AN: So, I've had a similar idea about a story like this only because I'm considered the oddball, the 'freak' in the family. This story is dedicated to my darling son, Peanut, because without him I wouldn't be very weird or odd at all. And of course, to the hubby. Also a big shout out to Missus Robinson! Check out her story Swim, Tadpole, Swim. It's amazing and funny and most of all, has lost of lemony goodness between our two favorite Twilight characters.

To Bella, With Love.

"Unless you love someone, nothing else makes sense." - E. E. Cummings

I was sitting on our couch in front of the fire, leafing though the newspaper articles and sipping my coffee. Edward was a few feet away on the other couch, papers spread out on it. He was muttering to himself about something-or-other, always so lost in his work. I saw an article that caught my eye in the newspaper's health and wellness section. A bold headline read, "Women Over 30 Find It Harder Than Ever To Conceive", bringing my thought in the recent weeks back to the forefront of my mind. I was only 23, far from the age where my 'clock' should start ticking. Yet here I was, contemplating once again the thought of having, and making, a child. How would I bring it up to Edward? We'd only been living in our new home for a few months.

The house was a gorgeous 4 bedroom in the Seattle area. The outside had a classic feel to it, with brown shaded bricks along the outside bottom part. We had painted the inside to be a beautiful sky blue, Edward's favorite color. It had double glass paned doors leading from the dining room, master bedroom and deck area outside, one of my favorite places to sit on the sparse sunny days the Olympic Peninsula had to offer. A modern kitchen broke off into the breakfast room, with big double doors that lead to the outside deck and my favorite part of the house, the pool. There was still enough space for me to start the vegetable garden that I had always dreamed of growing. Walking just up the stairs led you to the best room in the house: The master bedroom. Also in the same pale blue color as the rest of the house, the bed was a massive white billowing thing, with a sturdy dark frame. The bathroom was large and comfortable, breaking off from the bedroom. With a guest bedroom and an office for me to work at, there was only one room left empty and undecorated.

"What's wrong, babe?" Edward snapped me out of my reverie of our home, a small smile on his face. God, I could never get tired of waking up to that. The most vivid green eyes I have ever seen framed by a mop of bronze-brown hair, constantly in disarray from his running his hands though it. He smiled again at my staring, the adorable dimple on the side of his face showing.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" He said as he came to sit down next to me, an arm around my waist.

"Well, I know that we haven't been married or living together in our house too long, but I feel like there's something missing."

"What do you mean?" He asked, his brow furrowed. "Am I doing something wrong, Bella?"

"No, Edward! You know that's not it. You've been amazing and patient even when I constantly mess up." We were both thinking back to the laundry night fiasco, about two weeks after moving in. I went to put in a load of laundry in our brand new fancy washer, but couldn't figure out how to do it. 'Geez, how do people wash their clothes in these things? I feel like a need an engineering degree for this shit.' After a few minutes of not knowing where to put it, I found a little space that was labeled detergent. Putting it in, I set my clothes to wash. When I came to check on it about half an hour later, I found an absolute mess. Bubbles were flying all over, coating everything that hadn't already been completely sudsy in even more bubbles. The machine was spitting out the clothing on the floor, regurgitating it like some sort of odd, vomiting robot. Frustrated and crying, I called Edward frantically and begged him to come home. He raced back from the office to find me crying in a soapy puddle on the floor of the laundry room, our washer throwing up clothes like a drunk college student.

"Well, then what's wrong, love?"

I was never one for subtlety or beating around the bush. So I just blurted it out.

"Edward, I want a baby. NOW."