Mother's Day is not my favorite holiday. Today was not a good day. And this one-shot was born in a moment (okay, an hour) of severe frustration.

"Aubade"
a one-shot in Bella's POV

There is something in my subconscious that always wakes me up on this annual holiday, usually in the wee hours of the morning, either during the sunrise or directly before the sunrise. I have never been one who relies on a lot of sleep, but every year on this certain day, my congress with the dose of aubade exhausts me. Even if I have completely forgotten about this holiday the night before, I still wake up and any good mood I may be in is ruined by the sunrise.

It has become a tradition, one I dread. I can never fall back asleep after these interruptions. My mind is just too preoccupied with memories, regrets, and even childhood nightmares I still sometimes experience in my sleep. Of course, these thoughts are present all year long, but on this certain day, they multiply and intensify.

Mother's Day has always been hard for me, even now, at the ripe old age of thirty-two. I can't remember a good Mother's Day in my entire childhood, and that kind of soured the whole idea for me early on. As a child, Mother's Days were always marked with resentment and regret. I couldn't escape the flyers and television advertisement begging me to buy "the best flowers for the best mom ever." In school, I was the only child who wasn't excited about making Mommy a finger paint masterpiece or fine jewelry made of drinking straws and macaroni. I felt the same way about Mother's Day that many single women feel about Valentine's Day-it was a hyped up, overly cheesy holiday created for some big shot to make money off of. And, like Valentine's Day, it was miserable if you didn't have someone to celebrate it with. I had a mom, but she certainly wasn't the "best mom ever." She was just a woman who was disappointed with her life and had taken that fury out on her only daughter. Even as a child, I knew that I was not wanted, that I was only an inconvenience for her. She told me from the time that I was a toddler that I was never supposed to happen and that life had "a way of shocking you." Of course, I didn't understand this at the time-how did babies happen, anyway? Didn't they always come at the right time? But I knew that if she could, she would give me up in a heartbeat. Plus on Mother's Day, she actually expected to be loved, and I could never offer that love, which would make everything worse for me. I couldn't afford a gift and she was never happy with my arts and crafts. One year when I was seven, I tried to make breakfast, but ended up catching the stove on fire. That resulted in a severe spanking from her boyfriend, so I never tried that again. Mother's Day never made anyone in our "family" happy.

Now, on the day of May 8, 2011, I'm awake at five thirty AM. I'm not alone in bed, of course, and for that I am truly grateful. I share a bed with my wonderful husband-and usually, our two children. We never planned on co-sleeping but it has become a bit of a routine, because they love it and Edward and I both love them so much it's hard to keep them out of our arms. I'm not alone, but I'm the only one awake. I stare out the sheer curtains and see the first pearl-gray light of dawn. The different colors always remind me of the same things, every year. The black of night makes me think of the ugly black loafers I received from the Salvation Army when she would not buy me new shoes. The gray reminds me of her old Toyota, the one she kicked me out of and left me on the side of the highway when I was ten. That was what prompted a kind stranger's call to the Department of Social Services. The gray turns into a sort of lavender-blue, almost periwinkle, I think of the walls of the emergency children's shelter I was placed in for a few weeks. Orange soon begins to reflect onto the few stray clouds before it saturates the entire sky. It matches the hair of the foster mother I was placed with after that, the only true "mother" I've ever had, the woman I still keep in touch with from time to time. The one who sends my children Christmas gifts in lieu of the grandmother they've never known. As the yellow sun comes up, I think of the yellow kitchen I returned to when the courts deemed my mother's house a "safe residence." That was ironic because I had spent years in foster care, and truly it was my foster mother who felt like home. The yellow kitchen was once again, the setting of a nightmare.

Purple clouds slowly blow across the golden sun, and I think of the bruises on my face I covered with my mother's makeup. Pink strands vein across the sky as the sun rises, which actually make me smile. The only thing I ever admired about my mother was her beauty, and she had a fondness for pink lipstick. Occasionally-rarely, actually—I was lucky enough to earn a kiss on my cheek, and I never wanted to wipe that lipstick off. It was tangible proof that I did indeed have some sort of mother. But just as the lipstick on my skin did, the pink in the sky fades.

