"When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself." -Katniss Everdeen (Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins)
That day, I had stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. Well, mine and Peeta's bedroom at our home in Victor's Village. His old house in Victor's Village that, according to him, I made a home. Still, even sixteen years after I had become a victor during the '74th Annual Hunger Games', the house with four bedrooms, a study, a state of the art kitchen, a huge living room and two full bathrooms along with two powder rooms did not feel like home. I guess that was natural, though. Peeta said it made sense, since I grew up in the Seam. He also always assured me that I'd get used to it, and that it was for the better. I hadn't really seen what he meant at the time, but I sure did when I realized I was pregnant.
He had begged, pointed out happy families and begged some more for fifteen years before I agreed to have a kid. At the time, I was remembering when I was seventeen, telling the man everyone thought would turn out to be my husband and father of my kids, Gale, that I'd never have kids. We had been sitting in the woods the morning before the reaping that changed my life forever. At the time, the Capitol still ruled Panem. They were still using those stupid 'Hunger Games' to scare us into keeping the peace. That backfired though. In fact, it was my participation in the 'Hunger Games', my deception of the Capitol, my giving the districts hope that gave Panem the courage to act upon our pain, that started the second and successful rebellion. That, of course, gave Peeta one more thing in his favor for having kids. Panem was safer. Much safer.
Had that fact not been true, I would've made sure that I never brought a child into the world. My whole life, I had refused the possibility of making another innocent kid go through what many of my generation had to go through. I would've never allowed Peeta to get me pregnant had I thought my child would ever have to go hungry or sit through a reaping or, god forbid, go through the 'Hunger Games' like both their parents. The fact that our world has changed since my horrid childhood was why I was standing in front of this mirror in the first place.
My hand rested on my swollen belly. I was about eighteen weeks pregnant, according to the local doctor. Even though the districts were no longer poor like they used to be, they certainly didn't have the health care availability that the Capitol still had. The only way for her to know how far along I might be was based on my size and my recollection of the times Peeta and I had made love around the time I believed I had conceived. When I first started suspecting it, there was no saying for sure. I was nauseous all the time and missed my period, but that could just as easily be attributed to a flu or something of the sort. A few weeks later, when I had realized a little weight I had put on, I knew. That was just over a month ago and now I was unmistakably pregnant.
Peeta was ecstatic. I was terrified. I still was. Especially now. I could feel it. It was moving, inside me. I could feel it, like butterflies in my stomach. I had been told it was going to be amazing. Make it all that much more real. Be the most amazing feeling. It wasn't. It sure had made things more real. Too real. And now I was terrified. There was an actual baby inside me. And that baby was only a few months away from being out of me. I was actually responsible for another human life, something no one should trust me with. I had killed people in the games. I had killed people during the rebellion, both directly and indirectly. What had possibly possessed Peeta to have him trust me with his child? I felt that flutter again and wanted to scream. Terrified. Fear was all I felt.
There was no love for the baby that I knew was real. Very real. I knew I was supposed to feel love. A lot of love. That's what all my friends who had kids said. That's not what I felt. Seventeen year old me's mind had taken over me. That same mind that hated the idea of bringing a baby into this messed up world. Quickly, I covered my belly with my shirt and ran out of the bathroom, away from the mirror that reminded me of the baby within me. I sat down on the couch before practically collapsing onto my side, sobs taking over my body. I didn't know what to do. This baby. I was supposed to love it, unconditionally. The way my dad had loved me, until he died. I didn't feel that though. I felt fear, guilt even, as yet another flutter occurred and another rack of sobs took over my body.
There, on the couch, my cheeks damp and sticky from tears, my body week from sobbing, my hand still on my stomach, was how Peeta found me when he returned from the bakery. He came right over to me, obviously forgetting whatever he might of been thinking when he first walked in. I'd be willing to bet it was about me or the baby anyway. I felt his hand run over my hair, lovingly. He kissed my forehead and whispered to me.
"What's wrong, Katniss?"
"It moved" I said instantly, a tear created out of pure fear rolling down my cheek. "The baby. It moved" I repeated, as if clarifying.
"Katniss, that's great" he said. I could tell he was trying to hide pure joy as he said it. "What's wrong with that? It means the baby's alive and healthy and growing"
"Exactly" I said. "I mean... that sounded mean" I added, suddenly feeling overwhelming guilt.
