Title: Motif
Rating: K+
Summary: The woman's presence cannot be eradicated.
She wants to get rid of that blanket. Wash it at the very least, just to get rid of the smell of her, lingering there in her mind long past when it should have dissipated.
But she can't; the baby clings to it. Sophie sleeps soundest with it swaddled around her. She hardly sleeps at all if it's not close by.
It's been two months, six months, a year since she brought her little girl home to an apartment all hers, filled with new toys, new clothes, new blankets. But she still can't bring herself to toss that blanket, rid herself of that last tangible, unavoidable reminder of her choice, no matter how many guilty twinges slide up her spine when the baby, her baby, her own baby, cuddles every night next to that blanket that somebody else once wrapped her in.
She wants to excise every sign of her presence from the baby, the room, their life. To stop remembering that for fifty-seven days, Sophie wasn't hers. That she belonged with someone else. That two other people had held her and rocked her and swaddled her tight. She wants to stop feeling ashamed for giving her little girl away and guilty for taking her back. All that stands between her and a clean slate is that blanket.
And yet, every time she walks to the trash, wadded-up material in hand, she shamefully remembers another woman who touched that blanket and did what she couldn't -someone who cared for her little girl, then surrendered her -so she takes it back and stuffs it in the crib, hiding it under the quilts and baby afghans and stuffed animals. She pretends it's not there, that she owes this woman nothing. She squashes her guilt down deep and bites back bitter words as Sophie whimpers and reaches out for that blanket and the memory of a mother no longer her own.
A/N: This story owes inspiration to the fic "Leave Me the White" by gidget_zb on livejournal.