All of these colors make a mural of my childhood. Some represent safety, but most represent pain. The bright colors eventually dissolve into one large span of pale blue. The blue is peace to me. For seven years now, I've been married to Edward, and the blue always reminds me of the ice blue diamond in my engagement ring. For four years after I graduated high school, I wandered alone, living only for college and a way out of my circumstances. I was finally able to earn a degree and a place of my own, and I had never felt more proud. I managed to cut my mother out of my life, but I still wasn't happy. After I started teaching high school, I met Edward. He was the only faculty member at the school who really seemed to notice me. We talked in the hallways and started eating at our own table in the cafeteria when we both had lunch duty. When we were both off lunch duty, we ate in my classroom. He was the baseball coach and the music teacher, which always impressed me, since coaches have a reputation in the educational world for being lazy and shallow. There was nothing lazy or shallow about Edward, except for maybe his lazy crooked smile and shallow (okay, non-existent) appreciation for the Shakespeare I taught in my English classes. It always amazed me how he could go from high fiving his baseball players in the hallway to composing music during his planning period. I used to stand outside his classroom door to "monitor the hallways" but to really listen to him brainstorm on his piano.

Edward looked at a simple baseball and saw an opportunity to impact lives. He looked at a piano and saw a way to turn passion into art, and genius into something almost tangible. And he looked at me and saw beyond the physical and emotional scars. He saw possibility. He ignored the scars on my lip (left by her fingernails after striking me) and asked me why I was frowning. He ignored the little round cigarette burns on my chest and tried to see into my heart. And in the meantime, he found his way into my very soul.

For ten years we have been in love-especially in the seven years of our marriage. Now we're both deliriously happy with each other and with our children. My mother is no longer part of my life, but she still haunts me, especially on this holiday every year. Edward knows this and is still trying to desensitize me to her memory, but he knows I have to take it slowly. Still, he does not know that every Mother's Day, I wake up to her face in my mind.

I turn my head away from the window and look at him in the dim light streaming through. He is asleep on his pillow, our four-year-old son Nicholas curled up into his t-shirt. Edward looks perfectly peaceful, that beautiful lazy smile gracing his face. His bronze hair is sticking up absolutely everywhere. I reach over Nicholas and our two-year-old daughter Addison to smooth Edward's frazzled mane. He senses my touch as I calm his bed-head and nuzzles his head into my hand, like an attention-starved kitten. He needs me just as much as I need him.
The love and care between us are definitely mutual.

It's sometimes hard to believe that as long as I'm living in Edward Cullen's house-living as Bella Cullen-my mother cannot hurt me. We haven't kept in touch, but the fear still exists. He will always protect me, always comfort me, always love me. He helps me make sure I am the type of mother I never experienced. Together, we're strong. Unbreakable.

I stare at my three loves-Edward and Nicky with their untamable hair, and Addison with her thumb in her mouth-and try to will away the hollowness I feel. Truly, my family completes me, but I still long for the type of mother I never knew. I still hurt from my experiences with her.

Time passes, and finally, as seven AM approaches, I decide to try to close my eyes again. We always sleep in on Sundays. But the alarm suddenly beeps loudly, piercing and shattering the calm silence. Worried I accidentally left the alarm on, I quickly reach over Edward and the kids and shut it off.

"Mmm?" Edward murmurs as I settle back into the bed.

"Sorry about that," I whisper, kissing his cheek. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

His green eyes open, and he blinks slowly. "Why are you awake? I set that alarm."

"Couldn't sleep," I shrug, stroking Addison's brown curls. The curls that originally came from my mother. "Just thinking."

That wakes him up. He gently pries Nicky's fingers from his t-shirt and then props up on his elbow. "What are you thinking about, love?" he asks softly, studying my face.

"My mom," I admit.

His hand slides over our children and finds mine under the blanket, squeezing it lovingly. "What about your mom? You know she can't bother you. She doesn't even know where you live."

"She still bothers me," I remind him. "I think about her all the time. It scares me."

"Bella, love, you have no reason to be scared." He moves his hand up my body, to my face, and cups my cheek. "You know that I will never let anyone hurt you again. Anyone. Ever again," he repeats for emphasis.

"I know," I assure him. "I just...fret over it. Am I going to turn out to be like her? Am I already like her? Has she ruined my life? Will I-"

He presses two fingers over my lips. "Shh. Come here, darling."