"Katniss... Do you not want the baby?" he asked, sounding hesitant and hurt.
At his question, I instantly pushed myself into a sitting position. I wasn't offended by his train of thought. I had refused kids, claiming to not want one, for fifteen years, after all. But still, I didn't want him to think that I didn't want this baby. It just scared me half to death to know that, for the rest of my life, I'd have another life to be responsible for. This baby was real. Alive and real and inside me, waiting to come out. I felt the flutter again and tensed up. Seeing the pain in his eyes, though, I pushed myself to speak.
"Peeta... I... If I didn't want a baby, I wouldn't of let this happen" I said softly. "It's not that I don't want the baby. I'm just... scared" I admitted, almost embarrassed. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire. Katniss Everdeen, victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeen, hunter who illegally sneaks out of the district. Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay, giver of hope to the rebels. Katniss Everdeen, scared of her own baby.
I felt his palm against my cheek, cupping it gently and forcing me to look at him. His eyes, no longer filled with pain, were more-so filled with sympathy. I found myself staring into his blue eyes, as he stared into my grey ones. We sat like that for a while, no need for words, a simple comfort in each other's eyes.
"Katniss... It's okay to be scared. I know your childhood wasn't ideal, neither was mine. I know you never wanted to have a baby in the world we grew up in. Beautiful, I would never wish my childhood upon anyone... parts of it, anyway. But listen. Yes, we'll be responsible for this baby. But Katniss, that means we can make sure this baby's life is better than ours was. We can make sure he or she never gets hit or goes hungry or has to feed herself. Yes, responsibility this big can be scary, but we can do it. Together" he told me. My emotions already running wild because of the pregnancy, I felt a few tears roll slowly down my cheeks. Quickly, I wiped them away. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, which he always did when I was upset or uncomfortable. I tried to smile, only managing a crooked smile. I knew he was right. We could do this. Together. We were meant to do this. Together. But I was still scared of doing this. Terrified. Even if we were doing it together.
That was five months ago. Now, I sit in our bed. Tired. Exhausted, from the homebirth I had just endured. In my arms, I hold my baby girl. My perfect baby girl. She has her father's big blue eyes - slowly fluttering closed as I rock her to sleep - and my dark wavy hair, which she was born with a lot of. Only moments ago, I had been screaming in pain. Only moments ago, my heart swelled at the sound of her first cries. Only moments ago, Peeta, cradling the baby he had successfully helped me deliver in his arms, announced to me that we had a daughter. Now, that baby is cradled safely in my arms. I had never felt love like this before, the love a mother has for her child.
Examining her tiny, beautiful, perfect face, my mind traveled back to the first time I had felt her. That day, I had been scared half to death of being responsible for her life. From then on, that fear faded only slightly and skyrocketed during labor and her birth. Now, though, that fear is gone. Completely gone. I am ready to love and cherish this baby girl in my arms for the rest of her life, or, hopefully, my life. I love her more than anything in the world, except maybe her father - whom I love in a completely different way. By now, her eyes are completely closed and I find out that she gurgles in her sleep. Or, maybe that's just for today, but it's still one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard.
I look up at Peeta, standing in the corner of the bedroom. His face is covered with a look of pure love and awe. I smile and motion for him to come over to us. With a smile, he does just that, sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiles as he looks down at our daughter, the creation of our undying love for one another. The exhaustion from labor is beginning to set in. I guess Peeta can tell because he runs a hand over my hair, smoothing it, and kisses my forehead. I smile sleepily. I let him take the baby, knowing he loves her as much as I do. He lays her in the bassinet, made by a friend of ours, that sits next to the bed. He comes back over the bed and helps me to lay down, as my muscles are still stiff from the day's events. He kisses my lips softly and whispers a simple 'I love you'. I mumble it back. Slowly, he walks away. I open my eyes just enough to see him turn the turn. He kisses three fingers and raises them to me, something that usually brings back horrid memories but, in this moment, only makes me feel more loved and honored than I already know I am.
"I'll come back when she wakes up so we can do this" he tells me softly. I'm barely conscious when I manage to whisper on last word to him.
"Together"
"Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it" -Katniss Everdeen (Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins)