you want me to look into temporary agencies?”

“Not yet,” Nicole said. “I have colleagues in pediatrics and family med. I’d rather select someone I trust personally, even if they’re from the States. We can loop legal to confirm scope and work eligibility abroad.”

“I’ll draft a job description for legal to review. Do we want the role classified as full-time or project-based?”

“Let’s say project-based, with a three-month commitment for now,” Nicole answered.

“Got it,” Jeanne replied.

“Oh, speaking of staff,” Nicole added, switching tones, “how’s Gloria doing?”

Ari’s expression softened before she even answered.

“Great, actually,” she said through a stretch, but her voice carried warmth. “She fell right into our schedule, and Lily loves her.”

What she didn’t say—at least not aloud—was how she loved her too. Gloria had quietly become the glue in the background of her chaos.

When Ari forgot to eat, Gloria would appear with a plate. When a travel document went missing, it was already reprinted and labeled on the counter. When Lily decided that bedtime rules were “optional,” Gloria somehow turned it into a game that worked better than anything Ari could have managed on three hours of sleep.

She’d started as an extra set of hands, but now, Ari realized, she was the reason mornings didn’t start in panic mode. Gloria had a way of making everything feel handled, even when it wasn’t.

“The real test will be when we hit the road,” Nicole added. “That took me a minute to get used to.”

Ari smiled faintly. “True, but she’s adaptable. She asks questions before things go sideways—that’s rare. I feel like she sees the curveballs before I do.”

Jeanne grinned. “Sounds like you finally found your unicorn.”

“Maybe I did.”

“We are a well-oiled crazy bunch, aren’t we?” Jeanne said.

“That we are.”

Jeanne glanced offscreen, then back. “Alright, I’ll draft that job description and send you both a copy for review before it goes to legal.”

“Perfect,” Nicole said. “Thank you.”

Ari nodded. “Yes, thank you. Seriously, Jeanne, this helps so much.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated once I hear back from Bucharest and Istanbul as well—hopefully no surprises.”

Ari smiled, already starting to shift in her seat. “And let Kennedy know I’ll call her in ten, yeah? I need a quick stretch and want to check on Lily.”

“Will do.”

Nicole waved. “See you ladies soon.”

“Bye!” they said in unison as the screen began to flicker.

Once the call ended, Ari rolled her shoulders back and stood, one hand on her lower back and the other on her half-finished smoothie.

She paused, looking at the faint reflection of herself in the darkened laptop screen—the woman who once coordinated entire world tours now coordinating her own family’s expansion across continents.

It wasn’t lost on her how ridiculous it sounded: meetings about embassies and midwives, legal clearances and bassinets. But then again, maybe this was what evolution looked like—learning to plan not just for the next show, but for the next generation.

“Alright, Mick,” she murmured to her belly, “pit stop in the loo, then we’ll check on Lilybug. One crazy call down… two more to go.”