I obediently stand up and step over our munchkins, careful not to jostle them or disturb them in any way. He pulls me down by my hands, making my pajama-clad body straddle him. He guides me by my shoulders so I'm resting on top of him, and then he tenderly takes my hands and kisses them. "Bella, you know I've wanted children my whole life. I would not have given you this ring if I thought you would be anything less than a wonderful mother. You're perfect in every way, sweetheart. I'm so blessed."

"Yes, but-"

He interrupts me with a loving kiss, his red stubble scratching my face alluringly. "No buts," he demands gently. "I can't think of children happier than Nicky and Addison Cullen. I know there is not a man happier than me. And that's all because of you. You're so tender, so loving, so kind, so beautiful, so soft...you love us unconditionally, you always have hugs and kisses, and you're always ready to comfort and provide. You put us before yourself. You want nothing more than for us to be happy."

"But I'm so imperfect," I whisper. "I'm messy and impatient and insecure and-"

He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Being a mother is not about being perfect. It's okay to make mistakes. Being a mother is about loving your children more than you love yourself. And you do that better than any woman-or man-I know. You would do anything for Addison and Nicky. I know that."

I apparently still look unconvinced, because he kisses my eyelids. "Bella," he continues, "you are not like her. You are better than her. You are too strong to let your past affect your future. I know she hurt you-physically, mentally, and emotionally. I know you harbor a lot of resentment for that. Good for you. You turn your anger at her into motivation to be a real mother for your own children. You can't change the past, love. You can only change the future. And you've done a wonderful job of that. I love you so very much, and I'm so proud of you for surviving. Just remember: you are not Renee Higginbotham Swan. You are Isabella Swan Cullen. My Bella. My love. My reason for existence." He lets go of my hands and holds up two fingers. "Two entirely different people."

I purse my lips together and nod slowly. He gives me a small smile and uses his fingers to pry my lips apart before he kisses them. "Let it die, Bella. Let it burn. Let the sun set on that part of your life. It's over."

Let the sun set.

"After the sunset comes the dark night," I remind him, saying the words so quietly I nearly mouth them.

"And after the dark night comes the sunrise," he counters. "You let the sun set on her when you left her. The dark night came when you were unable to move on and leave her memory
behind. But now the sun is rising. It needs to rise. You've handled everything so well, Bella, but you need to allow the sun to shine and illuminate everything that is good in your life. Namely Nicholas and Addison. Let the sun shine on them, and let your doubts and fears succumb to the shadows. You're a bigger person than Renee will ever be. You're a better person than Renee will ever be. You deserve to bask in the sunrise and look forward to a new day." He suddenly pauses. "Wow, that sounded cheesy."

I shake my head. "No, not cheesy. True. It's like...aubade in my story."

"Right. Aubade." He suddenly pauses. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"It's a literary device," I reply, tracing his cheeks with my hands. "You wouldn't know."

He gives me a brilliant smile. "Care to tutor me, Mrs. Cullen?"

I lean down and kiss him. "It's when a writer uses the sunrise as a symbol or a metaphor or even a conceit..."

He stares at me blankly.

"Basically, the sunrise represents something," I explain, nuzzling my nose to his jaw. "I guess my sunrise represents new beginnings...new faith in myself."

"I think I like aubade," he remarks, letting his hands caress my back. "Don't ever doubt yourself, Bella. You're perfect. I wouldn't change a single thing about you."

I kiss him again and rest my head on his chest, right over his heart. As it beats in my ear, I know that he's telling me the truth. In his eyes, I'm flawless. In my children's eyes, I'm wonderful.

And that's enough.

He kisses the top of my head. "Happy Mother's Day, love."

"Thank you," I whisper.

He smiles against my hair. "Now, can you please go back to sleep so I can wake Nicky up?"

"Um...why?"

"Because we have plans to make this day special for you. Just play along, please."

I sigh and nod. "Okay. I'll go back to sleep. Just give me a kiss for sweet dreams."

He chuckles and complies happily. I let him roll out from under me, and he tucks me into his warm spot. I keep my eyes closed as he stirs Nicky from his sleep. After they pad out of the
bedroom together, Addison rolls over and cuddles into my side, missing the warmth her big brother provided.

