BPOV

"How's it going with your mom?" Alice timidly asked. These days she treaded the baby and baby-adjacent topics very lightly. Weeks had passed since I spoke to Charlie about my decision and Alice and I hadn't really had a chance to talk about any of that stuff yet.

I shrugged. "I haven't really gotten anywhere."

"She's just not answering?" The concept of a flaky mom seemed confusing to Alice, like she couldn't fathom a mom who didn't nurture and place her children at the center of her life. Probably because she grew up with a mom who didn't go months without checking in with her kids. Since I decided that I wanted to keep this baby I had a running list of all the things I swore I would never do- all the ways I'd never make my child feel. This was probably number one.

Either way, it was kind of funny thinking about what my next conversation with Renee would look like.

'Hey, mom. It's me, your one and only child. We haven't talked in a few months, but I just thought you should know I'm very, very pregnant and in a matter of a few weeks you'll be a grandmother. Isn't that nice?'

I internally scoffed and focused on the moment at hand. We were walking through some giant department store, the kind that carried everything a person would ever need in their lifetime. I pushed the cart while Alice frantically looked things over and added them to the cart. The only thing I had added so far was the pregnancy pillow my doctor and Esme recommended.

Charlie and I had that difficult conversation about how I wanted to keep the baby, and since then I'd been racking my brain about the logistics of what being a mom would entail. All the things I would need. All the things the baby would need. It all seemed so surreal. I slowed to a halt as we approached the baby section. My heart rose and a sickly mixture of fear and worry flowed through me.

Figuring this was something that I would need to be familiar with, I took a deep breath and with Alice prattling on about school, we turned into the first aisle.

"They're this small?" I interrupted Alice, holding up a newborn onesie. The fabric was soft with a cute pastel duck pattern, but I just couldn't get over how small this baby would be.

Alice shrugged. "I guess so. My mom always said that Edward and I were really tiny."

"But like this small?" I asked again, holding up the article of clothing even closer to Alice. All of the sudden this was the most urgent topic, they were going to be this small and I was going to have to hold them and change them and feed them. And well...everything. And they were this small.

"Woah, Bella relax." Alice took the clothing from my shaking hands. "Maybe, instead of seeing it like that and getting all freaked out. Think about the positive, the good- like how adorable they'll look in their tiny clothing."

"You can't just focus on the cutesy good stuff, this is a lot of responsibility," I protested, trying to make her see just how inept I was. How incapable I was of this much responsibility. These days everyone around me was so certain that I could take care of a child. That I could be a mom. I didn't see it like that. I wondered where everyone got this sense of sureness that everything would be okay. I was a fuck-up. That was my thing. Renee drove that point home constantly for years. And now I was going to be a mother? It all sounded like some sick and twisted joke.

"But you can't focus on the bad either," she interrupted my reverie. Her eyes met my reluctant gaze as she handed me the onesie again. I pushed down all the worries I had and tried to get a hold of myself. "Come on, that's no way to bring a baby into the world."

I grabbed the soft material and put it in the cart. "You're right."

"I know," she laughed.

I rolled my eyes, but kept looking at all of the different things this kid was going to need.

"By the way, we set a date for your shower. All you have to do is be there," Alice instructed. I gritted my teeth and nodded. Alice had caught me at a particularly weak moment and I'd stupidly agreed to let her throw me a baby shower. At this point, I'd take any help anyone was willing to give me. Especially right now, seeing all this stuff that just one kid would need.

We continued walking through the aisle and one of the little t-shirts caught my eye. In pink sparkly lettering it said Daddy's Little Girl. I cringed thinking about this kid's father. Did that even count as a father? I didn't think so, but I'd admittedly given it little thought. I didn't want to think about this child who was only biologically half mine, half... not mine. It made me sick just thinking about it- that this child was part me and part him. It sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to reconcile that a child was not the sins of their biological parents. I knew that. That wasn't the problem. But what if one day, they wanted to meet their biological father? Would they resent that I wouldn't allow that? What if Phil found out and he wanted custody? I internally cringed. It felt a little too much like sending the sacrificial lamb into the lion's den. I knew this was getting a little too far ahead of myself. But the thoughts kept intruding. Kept prodding at the mental wall I built around all of these issues.

That was the problem with suppression, I suppose. It would all eventually bubble out either way.

