A/N: Hi, everyone! Just 2 chapters and an epilogue left for this story. I can't believe it's almost over. Fun fact: This will be the first story I've EVER completed. I tend to start stories and either abandon them, or lose steam and run out of ideas (I'm not counting Synchronicity since there really is no ending point there as it is a collection of stories). Since I fully outlined this story, and people have been enjoying it, it has really given me the motivation to write and not want to stop. This is why reviews and feedback are important. I don't think I would have been able to even get this close to the end otherwise.
Anyway, this is a pretty quiet chapter that I wanted to use to kind of show readers the relationship between Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen. We will get a lot more Mrs. Everdeen/Katniss moments in chapters 11 and 12, so don't get sad if you don't find anything between them here. This is Peeta's POV, so I want to save those mother daughter moments for the final Katniss POV chapter (11).
Enjoy!
On the last day in May, I find myself walking alone to the train station. Katniss wanted to come – in fact, she insisted. But I couldn't expect her to walk the mile and a half to the train station and back in the late spring heat at 37 weeks pregnant. She argued, "I'm pregnant, not dying," but I still couldn't. In the end, I managed to get her to stay home by promising to make her glazed carrots for dinner after getting home.
By the time I get to the station, mom is already waiting on the platform. There are two large suitcases at her feet, and one in her hand, while another bag is slung over her shoulder. Even though they aren't used as much anymore, the carts for hauling shipments from The Capitol are still lined up at the station, and I grab one before I finally make my way over to her.
"I'm sorry you had to stand here and wait for me," I apologize, greeting her with a quick hug. "Katniss wanted to come."
"Even after I told her she shouldn't," mom says, shaking her head. "I guess pregnancy hasn't made her any less stubborn."
"No," I laugh, grabbing the first suitcase and loading it onto the cart. "If anything it has made her even more stubborn."
After the three suitcases have been loaded, we begin to walk back to the Victor's Village. Mom still has her bag slung over her shoulder while I push the cart. I am suddenly overcome with the realization of what this visit means. This isn't just any visit from my wife's mother – she is here to deliver our first child.
"So, Katniss says you only work fill in shifts at the hospital now?" I question, trying to avoid an awkward silence.
"I'm not getting any younger," she begins, "I've seen too well what running around a hospital can do to a person as they age. With the pay I've been making since the hospital opened, I've been able to make a nice nest egg for myself that allows me to only work when someone else can't make their shift."
"That's great," I smile. "Do you like having all that extra time on your hands?"
"Well, it has given me a lot of time to think about how far I'm going to be from my grandbaby," she says.
"You can come out to see Baby whenever you want," I remind her.
"Oh, I know," she nods, but her voice still sounds sad, "I just wish I had it in me to move back here and see you three all the time. I've missed out on so much." She hoists the bag's strap further up her shoulder, more as a nervous action than anything else it seems. "I'm sorry - I know I'm not the only one that lost people here."
Her apology takes me back to the day Katniss yelled at her mother on a similar walk home from the train station 10 years ago. She accused her of being selfish for not even thinking about how Prim's death would impact Katniss who had no choice but to come back here. It was resentment that had been bubbling for over 5 years at that point, and resentment that would never really go away.
"You don't have to apologize, it was a long time ago," I say.
"And how are you doing, Peeta?" The way she asks the question tells me she's not asking to be polite. I grimace when I think about all of the trouble I caused with my flashbacks.
"I really feel horrible about all of that," I admit. "I can't believe I put her through that."
"You did what you thought was best for your wife and child at the time," she says. Her voice doesn't have an ounce of judgment in it. "And in the state that you were in, being able to make a decision like that is very admirable."
"It was so bad," I say sadly. "So bad… how could I ever think she'd want to hurt her own child when the entire reason she didn't want children for so long was because she was afraid of it being harmed?"
"It wasn't you, Peeta, you know that."
"That doesn't make me feel any less guilty about it," I reply.
"But you are doing much better now, that's what's important. Your baby is almost here. Don't forget to enjoy this final stretch because you are too busy being guilty. These are moments you will never have again with this baby."
Talking to her like this has really helped me understand even more why Katniss wants her around for this. Not only does she know what she's doing, but she's soothing. It makes me wonder how many times over the years she has said these words to other expecting couples, and how many times she's had to sooth the ones whose babies would never even get to take their first breath. Because of that, I try to push my guilt aside and focus on what really matters right now, and I can't thank Katniss or her mother enough for pushing aside their own issues for the sake of our child.
"Thank you," I smile, hoping that my voice holds every last bit of the gratitude that I feel right now. She nods and smiles back, looking forward to the Victor's Village that sits several hundred yards in front of us.
"And how has Katniss been doing? Is she getting any better with the kicking?" she asks.
"Not really," I shake my head, "They are easier for her to get through when I'm there, but when they start and she is alone, it takes me hours sometimes to get her calm when I get home. She is just so scared that something is going to go wrong, and nothing that I say will get rid of that."