I hold my little girl and focus on what Edward told me. I'm not like Renee. I'm better. She can't hurt me any longer. She can't impact me any longer. As far as she is concerned, I am untouchable. I'm safe. And I will never, ever be like her.

I fall asleep with my face buried in the crook of Addison's warm neck, with her calm, innocent breaths relaxing me.

"Happy Mommy's Day!" Nicholas suddenly cheers, rousing me out of my peaceful slumber. I wake up and see my three loves standing by my bed. Edward is holding a breakfast tray, Nicky has a bouquet of daisies, and Addison has a little box wrapped up in silver paper.

"Oh, how sweet," I gush, holding my arms open. I can tell Edward wants to dive into my embrace, but he lets our babies have their moment with me. I snuggle them close, covering their little faces in kisses. "I love my Nicky and Addy," I coo, accepting their kisses happily.

"Addison, what do you tell Mommy?" Edward prods our daughter.

"Happy Mudder Day," Addison replies proudly, nibbling at her pinky.

"Mmm, thank you, baby," I reply, thoroughly impressed. I kiss her forehead and eyelids. "Such a sweet girl."

"Look at your flowers," Nicky demands, pointing at the bouquet resting on the nightstand.

"I saw them," I assure him, kissing him for the millionth time.

"They're so beautiful. Did you pick them out?"

"Uh huh," he boasts. "And I mixed the pancake batter."

"Toast," Addison informs me.

"Well, then I guess I should eat," I smile at them, giving them the reaction I had hoped for decades ago. "This looks and smells so delicious."

We sit up, and we all have breakfast there on the bed. After we polish off the pancakes, bacon, and toast, Addison hands me the little box. Nicky scrambles into my lap as I open it, watching my face in anticipation. Inside the little jewelry box is a gold heart-shaped locket, hanging on a delicate chain.

"How gorgeous," I enthuse, running my thumb over the locket. "I love it, kiddos. Thank you."

"Open it," Nicky begs me, turning his big green eyes to my face. Who am I to resist a tiny little clone of Edward Cullen?

I find the catch of the locket and carefully open it. When I do, tears fill my eyes. On one side is a tiny snapshot of our little family-me in Edward's lap, holding Addison, and Nicky standing
behind us, arms wrapped around our shoulders. We make quite the picture perfect family, if I do say so myself. And on the other side, three words are engraved.

Best mom ever.

"Do you like it?" Nicky squeals while Addison looks at me expectantly, a big toothy grin on her face.

"I love it!" I exclaim, squeezing them tightly.

"I picked it out," Nicky brags happily, apparently very pleased with himself.

I had already figured that out-Best mom ever isn't really Edward's style. He doesn't like the cheesy stuff. But I wouldn't trade this locket for anything.

Aubade. The word echoes through my head once again. It's true that Nicky and Addison are the sunshine in my life, and they are only here because of Edward. I reach over and take Edward's hand, squeezing it, thanking him silently. He smiles and gives me a sweet kiss on my lips. Edward was truly the aubade in my life, the one who made the new light shine in my life. The one who gave me hope and a new opportunity for a fresh start. I'm not in the midst of sunrise. The sun has already risen. I'm finally loved. I've just been hiding in the shadows cast by my mother, thinking that one little shadow was the nighttime.

No more nighttime, I decide as Edward clasps the locket around my neck. That one resolution is enough to literally brighten my whole outlook. I've been living in the past for far too long, dwelling on things I was never able to control. And I've been letting that control my present and future. My mom, even though she hasn't seen me in years, has been keeping me from enjoying life and living it to the fullest.

I sigh happily as I hug Edward, earning a soft kiss on my temple from a pair of smiling lips. "Thank you for my sunshine," I whisper in his ear.

He doesn't even look at me questioningly. He already knows. Edward is my present. Edward is my future. Nicholas and Addison are my present. Nicholas and Addison are my future. There is nothing from the past that can hinder that or make me even doubt that.

"Dive bomb on Dad!" Nicholas suddenly shouts, tackling his father. Addison squeals in delight and jumps on top of me, her chubby little fingers seeking out my ribs. Before I can even react, a huge tickle fight has erupted, distracting me from any thoughts about anything remotely serious.

And, to be honest, I wouldn't have my little epiphany end any other way.

Maybe it's a little...unorthodox for Twifiction. But I like it.

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