The phone kept ringing before the same voicemail played again. In the last few weeks, really since Charlie had gotten on my case about talking to Renee, I'd become very well acquainted with Renee's voicemail.

"It's Renee," she'd chirped each time. "I'm sorry I didn't get to the phone- unless I'm ignoring you then I'm not that sorry. Haha, I'll give you a call back!"

I rolled my eyes because what kind of adult had that kind of voicemail. I had been trying to get in contact with her since my conversation with Charlie and I still hadn't been able to get a hold of her. It had been weeks since that conversation and Charlie had been adamant about me telling Renee. Every night I recounted to Charlie the different ways that I had been trying to get in contact with her, and then all the ways she didn't answer.

Email.

Phone calls- both from my phone and Charlie's.

Text messages.

I was contemplating sending her a letter, but I figured that when she wanted to remember that she had a daughter, she'd give me a call.

"Have you tried calling Phil?"

My blood ran cold at just the mention of his name. Coward, I cursed myself.

"No, Dad," I sighed. "And I've decided that I will not waste my time reaching out to someone who wants nothing to do with me."

Charlie recoiled, but said nothing about my confusing reaction. I knew he was trying not to push my buttons, but at 8 month pregnant, I had a lot of buttons. "Let's just relax, okay? I know you're frustrated, but we'll keep trying tomorrow."

I reluctantly nodded and sighed, figuring this was now a good time to go to bed. "Yeah, you're probably right. I think I'm just tired or something. I'm gonna head up. Good night, Dad."

"'Night, Bells."

My phone rang the second I was about to climb into bed. Renee's name flashed across the screen and I took a deep breath as I prepared to tell my mother that she was going to be a grandmother. Hesitantly, I clicked the green button and pulled the phone up to my ear. "Hey, Mom. I've been trying to talk to you. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great." My heart pounded and a sick twisted familiar feeling of dreamed wormed it's way into the pit of my stomach as I instantly recognized the voice. It was not my mother. "I do miss you though. All those times we spent together."

I froze- mind, body, and soul. Froze, unable to do anything.

Coward, coward, coward, my mind taunted.

I felt nothing.

I didn't move.

I didn't even breathe.

Coward, coward, coward.

"Come on, don't tell me you forgot?"

Of course, I didn't forget. I'd never get those images out of my head. And if by some miracle I did, I'd always have the physical scars on my body to serve as a reminder. He and I both knew I could never forget.

It was times like these were all I wanted was to be the person who I pretended to be. The girl- no, the woman who was strong. Indifferent. Tough as nails. A badass. She'd tell Phil off. She'd tell her father. Better yet, she wouldn't have let it happen. Because me? I was none of those things. This side of me was weak. Pathetic. It was a side I didn't like. A side I suppressed at all costs. There was nothing to suppress the emotions flooding my body. It felt like if I opened my mouth for a single second I'd drown and never resurface. I'd spent years avoiding this, this feeling. Helplessness. Fragility. Weakness.

I remembered why I chose numbness. Even numbness was better than this. Feeling nothing was better than feeling everything all at once. And when I couldn't do that, I had plenty of help.

But this time there was nothing to disassociate myself from the tar-like monster pulling me under. There was no alcohol burning at my throat drowning my sorrows. No pot to mellow the sharp edges of what I was facing. Nothing to lift me so high that my problems were no longer in reach. There was nothing. Just the fear holding me by the throat and refusing to let me go. It gripped me tighter and tighter until I couldn't breathe.

I did the only rational thing that I could. I chucked my phone against the wall, smashing it into little pieces and sending the little shrapnel across the floor.

As the fear loosened it's grip on me, I finally could breathe. The first breath was a loud strangled, "Goddamn it."

I slowly sank to the floor violently sobbing and gripping my hair like it was a lifeline. By the time I realized Charlie had been banging on the door, he was entering the room. I didn't really hear what he was saying, and as terrible as it sounded I didn't really care. The rug had been pulled from under me once more. Everything was collapsing around me. I was collapsing in on myself. All the stability I had- all gone by just the sound of his voice. All my strength, all my focus was on keeping myself upright.

Charlie's distant voice was still beside as I continued my mental spiral. Just hearing his voice caused me to completely breakdown. I wanted nothing more to numb these feelings. Even here in Forks I knew where I could find something, anything. I'd take anything to make it all go away.

