[A/N: A one-shot from Katniss's POV on the birth of their first child. Previously a chapter in Out of the Ashes but removed and placed her as a one-shot since I didn't feel it really fit the flow of my story there. Thank you for all the reviews and as always thank you for reading!]
My mother stood in the doorway of our home, a gentle smile tugging at her lips as Peeta welcomed her inside. I could barely see her from the rocker by the crackling fireplace but I heard the soft lull of conversation and I put down my knitting needles and pushed myself upward from the chair to go meet her.
As I stood up warm liquid rushed from below and I gasped unsure of what to do. It took a moment for me to gain my bearings before waddling as quickly as I could to the bathroom crying out for Peeta. My mind went blank, the midwife had told me that my water might break before the contractions started but I could feel the panic rising as I ran my hands over my growing belly.
"Peeta!" I cried out again as I started flinging towels from the bathroom closet
The midwife had put me on bed rest for the last three weeks because the baby was so insistent on coming into this world. Finally I had been allowed to get up and moving now that the baby was full term and I had been knitting hats and booties while Peeta teased that I was going to be a mother not a grandmother. Knitting was fun though, it kept my hands busy and kept me from worrying over all the horrors that haunted my nightmares from the moment she first stirred within me.
"Katniss, what are you doing?" He asked as he hurried over.
"I'm—my water broke." Words evaded me as the realization set in that I would be welcoming our child into this world very soon. I could see his face flush as he realized the same thing before my mother rushed over grabbing the towels that had fallen to the ground.
"It's okay," Peeta soothed, letting his fingers run over my belly softly before placing a kiss on my forehead. "Let's get you upstairs to lie down." Carefully he reached down scooping me up into his arms gently before carrying me up the stairs where my mother had laid the towels across our bed. He lowered me down slowly to the bed, just as he had the night when I had first agreed to try. The thought of that night sent a small smile ghosting across my lips and he returned my smile instinctively.
"You're going to make a great mother, you know."
I pat the bed beside me and Peeta sits down and rests his hand on my stomach. She kicks just then like she knows that her father is anxiously awaiting her arrival. He flashes a knowing smile as he feels the soft drumming of her feet against his fingers.
"This is all your fault," I grumble half-teasing as he leans down pressing his lips to mine but all the playfulness drains from my face quickly. My body tenses up and it feels as if my stomach is twisting into knots. My hand reaches out grabbing at Peeta's until he laces his fingers into mine. I don't have to say a word, even if I could, because Peeta has learned to read my expressions as easily as he reads his favorite book.
I squeeze his hands until my knuckles turn white but he doesn't flinch. He leans down whispering soothing words into my ear until the contraction passes. It leaves a glistening sheen of sweat across my forehead but my mother comes in dabbing a cool cloth across my brow.
We spend hours like this, Peeta encourages me to rest between contractions and I plead with him to stay by my side. I doze off once or twice but when I open my eyes, he's always right there. Our fingers remain laced together in a clammy knot.
I could have delivered in the medical center but women delivered in their homes in Twelve for years and I was determined that I was no better than any one of them. Besides, white washed walls and tile floors were not the environment I wanted Peeta and I to welcome our firstborn child into. Not when they held such terrible memories for Peeta.
When the time comes my mother kneels at the foot of the bed counting each time I push as Peeta endures every agonizing squeeze I can manage with each cry of pain. The tears are streaming down my face now, I'm so exhausted.
"I can't. I can't do it." I cry.
As a new wave of pain hits me I arch my back in agony, my fingers curl around Peeta's until I'm certain neither of us have any circulation left but somehow he's still calm, collected.
"You can and you'll be holding her soon. One more time Katniss, please try. You can do it."
Peeta's words seem to reach me even on the brink of exhaustion and I let out another cry of pain as I push with every last ounce of strength I have.
I want to hold her so badly, I want her in my arms.
My mother looks up at me with a smile as the sound of another person's cries fill the room mixing with my own. A choked sob escapes my lips as she raises our beautiful baby girl up where we can see her. She's screaming but her eyes are wide and it feels as if time stops when our eyes meet for the first time.
"You did it. I love you, I love you so much Katniss."
Peeta leans down placing a gentle kiss on my lips while my mother cleans up our beautiful daughter. "She has your hair," he whispers and I can see his eyes flooded with tears.
The midwife places her in my arms and after a few moments she quiets down as Peeta and I stare at her in awe.
"She has your eyes," I grin elated up at Peeta.
I swear I've never seen him look as happy as he does in this moment. He reaches placing one of his deft fingers against our baby girl's palm and she grips it, the way I was gripping his hand for the last few hours.
My mother appears in the door way after helping the midwife clean up. "You have a visitor," she announces and I see Haymitch looming behind her. He steps inside and places a hand on Peeta's shoulder.
"Congratulations, kid." Haymitch smiles.
His voice is genuine as he leans over getting a good look at the dark haired, blue eyed beauty that I'm clinging so tightly to in my arms. He looks from her to me and gives a nod of approval.
"Lucky she gets her good looks from you." He prods and I manage a little smile up at Peeta.
"Well, let's hope she doesn't pick up on anything that her Uncle Haymitch does." I retort and Haymitch lets out a lighthearted chuckle.
"Uncle, huh?"
Peeta and I nod and I swear I see a tear slide down Haymitch's cheek but I don't dare mention it. Peeta wraps an arm around me and then glances in my direction and I know he saw it too.
Shortly after our visitors leave exhaustion takes over and I reluctantly pass our beautiful baby girl over to Peeta. My mother brings me some herbal tea and I watch Peeta's face as he takes in her every move. The little expressions that he makes down at her reassure me that he was right.
There are no more Hunger Games to strip the innocence from my beautiful child. Despite all of our many losses life can go on, it can be good again and for the first time in a long time I drift off to sleep letting myself be happy.