Chapter 51
Clarke had lost track of how many times she'd been to the hospital in the past thirty-five weeks. For the remainder of her pregnancy, she had to do weekly visits with Dr. Jackson. It worked out in her schedule, because she didn't have classes on Wednesdays, but it didn't work out so well for Bellamy. Fortunately, working for her dad meant that Raven was able to get the day off and go with Clarke when Bellamy couldn't.
"Oh, wow, listen to this," Raven said as she read something off her phone. "'Your uterus—which was entirely tucked away inside your pelvis when you conceived—now reaches up under your rib cage.'"
Clarke shifted uncomfortably. "Don't remind me."
"'It is ballooning and crowding your other internal organs, too,'" Raven read on, "'which is why you probably have to pee more often and may be dealing with heartburn and other gastrointestinal distress.' Huh."
"Can we talk about something else?" Clarke asked.
"Sure." Raven put her phone away, then angled her body towards Clarke and said, "Okay, not to toot my own horn or anything, but your baby shower is gonna be a blast."
"No, I mean . . . something else? Something besides this?" She looked pitifully at her stomach and whimpered, "It's just . . . I've been pregnant for so long now. So many months. I barely even remember what it feels like to just be a normal human being anymore."
"Oh, don't worry," Raven said, rubbing Clarke's shoulder. "You're in the home stretch. You got this."
She kept telling herself that, but she still had weeks to go, and weeks felt like a very long time. "Just talk to me about other stuff," she begged. "Please?"
"Okay." Although she seemed willing to do that, Raven hesitated, as if she were drawing a blank. "Well . . ." It took her several more seconds to come up with something, and when she did, it was, "Murphy and I had some really great sex last night."
Clarke made a face. "Not that."
"Well, that's the only other thing on my mind. Besides aerodynamics, but I doubt you wanna hear about that."
She really didn't, but it was better than thinking about Murphy in the sack. "Sure. Aerodynamics," she said. "Let's go."
Much to her relief, a nurse came out into the waiting room and said, "Clarke? You can come on back now."
"Oh, thank God." She really hadn't been eager to hear about aerodynamics. Raven could go on and on when it came to mechanical engineering.
Just getting out of her chair was a struggle, and even though Raven offered to help her up, Clarke was determined to do it on her own. The first thing the nurse did when they got back to the room was weigh her. She'd already gained thirty-two pounds and could expect to gain about a pound per week for the rest of her pregnancy.
When Dr. Jackson showed up in the room, he did his routine checkup, then sat down at the computer to type out all her current symptoms. Everything was still normal, he assured her, and it was encouraging that her Braxton Hicks contractions were not too frequent. As he typed, he interspersed non-medical questions, such as, "So, no Bellamy today?"
"No," Clarke replied. "He wanted to be here, but he's going through training at his new job."
"Where's he working?"
"Uh, up at the school."
Dr. Jackson looked . . . semi-surprised. "Oh, is he a teacher?"
"No." She suspected Bellamy wouldn't want her publicizing what he was doing for work, so she left it vague when she said, "It's a different job."
"What's he do?"
Oh, crap. She was backed into a corner now. She didn't have to tell him, but she also didn't think it was anything Bellamy should be ashamed of. Maybe she could think of a different term for it, like custodial work or something.
Thankfully, Raven jumped in with a question to distract the doctor. "Dr. Jackson, is it true that Clarke has to come in for weekly checkups now?" she asked.
"Yes. She's in the home stretch."
Raven smirked. "That's what I told her."
Clarke was glad she no longer had to answer the doctor's question and that he could just come to his own conclusions, if he ever even thought about it again. "I brought my birth plan with me today," she said, motioning for Raven to hand her her purse. She unzipped it, took the papers out of it, and handed it over to Jackson. "I think it's as finalized as it's gonna get."
"Good," he said. "Do you need a copy?"
"No, I already made one." She also had it memorized because she'd looked over it so many times.
"We'll keep this in your records," Dr. Jackson said, sliding it into her file folder. "Looks like you learned a lot in your Lamaze classes."
"Yeah, we did. I feel a little more prepared now," she told him. "Still terrified, but more prepared."
Dr. Jackson smiled, his eyes on her birth plan as he skimmed it. "I see you want to try for a natural birth."
She opened her mouth to confirm that, but Raven interrupted with an incredulous, "Are you crazy? Do you know how much that's gonna hurt?" She must have realized that that wasn't what Clarke needed to hear, because she quickly backtracked and changed her tune. "I mean . . . you're gonna be fine. And that's really admirable."
"There's nothing admirable about it," Clarke said. "Women used to give birth without drugs all the time."
"And you can always request pain medication if you need it," Dr. Jackson reminded her.
"Exactly. I might as well try." Chances were, she'd be crying and begging for an epidural once her labor progressed. But it didn't hurt to start out with natural childbirth in mind.
As they were leaving, Raven apologized, "Sorry for my little outburst. I just can't really imagine . . ." She shuddered. "Well, I mean, the sex alone with Murphy last night was kinda painful. Granted, we were using a-"
"Raven," Clarke cut in. "I don't need a visual."
"Right," Raven said. "So, aerodynamics then?"
"Aerodynamics." Clarke laughed, glad that her best friend had tagged along today. It wasn't the same as having her other best friend there with her, but he was hard at work.
...
It felt weird for Bellamy to be back in his old Spanish classroom, almost like he was seeing it through different eyes. In some ways, everything looked the same—same tables and chairs, same posters on the walls, same stuff on the teacher's desk—but being there as a janitor meant that things looked different, too. The floor looked messier than he remembered, for starters. The tables all needed to be cleaned off. And the trash was overflowing. It looked like the class had had a food day.
His boss, Steve, opened the door to the room and poked his head in. "Blake," he said. "You done with this room yet?"
He wasn't even close to being done, so he lied. "Almost. Was I supposed to wipe off the white boards?"
"No," Steve said. "Mrs. Jansen writes her lesson plans up for the entire week. Now she'll have to re-write 'em tomorrow."
Oops, Bellamy thought. His mistake. But there hadn't been any way for him to know that.
"Hurry up," his boss said. "We got a lot of other classrooms to clean." Then he shut the door and took off at a brisk pace down the hall. Nothing ever happened slowly with Steve. He went right from one task to the next, never off his feet. It was like he wanted to get the work done as quickly as possible, which wasn't easy since it was only him, Bellamy, and one other guy working there. They split up the duties and tried to get a head start on cleaning the classrooms for teachers whose last period of the day was their planning period, but they still had dozens of classrooms, a lunchroom, and multiple bathrooms to clean. Not to mention the gym. Luckily it wasn't basketball or volleyball season, because when those sports were going on, Steve warned him that they could be there until midnight.
Bellamy was pretty sure he'd done something to break his vacuum, so he went around the room picking things up off the floor by hand. Since there was hardly any room in the trashcan, he had to smash it all down. When he lifted the bag out of the bin, it burst open at the bottom, and all sorts of trash fell out, all over the floor.
Right at that moment, the bell rang to signal the end of the day, and when Bellamy heard it, it was so familiar that his first instinct was to grab his stuff and head out into the hallways. The students flocked out of their classrooms, but he wasn't one of them anymore. Most of them were on their phones or too busy talking to each other to notice him in there picking up all the trash he'd just spilt, but one girl walked past, looked in the window, and stopped. "Is that Bellamy Blake?" he heard her ask to one of her friends. That girl looked in at him, too, mouth slightly agape, and said, "No way."
Yeah, it's me, he thought morosely, looking away from them. He felt like a circus animal. Except he wasn't entertaining anybody. He was just working a pathetic job. And they were watching him. He didn't even know who they were, but they knew who he was. They'd probably been sitting in the crowd during all those pep rallies he used to have to speak at. Maybe they'd even been at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Or maybe they'd even gone to the games he'd played in, the ones he'd won and the one where he'd thrown an interception to end the season.
Whoever they were, they must not have been very nice girls. Because as they watched him work, they laughed at him.
...
"I smell like trash," Bellamy lamented as he sat in the bathtub that night.
Perched on the side of the tub, Clarke assured him, "No, you don't," and pressed a sponge to his collarbone. "You smell clean." She squeezed the water out, and it trickled down his chest.
"Well, I smelled like trash when I came home." He couldn't get the smell out of his nose. These first few days on the job had it stuck there.
"You know, you don't have to work there if you don't want to," she said, dunking the sponge in the soapy water again. "You can find another job."
"No, it's fine," he said. "It's just temporary." He'd work there for a couple of months, just to have some steady employment to help support the baby. Steve had told him that the summertime work was hard, physically, but involved less day-to-day maintenance and cleaning since the kids weren't there. They'd be repainting classrooms and even refurnishing some. Manual labor stuff. He could handle that.
