I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel and squeezing the water out of my hair.
I then grabbed my pajamas, consisting of a soft t-shirt and athletic shorts, and pulled on my shorts. Stopping in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. At twenty weeks, I was definitely pregnant. I ran my finger along the scar from Bailey's C-section on my stomach. I shuddered from the memory.
I then put on my shirt, the fabric straining from the curve of my stomach.
After finishing getting ready for bed, I crawled under the covers. I sat up against the headboard with the lamp on, picking up a magazine.
I began to read the magazine, but I wasn't really into it. I sat there skimming the pages, something biting at my mind.
I closed the magazine, putting it down, allowing my thoughts to overwhelm me.
I had a lot to think about. What was I going to do with everything, with my life?
'I promise you, you and I will be parents.' Derek had said this to me a while ago. He had kept his promise, I thought to myself, rubbing my stomach, feeling my daughter's fluttering kicks.
Tears came to my eyes like they had practically every day since Derek had died.
What was I going to do?
I tried to straighten out my thoughts in my head. One thing at a time.
I took a deep breath.
Where would we live? I had to decide. Would I stay in San Francisco or go back to Seattle? I needed to decide. If I decided to stay here, I needed to find things for Zola and Bailey. Permanent things. Things that they would associate with home. Things that they would associate with San Francisco.
Along with deciding where to live came deciding my job situation. Derek's share of the hospital and our savings wouldn't hold us for forever. Three kids are expensive.
If I moved back to Seattle, I knew I would have a job waiting for me.
If I stayed here, I needed to start the job search. Now. I knew I would qualify for any job openings, but I also knew what my name would do to me.
Grey. Grey meant Ellis Grey. I would have to deal with her stigma all over again.
Shepherd. Shepherd meant famous neurosurgeon. Shepherd meant dead. How long would it be before my coworkers started to give me the pitiful stares I had left Seattle to escape?
I had so much to think about, and it was all too much. I breathed in and out, trying to settle myself and my thoughts. Deep breaths.
I decided to put off my important decisions, and go to bed. I turned off the side lamp and rolled over. With a hand on my bump, I tried to fall asleep.
The next morning, I woke up early. It was rare that I woke up before Zola and Bailey; they were usually the ones to wake me up.
I walked into the kitchen and made some tea. What I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee.
Sitting down at the kitchen table with my warm mug, I looked at the living room. It was a mess.
I put down my mug on the table and headed to the living room. I cleaned up Zola's and Bailey's toys, straightened the chairs, and fluffed the pillows. It took twenty minutes but it was well worth it.
I was nesting.
Going back to the kitchen table, I grabbed my now-cool tea and moved to sit down on the couch.
Pulling my legs up to my chest until my thighs were touching my rounded stomach, I let out a sigh. I was tired and the day hadn't even started.