Subconsciously, my hands found the reason that I couldn't. I felt my protruding belly beneath my hands and I knew I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Slowly, Charlie's voice got closer and I could discern what he was saying, "Bella! Bella, what's wrong?"

His fingers snapping in front of my face as he tried to get my attention.

I shook my head to try and rid myself of whatever haze was left. When I was finally fully alert, I realized how violently I was shaking. I lifted my head and found Charlie crouched down in front of me. I cleared my throat and tried to stand up.

My knees were weak and I was still pregnant, when Charlie realized that I was trying to get up he extended his hand and helped me sit down on my bed. I furiously wiped away the tears.

"What the hell just happened, Bella?"

I looked at him and tried to decide what to tell him. The truth. A lie. I looked over to where to broken remnants of my phone were. "I was on the phone."

"And?"

"And... I don't know, Dad," I offered absently. "Can we talk about it in the morning?"

"I rather talk about it now, Bella," he huffed in exasperation.

"Please, Dad? I'm just tired. I want to get some sleep," I pleaded with him.

"If you don't want to talk, door open tonight."

I immediately knew what he was thinking. "I'd never- I wouldn't- I wouldn't do that, Dad. Promise."

"That's the best offer you're getting, Bella."

"Okay. Door open," I shrugged.

"We'll talk tomorrow," he reminded me. "Good night."

"Okay. Good night, Dad."

By the morning, there was nothing left from my mental breakdown. All that remained was the crack in the drywall from my phone. And perhaps a feeling of hollowness that took root last night.

When I finally made my way downstairs, Charlie was waiting for me at the table.

I sat in front of him and pressed the palm of my hands into my eyes. "I should go replace my phone."

"I'll replace it for you," Charlie replied curtly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"I have an appointment today," I added, not wanting to give an explanation for my behavior last night. Not that I really had one to give.

"Bella," he sighed.

"It's important, Dad. I can't miss it." My voice sounded strange. I knew. And I knew Charlie knew it. It had been months since I sounded like this. This monotone indifference. It didn't suit me anymore but it felt so familiar. All encompassing but not in a way that made me claustrophobic, but more like a warm embrace from a loved one. It was so simple to slip into this, this half-life. This was a side of me I knew well and right now, it was all I had to offer.

Strangely, I didn't care if Charlie wanted me home to talk. I didn't care that he was worried. I didn't really care about anything. It was all moot. All that was left was that small little part of me that recognized I didn't have the luxury of tearing everything apart here. That small fragment of myself wanted to tell Charlie what happened. Wanted to call Edward because he probably was worried when I didn't answer the phone for our nightly phone call. But a much bigger part of me didn't care. So I left.

I couldn't really remember the drive to the hospital. Or how I made it into the office. Or checking myself in. It was all so vague. So blurry. I was functioning on muscle memory and nothing else. I wasn't high, but I may as well have been. I moved slowly, without purpose or urgency. My words slurred and slow like the world was moving around me at warp speed.

I gave my doctor one word answers and vague replies. I couldn't really say how much I didn't care about anything happening around me. Did any of it really matter?

My answer remained a cruel no. With one exception.

My shirt was up and the ultrasound technician was getting me all ready for to see the baby.

And then the feeling of hollowness was replaced with something warm and heartfelt when I heard my child's heartbeat and saw the little baby on the screen. It was like I came alive again. As the emptiness faded, a realization struck me. And suddenly I saw an undeniable proof of the emotional immaturity that had been passed down unto me. Because was it really better to use a child to fill the ache inside of me? To be codependent on an unborn child? Or was it as fucked up as it sounded?

I never told anyone how in the beginning of my life Renee had done that to me. She clung to me and in turn I provided her with every thing she needed to survive. Love, food, empathy, stability. It was on the list of things that I swore I'd never impose on my kid. This one or any other. I knew this moment of clarity would fade and I'd continue on the same path if I didn't say something now. I needed to grow up, that was the harsh reality. Grow up. I couldn't be this half-person anymore, bottling up every single negative emotion only to have it burst later.

I licked my lips and tore my eyes away from the screen. I looked at my doctor, who was measuring the size of my belly. "I think- I think I need help."

I found so much compassion and empathy in her eyes. She nodded in understanding. "I think that's a great idea, Bella."

Hello, friends!

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I've been looking forward to addressing this side of Bella and this is really just the beginning of her healing and actually dealing with that trauma. Please, please, please review and let me know what you're thinking.