FYI: I will be dealing with Arizona's PTSD in the next few chapters. I have never been pregnant, nor have I lost a limb, but I have PTSD and writing about it is really important to me, because I don't think they portrayed PTSD well on Grey's, especially the symptom of dissociation and the need for trauma therapy.

August 27th

Arizona rolled over and looked at the clock 4:28 am. Everything ached- especially her leg. And she was strangely nauseous, even though she was well into the second trimester at almost 15 weeks. Arizona massaged her taught stomach, hoping she could fall back asleep. She had always been a back sleeper, but now every morning she woke up and the arch of her back hurt so much that sometimes it woke her up. She rolled from her left side to her right, still not used to the new shape of her body. Callie was, of course, still fast asleep. Arizona's mind began to wander, and she wondered when she would start to feel them move. Then the panicked thoughts came - would she get to that point? Would she miscarry? Would the worst happen again? Her heart started to beat faster, and she felt the sudden urge to run. But she couldn't, because she had lost her leg.

Arizona sat up in bed and cradled her belly with right hand, scanning the dark bedroom. Her left foot tapped, tapped, tapped, and she realized she was doing her safety checks. She couldn't concentrate on anything, and her nausea was rising. She put on her right prosthetic and tiptoed out of the room. Then she walked downstairs and paced back and forth, finding the repetitive movement incredibly soothing. She was no longer aware of the nausea – all she could think of was being safe. She checked on Sofia, sleeping soundly. Then she went and checked to see that all the doors were locked and the oven and stovetop off. She finally sat down at the kitchen counter and realized she could barely breath and was started to gag. She walked as fast as she could to the bathroom off the kitchen and brought herself to the floor. She wiped her face, which was wet. She tried to catch her breath, unsuccessfully. She was in a rhythm of gag, swallow breath, gag, swallow, breath. And then she couldn't hold it in any longer and the few contents of her stomach came burning up her throat and messily into the toilet. Again, she heaved and burned. Again, again, again. Until there was nothing left, and she just was gagging with nothing to come. She crumpled onto the floor, feeling utterly broken. She knew this wasn't normal. Silent, steady tears flowed down her face, uncontrollable. She huddled in a fetal position, brought her left knee as close as she could to her chest (her bump prevented it from getting too close) and she wrapped her arms around it and rocked back and forth. She was not capable of carrying a pregnancy, that she knew. She was too broken. She wasn't like Callie, who got through the car crash without PTSD. She couldn't handle the plane crash. It was too much – everyone was going to die, and she had no control. And all she wanted was control.

Arizona didn't know how long she sat on the floor, but at some point, she realized she needed to get up. She slowly pulled herself off the floor, swooshed her mouth with water, and slowly walked to the kitchen, in a completely different state than before. She was in a haze; she didn't know where she was exactly, and she felt like the days after the plane crash. She picked up her cell phone and wasn't quite sure how she managed to dial the number of Grey-Sloan memorial, but she did. She wouldn't be coming in today. She was taking a personal day for a family emergency. That emergency was her. Only after she hung up did she realize that she actually had an appointment with Dr. Stewart later that day. So, she would be going in, just not to work. She wordlessly walked upstairs, holding onto the railing for support, while also fingering her hair. Her fingers got stuck on some dried vomit.

She walked into their bedroom. Callie was still asleep. Arizona still had no idea what time it was. She striped of her clothes, dropping them on the floor, piece by piece. She got in the shower, sat down in the shower chair they had purchased for her, took off her leg, and turned the water on hot. She looked down momentarily at her body, which wasn't hers. First, she looked at her legs, with right prominently missing right above the knee. That was not hers. Then she looked at her torso, with a strange, and prominent protrusion that had just enough shape and tightness for her to know this wasn't just weight gain. There weren't rolls when she bent over. It wasn't that soft, bendable, curvaceous bend of stomach from when she was a little overweight in med school. It was foreign. It wasn't her.