"It won't, but you can calm her down and that's going to have to be good enough. This is a fear that women have even without going through what Katniss did."
"So it's a common fear, but worse for her." I say, starting to understand.
When we reach the Victor's Village, Katniss is outside watering the garden. She turns around when she hears the cart rolling closer and waves at us, turning off hose and slowly walking toward us.
"I was getting bored in the house," Katniss says. She looks to her mother then who has dropped her bag from her shoulder and is staring at her very pregnant daughter with a look that I could only imagine is astonishment. Katniss looks embarrassed at her mother's staring, but walks to her anyway, putting her arms out in front of her and meeting her mother in an awkward hug.
Even my hugs with Katniss are awkward these days with the way Katniss' stomach protrudes in front of her. The distance it puts between us makes me feel as though I'm miles away from her, even when my arms are wrapped around her tightly.
"You look beautiful," I can hear mom whisper to Katniss before pulling away. She looks at the bump once more before picking her bag back up from the floor.
"Let's go in the house, it's cooler in there," Katniss says, waiting for her mother to fall into step with her before starting up the front steps.
We chop fresh fruit and put out a pitcher of iced tea before sitting down at the kitchen table. I notice in the sink that Katniss has already taken out the carrots for dinner, and I smile and shake my head at her when she sees I've spotted them.
"So, what do we have to do to prepare for labor?" I ask, grabbing a piece of watermelon from my plate.
"Peeta wanted to have the baby at the medical center, so he wants to be ready for this." Katniss says. There's an air of teasing in her voice, and her mother chuckles at the look we exchange.
"Don't worry, Peeta," mom says, "there isn't much that needs to be done right now. Every labor is different, so it's not possible to truly be prepared. I brought all of the supplies we'll need, plus more. That's as prepared as we can be right now."
Katniss nods, seeming satisfied, but I still have a million questions.
"What happens when labor starts?" I ask.
"You tell me," she smiles. This is routine for her, but it isn't for us. "There isn't much else than I can tell you, because we have no idea when or how this is going to happen." She looks at Katniss then. "Have you been having contractions yet?"
"Just those small ones," Katniss says. "Dr. Huld called them practice contractions."
"How do you know the difference between a practice contraction and a real contraction?" I ask. That question should have a clear answer.
"At first, you don't," mom says. "In early labor, they will feel very similar. It's important to start keeping a log of the contractions, because that's the only way to tell the difference in the beginning." At the looks on our faces, she continues. "Keep a pad of paper and pen somewhere close and write down the times you feel the contraction. You'll start to notice a pattern if it's labor. Practice contractions do not have a pattern."
I get up from the table and quickly find a pen and paper that will now be at Katniss' side at all times. Mom shows us an example of how to log the contractions and explains more about them.
"As the contractions get stronger, you may not be able to walk and talk through them. This is another way to know that you're getting close to being ready to deliver. It's more important to pay attention to contractions than to worry about your bag of water breaking. Some women's never break and it has to be done for them, some break before contractions even start. Don't worry about that."
Katniss nods. I can see in her face that she is trying to remain calm with all of the information she is getting. She doesn't like discussing the details. It only gives her more to fear, but I need to know what to prepare for if we aren't going to be in the medical center for the birth.
"If anything happens while I'm at the bakery please call me as soon as you're sure." I request.
"Of course, Peeta," she nods. "So, do you guys think you're having a boy or a girl?"
"We haven't really discussed it," Katniss says. "We just agreed not to name the baby until we meet him or her."
"Dr. Huld offered to find out during our last ultrasound, but we don't want to know yet." I add. "Do you have a guess?"
"I have a guess, but I won't tell you what I think until after the birth since you want to be surprised." I want to ask her what she thinks, but I know if she tells us, I will dwell on her answer and let it cloud the moment when we truly do find out the sex of our baby.
After our light lunch, I take mom's suitcases upstairs to one of the spare rooms. As I walk up the hall and pass the room that will become the baby's, I stop and look at the space that used to simply be extra - a room that only held guests that came and went year in and year out. Now, it was about to become a room that holds someone permanently.
The room is almost complete now - a white rocker, crib, and clothes dresser are gathered in the center of the room away from the unfinished walls that are painted a mint green, but still bare otherwise. The baby will be spending the first couple months in our room in the matching bassinet, and it will be during that time that I will add the finishing touches to the walls. We agreed to meet the baby first before I decide on what I would paint on the walls.
What will Baby be like? Who will Baby look like? Will Baby prefer the bakery or the woods? These are questions I've been asking myself for weeks now and the closer we get to meeting Baby, the closer we get to beginning to find out the answers.
Over the course of the next three weeks, we start what mom calls "The Waiting Game". Katniss says it's a more polite way of saying we're impatient, and I spend free moments when Katniss is napping on the couch to tell mom the things that calm Katniss when the baby starts to move.
