If someone had told Amelia Shepherd that she would be where she was right now a year ago, she would have told them to go check themselves in to the nearest psyche ward.
365 days ago. That was the exact number of days that had gone by since she had scored a bag of oxycodone from that junkie doctor, and told herself that this was it. She no longer had it managed anymore, and she so desperately wanted to have that blissful cloud of narcotics to quiet the pain of her brother's death that was slowly eating away at her. 365 days since she had let it all in, hands clawing on to Owen as if he were her lifeline (which she tells herself now that he most probably is) while he rocked her back and forth, whispering over and over that she was going to survive this.
Day 365, and she gets this kick of euphoria as he slides his hand across her swollen stomach and rests it there, before gently pulling her closer into where he lies, breath gently tickling the back of her neck. She knows he is still fast asleep, because he does this often now, unconsciously pulling the two of them in to the warmth of him as he sleeps, like it's his way of instinctively protecting them, and she chuckles at knowing she's going to have to tell him to turn it down a notch once she is here.
They weren't supposed to know she was a she. In fact, Robbins to this day still apologizes endlessly for giving it all away, for informing them that she was healthy, and that she had ten fingers and toes, a strong heartbeat, a brain.
And when Amelia imploded and broke, letting the sobs consume her, Arizona was horrified and began apologizing profusely, rabbiting on that it was just out of habit and that Amelia was a colleague not a patient, how stupid of her not think about checking.
But it wasn't the she, it was the healthy. Her baby was healthy and alive, a beautiful mix of her and Owen.
It had been unexpected, of course. A terrifyingly beautiful surprise that had crept up on them barely two months after they'd found their footing with one another. She had remembered praying to whatever god was out there that she could make healthy babies, and exposing every part of herself to Owen, telling him that she was terrified of putting him through the hell that she had to deal with last time.
He'd been her lifeline even then, promising her over and over that whatever happened, she had him this time, and at the end of the day, it was her that was enough for him, she didn't need to give him anymore. She's sure she's never loved anyone as she'd loved Owen right in that moment
At that moment, she feels a flutter of movement at the surface of her stomach, and she quickly drops a hand down to where her daughter has decided to move around, instinctively rubbing it back and forth along the expanse of skin.
"Hi." she breathes, voice so quiet in volume that Amelia can barely hear it herself, but knows well and truly that her daughter can. "I can't wait to meet you."
Just then, Owen's fingers interlace with her own over her stomach, and she feels a kiss being pressed to her temple. He doesn't say anything, and neither does she. This moment is already speaking immense volumes, and Amelia has never felt less alone in her life.
If someone had told Amelia Shepherd that she would be where she was right now 365 days ago…well…she's not sure what she would say, truthfully. A lot can happen in a year.