She sat under the pounding water, turning the temperature up, up, up. The water felt like a giant hug. It surrounded all sides of her. She ran her fingers through her hair unconsciously and worked out the vomit. She poured shampoo on her head, but was too exhausted to wash her hair, she left it at the top of her scalp until the pounding water washed it down the drain, without having actually touched most of her hair. She crossed her arms around herself, attempting to hug herself and put pressure on herself. She moved down ever so slowly. That was her back – the same every so slight feeling of her spine. That was Arizona. She could feel the mole on her back she stuck out over so slightly. That was Arizona. She closed her eyes, felt her collarbone, which was there. That was normal, that was Arizona. Then she moved down, felt her breasts – a little bigger than normal, but about the size from when she was overweight. Not normal, but still Arizona. Then she moved down, caressed her growing stomach. It was not Arizona, not normal. She felt her heart rate rise again, and she felt utterly out of control. She turned up the shower pressure and stood right beneath the scalding stream hitting the center of her chest. Her heart rate slowed. The water pounded. She was Arizona.

At some point, the door creaked open. But Arizona could not hear. All she heard – all she felt – was the hot, painful pressure of the water. And then it was gone. There were arms around her, pushing her into the shower chair. As the water subsided, Arizona began to take in the noises. Someone was saying something. Someone was saying something loudly. That person was holding her.

"Arizona, Arizona!" It was Callie. Arizona slowly opened her eyes. Callie was panicked. "What were you doing? Are you okay?" Callie was sobbing and trying to figure out what to do. She was running a cloth under the sink water.

Arizona opened her mouth to talk. She couldn't.

"Arizona, Arizona, I love you, I love you, what are you doing?" Callie pressed the cloth on Arizona's chest. For the first time, Arizona felt something, and she let out an uncontrolled scream. Callie was applying a cool cloth to her chest.

"Arizona, you were in the shower for over an hour. You had it on past the hottest child safety setting. You might have burned yourself. What were you doing?" Callie squeezed Arizona's hand tightly.

"I don't know… "Arizona whispered, "I just wanted to feel safe."

"You're safe. You're safe." Arizona no longer felt like crying – everything felt numb. And safe. Callie kept the pressure on her chest, whispering, "I think this will be okay, you knew our hot water heater was broken, why did you do this… I think I got here in time…"

Arizona wasn't sure how she got dressed, or if Callie dressed her, but somehow, she was in leggings and an oversized Bowdoin sweatshirt, and Callie was prepping a quick on the go breakfast for Sofia and herself and talking to Arizona, explaining her day. Arizona nodded along, realizing she must have told Callie what had happened.

"So, you'll stay home today, take care of yourself, text me or call me if you need anything? You're really okay, 'zona. Everything," Callie glanced down and Arizona's stomach, "is going to be fine. You are overreacting, it really, really is okay."

"whaz'okay" Sofia slurred while trying to talk through eating her PB&J.

Arizona smiled, "I just wasn't feeling well this morning, and Mama helped me. I'm okay now, and I am staying home today." Arizona felt love bubble up in her so much for Sofia, so much that all she wanted to do was smother her in a giant hug. And in her pit of her stomach, she realized that could love the two fetuses inside her that much, and that terrified her. She watched Sofia, so carefree and happy, bounce around the kitchen, completely content with her two mothers, and excited about the day. Callie put her hands on Sofia's shoulders, attempting to control the bouncing child (unsuccessfully).

The two left, and Arizona sat down at their office desk to call in some notes before taking the day off. She only had eight charts to review that needed more help that the residents could do. She wrote her notes and went about her day until she got to the last, Maia. Her heart sank. Doctors weren't supposed to have favorites. But Maia was a special case, and every time she came back, Arizona's heart broke a little more. Some kids just never had any breaks, and Maia seemed to be perpetually one of those kids. This time, Maia had a reaction to the pain medication and thus couldn't stop bleeding. They weren't able to resect the benign mass because the focus had been on controlling and cauterizing the bleeding after Maia had that reaction. Arizona wrote her recommendations, then texted Meredith:

"Hey Meredith, I'm taking a personal day, but when you round of Maia, can you call me? I'd love to give her a quick hello over facetime."

Arizona packed up and headed to her Subaru. She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but she needed to get out. Suddenly, she was at the outdoor mall. She walked around, wandering in and out of stores without purpose. She found herself in J. Crew, fingering the beautiful blouses and dark wash jeans. She loved shopping.

"Would you like to try that on?" she heard a voice ask. She was startled.

"Oh, um, I'm just browsing. But I guess."

"Great, what size are you?"

Arizona paused. She wasn't sure. Was she at the point where she needed to where maternity wear? Would that be… presumptuous? Arizona was not superstitious, but… this felt strange.