"The thing she seems to like the most is running her fingers through my hair, but I don't think that'll work for you," I joke.
"I've only been here a week and I've noticed her doing that a lot, even when she's already calm," Mom answers. "She's got a thing for your hair, I think." We laugh as quietly as we can, but when Katniss tells us to shut up through her sleep clogged voice, it only makes us laugh louder.
Mom takes over making lunches and helping with dinners, forcing Katniss to lie on the couch with her feet proper on a pillow, because at 38 weeks, Katniss' feet and ankles begin to swell slightly. She spends a lot of her time taking naps on the couch and re-reading the books that Dr. Aurelius sent her all those months ago, finally moving on to the book he recently sent that deals with topics for after Baby is born.
By 39 weeks, I can see that Katniss is struggling to get comfortable in any position that she is in. She wakes up several times a night, never hesitating to tap me on the shoulder harder than she should and make sure that I am awake too. Baby's movements aren't as elaborate any more, but can still be seen and even cause Katniss to wince in pain from time to time. We visit Dr. Huld once a week now – I bring the truck from the bakery to pick Katniss up and take her; there's no way she can walk to and from the medical center anymore.
On June 21st, we meet with Dr. Huld for what we hope is the last time and listen to the heartbeat that is still thumping strongly. Katniss is given an exam to see if any progress is being made, and when she is told that there hasn't been, she looks more frustrated than I have ever seen her.
Dr. Huld also mentions that if things don't happen by the end of the week, we are going to need to come back to the medical center and have another ultrasound and a "few other procedures" to make sure that the baby is still thriving enough to continue to let nature take its course. She mentioned fluid levels and movements and even mentioned the word caesarean if these tests don't bring positive results.
Although Dr. Huld tries to break this to us as gently as possible, Katniss still looks as though she feels she's done something wrong. Dr. Huld tries to assure her that this is a very common and normal thing to happen, especially with first time pregnancies, and that there is plenty of time left for labor to begin before this becomes a real concern, but I think Katniss has stopped listening.
When we wake on the morning of June 22nd, Katniss notes at breakfast that she is now overdue.
"Don't take your due date to heart, honey," Mom tells her from the stove. "It's only an estimate." This seems to only frustrate Katniss more.
By the time I get home from the bakery that afternoon, Katniss is sprawled out on the couch. She's holding the thin notebook that she has been carrying around for the last three weeks that she has been using to log contractions. She is waving it in front of her face, and my stomach drops when I see her holding it. Thinking this is the moment - I walk to her quietly and smile. Why didn't they call me?
"Contractions?" I ask her gently.
"No!" she snaps. "It's just so damn hot in here, I'm using this book to try and cool myself off!" I take a step back and hear shuffling from the kitchen indicating that mom is getting lunch ready. I turn quickly and leave the room, throwing myself down in the kitchen chair.
"She's not happy," mom says without turning away from the sink.
"Thanks for the warning," I reply, running my fingers through my hair. Just then, Katniss trudges out of the living room, huffing loudly as she ignores both of us and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
"She also drank an entire pitcher of lemonade," mom adds. "She's been like this since you left. The only time she calms down is when the baby starts to move." She finally turns around. "But then it's not actually calm, she's just too scared to be mad for a little while."
That night, Katniss is upstairs and in bed before we even finish washing the dinner dishes. When I make my way up to bed, she's curled on her side facing the wall, but not asleep. In her hand is the notebook and she is once again moving it back and forth in front of her face.
"Still warm?" I ask, stepping into the room.
"Why is it so hot in this house?" she says. She sounds as though she can't muster up the energy to sound mad anymore. Right now, her voice is resigned. I don't have the heart to tell her it isn't hot in here, and that it's probably just her, so I tell her that I don't know and pull the comforter from the bed, balling it up and shoving it in the corner.
"We'll just sleep with the sheet tonight," I tell her, walking to each of the two windows and pulling back the curtains. "And we'll keep the curtains open, maybe we can get a cross breeze."
"Thank you," she whispers before turning to watch me as I slip into bed.
"This will be over soon," I remind her. "You're only one day past your due date."
"I don't want to have to go back to Dr. Huld and have all of that work done to make sure it's still alright for me to continue carrying the baby," Katniss confesses.
"Well let's not think about that right now. Let's just take it one day at a time." I say. I reach out and tickle her shoulder and upper arm. She smiles as closes her eyes. "Just get some rest." It's not until I can tell her breathing has evened out and she is asleep that I stop tickling her arm and allow myself to sleep too.
The next morning, when my alarm goes off at 4am, I open my eyes to see Katniss sitting up against the headboard. At this point, it's not unusual for her to be awake even before the alarm. What's unusual is that she did not wake me up like she normally does. I inspect her face and notice she's staring straight ahead at the wall. In her hand, the notebook.
"Are you still hot?" I ask her. She shakes her head.
"No," she says, finally breaking the focus she had on the wall and looking at me. "I think I'm in labor."