"Sweetie, pause at the top of the stairs! Look this way! That's the perfect shot. John, doesn't she look great? Now, Quinn, walk down the stairs - slowly, slowly, stop. Finn, take her arm. Pose, you two! Smile, kids. That's great. You look fabulous."

I will never experience the unique horror of cheesy prom photos. I will never shop for a prom dress or flinch when Finn tries to pin on my corsage and accidentally pricks my skin instead. What am I supposed to do at graduation - hold my daughter in one hand and my diploma in the other? I probably won't go to college. I'll end up at some dead-end job that I hate, stuck in Lima for the rest of my life. Dating will be out of the question, or at least for the next few years. Even after that, I'll have baggage. No one will want me.

Let's face it - nobody wants me now. My dad threw me out of the house, Coach Sylvester kicked me off the team, Puck won't break it off with Santana, the Celibacy Club practically impeached me, and Finn - he's the worst of them all - is lusting after doe-eyed Rachel Berry. The last person who actually said a sincere word to me was Terri, Mr. Schue's crazy wife, and she only talks to me because she wants my baby.

You know, when I was growing up, my parents told me that God would always be there for me. They told me to pray to Him every night. They said that He is always watching. Is he watching me now? I don't think so. I can't think so. I don't believe in God. Not anymore.

Whenever I'm feeling bitter - which is nearly all the time, nowadays - I think about what my life could have been. Cheerleading captain, homecoming queen, valedictorian. That would only be the beginning. Next would come an Ivy League education in a place far, far away from Lima. My professors would be thoroughly impressed by my diligence and academic inclination and would write gleaming letters of recommendation to high-paying jobs. I'd be a lawyer, I think. I'd win every case. Somewhere in between law school and my ten-year high school reunion, I'd fall in love with a rich, stunningly handsome doctor - a brain surgeon, perhaps. We would marry in a charming church in the presence of three hundred of our closest friends and family. I would wear a beautiful white silk gown adorned with Chantilly lace flown in directly from France.

Then, when I'm married to the perfect man with the perfect job, past high school and college and my wildly successful career, I would give birth to our two darling children. A boy and a girl. They would be blonde with bright blue eyes and utterly adorable smiles.

Life doesn't always happen that way. Mine certainly won't. Once I've imagined my perfect life, I realize the sacrifices I will have to make. The sacrifices I'm already making.

I've given up living at home in the grandest house in Lima for living in Finn's guest room. I've given up watching others get the slushie treatment for receiving it myself on a daily basis. I've given up my Cheerios uniform for clothes that are too tight across the stomach. This is only the beginning.

There will be more down the road. There are always more expenses. Medical bills, maternity clothes, eventually baby clothes, jars of baby food, a crib, daycare for when I'll work as a waitress trying to scrape together enough money to keep the heat on.

The sacrifices begin now. As long as I'm her mother, they'll never end.