"I'm not sure, actually. I usually wear a 4, but… I'm not sure anymore." Arizona gulped; she really didn't want to say that she was pregnant to this random salesperson. "Maybe we could try an 8 or 10? Just… to stay safe."

"you're so tiny! I think a 4 or 6 might fit better? I can get you our size guide?"

"I… er… have, uh, stopped exercising and want whatever I get today… to fit for that future?" Arizona felt like an idiot. But… something in her head, she didn't want to jinx the pregnancy. Why was she even shopping? She wasn't even that pregnant.

"Why don't I bring a selection to a dressing room and let you try them out?"

In a moment, Arizona was in a dressing room with a dozen pairs of trousers. She went from bottom to top. She couldn't come close to buttoning the 4's – she couldn't even get them up all the way over her button – the front of her body protruded too much. The 6's she could get up, but the two parts of the fabric with the zipper were stretched so far apart that she couldn't pull them to button. The 8's could be buttoned, but she felt like she was going to burst. She looked in the mirror. There it was, her bump, a distinct curve being squished by jeans which clearly didn't fit. But, she noticed, everywhere else, the jeans hung off her like sweatpants, and she had a couple inches trailing on the ground. She sifted through the rest of the jeans – the salesperson had gone up to a size ten – but what was the point? She would grow out of them soon, and her legs weren't going to be growing wider or longer, and soon, she would have the same problem with these jeans as with the others. She got to the bottom, and noticed maternity jeans – in her prepregnancy size. She slid them on – a little lose on top, but shapely around her legs, not too long, with an elastic waistband that would stretch as she grew. She pulled it up just a little on her rounded belly, so the waist band sat just below her belly button. It felt so comfortable.

As Arizona looked at herself in the mirror, wearing the maternity jeans, she felt really, truly pregnant and safe at the same time. She still could cover her bump with flowy tops, but she felt comfortable. She put her clothes back on, and took the maternity jeans to the counter. "Could I get three of these – in different colors if you have them?" smiling confidently at the salesperson who gave her a knowing smile.

In her new jeans, a flowing cardigan, camisole and her favorite blundstones, Arizona headed to Grey-Sloan for her appointment, feeling like a new person. She checked in at the Psych department, and sat in the waiting room, looking around her. All these people – they looked completely normal. Old Arizona would have been anxious about someone seeing her here. But now, she looked around and realized all these people were just like her. A young boy played with toys in a corner while someone she supposed was his mother sat near him, bouncing a young child in her lap. Arizona's hand drifted to her stomach, which the camisole was stretched tightly over when her cardigan was not buttoned. She noticed an older woman smiling and staring at her, which she returned with a smile, but quickly took her hand away and rebuttoned her cardigan. She sat in the waiting room, thinking about what could bring all these people here. Suddenly, she had a lot more compassion for people who went to therapy, even though, she thought, she had needed it for a long time.

"Arizona?" A voice came from the doorway to the office. It was a bit jarring to not be called Dr. Robbins, but this was normal, Arizona supposed. A tall woman with shoulder length honey-blond hair and a long neck beckoned. Arizona noticed she had kind eyes – she wasn't sure what made them so, but she felt safe. They were a dark, rich brown.

Arizona smiled shyly and walked toward the door, still clutching her purse tightly in anxiety. The twists and turns from reception to Dr. Stewart's office felt like forever. Arizona wasn't sure whether she was supposed to talk or not. They finally to the office, which had toys and games and impressive credentials framed on the wall. Arizona sat nervously on the couch and played with the corners of her curled hair.

"It's nice to meet you, Arizona. Thanks for filling out all the intake forms online – that helps Grey-Sloan a lot."

"Of course, I'm used to the system. It's nice to meet you, too."

"So, before we begin, do you mind if I take a few notes? I usually only do this the first intake appointment, but it's helpful as I get know you." Arizona nodded in agreement. "So, what brings you here? I noticed that Meredith Grey recommended you see me."

Arizona paused. She wasn't sure where to begin. "Well, there's a lot. But I also think I'm fine. I can handle things. And… I'm not quite sure why I'm here."

"Why don't we start with why Meredith thought you should see me?"

"I… uh… recently got back with my wife. We had been separated. And. Um." Arizona paused. How much did she want to tell Kate? "I might have PTSD? I haven't been formally diagnosed. But… I have been through some things in the past couple years… which I haven't handled as well as my wife."

Arizona looked at Kate, hoping she would say something. The silence was unbearable. She wanted Kate to drag it out of her. The silence engulfed the roomed. Arizona avoided eye contact with Kate, looking at every object as opposed to meeting her eyes. Finally, she met eyes with Kate and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I was... erm… in a plane crash about two years ago. I… lost my right leg. We were in the woods for days. I lost…" her voice broke, "the father of my child and my friend. And I can't stop thinking something awful is always going to happen. I feel…" Arizona struggled for words, looking up at Kate. She bit her lip so hard she thought she would draw blood. "I feel like I am always thinking about what could happen. I can always tell you the worst possible thing that could happen in any situation and how to prepare for it."

"Thank you for opening up to me and sharing all that. It certainly sounds like you have been through a lot in the past couple years, and that you are experiencing a lot of symptoms of PTSD and anxiety. These are certainly things that we can work on together, if you feel comfortable working with me. We can talk about what that would look like, but, I'd like to know a bit more, if you're okay with that. We can go as slow or as fast as you would like."

Arizona paused, pursing her lips. "I'm… not sure how much I feel comfortable talking about today. But… I know I need a different type of therapy than I've been in before. I've… made a lot of mistakes with my wife in the past years, and… I think a lot of those were my freeze and flight responses to the plane crash. I'm always scared. Always. I wasn't like this before."

Arizona was still so anxious, despite feeling like this was going well. She couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. Back and forth she moved them, restless, not sitting still on her lap, nor on her legs, nor clasped together.

"Arizona, I want to tell you that what you are feeling is completely normal and natural. You are not alone, and your reaction to trauma does not mean you are less strong than others. We can work on helping you understand why you have these reactions and what you can do to address those feelings and anxiety and reduce those symptoms."

Arizona nodded and looked away, breathing in and out, and, once again, looking everywhere except Kate.

"Okay. Okay." Arizona clenched and unclenched her hands and repeated. "Um… how much do I need to tell you today?"

"I think a good goal for today is to talk about your history, whatever you feel comfortable with, and talk about setting goals for therapy. We can start out with just the facts, not as much feelings, today, if that makes you feel safer."

Arizona nodded in agreement, and told Kate about the plane crash, what happened, Callie not understanding how different she was and how everything was changed after the crash… and how Arizona cheated. She told her about Sofia and the car crash, almost losing Callie, almost losing Sofia. The facts started tumbling out. But she stopped at the IVF attempts, and somehow skipped from their reconciliation post-Lauren to getting back together a couple weeks ago. She skipped telling Kate that she was currently pregnant or her anxiety attacks about being pregnant. But she felt good about what she said.

"Arizona, I want to thank you for all you shared with me today. That was very brave and I feel honored that you felt comfortable sharing so much with me today. I think, after hearing all that, that meeting once a week would be appropriate. Does that work for you?" Arizona nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like me to know?"

Arizona nodded, "I'm not sure how to say this… but sometimes I do this thing that Calliope doesn't understand. When I can't stop thinking about safety, I do things.. and have no idea how much time has passed and physically can't feel my body. Today…" Arizona hesitated. Should she say this? She didn't want to be sanctioned – she wasn't a danger to herself, she just didn't know what was going on. "Today, I burned myself on accident because I forgot our hot water heater was broken and I couldn't feel how hot the water was and didn't know how much time had passed. Callie thought I was crazy."

Kate looked at Arizona, and Arizona felt herself melting and knew she had made the right choice. "Arizona, that is normal. That is called dissociation and a lot of people with PTSD struggle with it. We need to work on preventing you from getting in those situations so you don't hurt yourself, but we can talk about it next week? I want you to know that dissociation is a very common symptom – it doesn't mean you want to hurt yourself, and it is a natural instinct to try to protect yourself." Kate smiled, and it was the warmest smile Arizona had seen.

"Okay."

"And if you need me in the meantime, please email me."

Arizona walked out, in her new jeans supporting her burgeoning, hidden belly, feeling much better than she had not 10 hours before. But something else was different, and she couldn't put her finger on what it was, exactly. But she was cautiously hopeful that someone understood post plane crash Arizona for the first time, and that, maybe, just maybe, she could heal enough to get through this pregnancy.