Clarke again squeezed the sponge out against his chest, looking down at him sympathetically. He didn't want her feeling sorry for him, though. Sure, his feet hurt after being on them all day, but her feet had been hurting for months. His back hurt, but so did hers. He was tired, but so was she. "I wish you could get in here with me," he said. This bath was pretty relaxing, but it'd be even more relaxing with her.
"I know," she said. "But I've read too much about the dangers of baths during pregnancy. Besides, if I got in the tub, I wouldn't be able to get out."
"I could lift you," he said.
"You could?"
He looked at her belly and said, "Maybe." He could've lifted a normal-sized Clarke without problem.
"Thanks for saying that." She got up with a groan and stretched as best she could.
"No, if it came down to it and I had to pick you up and run you to the hospital right now, I could still do it," he said. "Guaranteed. It just might take me a while."
"And your arms might fall off in the process." She walked over to the mirror and bemoaned, "Look at me. I'm huge."
"You're beautiful." He stood up, got out of the tub, and grabbed his towel off the floor to dry off.
"I wonder what I'll look like after this is all said and done," she said, turning to the side to survey her profile. "I wonder what my boobs will look like."
"I love your boobs."
"I know you do." She turned back around to look at her reflection straight-on and sighed heavily, shaking her head.
Bellamy wrapped the towel around his waist and drifted over to her, embracing her from behind. He put one arm under her breasts and the other on the side of her stomach. "See?" he said. "Look how sexy we are."
She snorted. "You are."
"No, both of us." He kissed the side of her neck and her cheek, then kept his face near hers as they looked in the mirror. "So, you got your baby shower tomorrow, right?"
"Yep."
He halfway cringed. "Do I have to go to that?"
"No," she said. "It's gonna be a female bonding type of thing."
"Yep, I got the wrong hormones for that." He unwound his arms from her and grabbed his deodorant off the sink to spread some under his arms.
"What're you gonna do?" she asked him.
"I don't know. Hang out with the guys, maybe."
"Doing what?"
He shrugged. "Guy stuff." They could go out and shoot some pool or go to Miller's to play some video games. Miller had a massive game collection. And Jasper had a massive porn collection, so . . . there was that option, too.
"You could break out that poker stuff I got you for Christmas," Clarke suggested. "You know, the stuff that you've never played with."
"That's not true," he said. "We've played."
"When?"
"Well . . ." He definitely didn't even remember where he'd put those poker supplies, so it was hard to come up with a lie. "There was that time . . ."
"Oh, just stop," she said. "I know I'm not a good gift-giver. Not like you." She waddled out into the bedroom, and Bellamy smiled, thinking about a particular gift that he had yet to give her, one that would blow everything else out of the water. Small. Shiny. Diamond. She'd love it.
...
Ready to Pop. That was what each balloon in Clarke's mom's house said. Some of the balloons were pink, others white, and a few were even yellow, but they all said the same thing. Hanging above the sliding glass doors was banner that said Oh Baby, and a poster that said It's a Girl! was taped to the counter.
"I'm so glad you decided to have your baby shower here," her mom babbled as she put treats out on the kitchen table. Plate after plate of pink cookies, cupcakes, and Rice Krispy treats. "It really is the perfect place for it. And I want you to know that I did help. Raven planned everything, but I bought everything, and she came over last night and we decorated together."
"Looks good," Clarke remarked. What looked the best was the pile of presents in the living room. Some of the bags and boxes were small, but some of them weren't.
"Is Raven gonna be Avery's godmother?" Clarke's mom asked and took out a tray full of frozen snacks. There were about a dozen small cups of what looked very much like strawberry pretzel salad on it.
"Probably," Clarke said, impressed that her mom had done so much cooking. "Yeah, for godparents . . . probably her and Murphy."
"Murphy?" Her mom laughed and made room for the pretzel salad on the table. "He's a little irresponsible, don't you think?"
"He's a friend."
"But he doesn't even have a job."
"He's a YouTuber," Clarke informed her.
Her mother scoffed at that. "That's not a real job."
"I hate to break it to you, but nowadays, it is." And unlike so many other people his age, Murphy didn't have student loans to pay off.
"Well . . . whatever," her mom said, thankfully dropping it. "Speaking of jobs, though . . . I heard Bellamy lost his."
Clarke momentarily froze, taken aback by the abrupt shift in the conversation. "Where'd you hear that from?" she asked, reluctant to confirm anything.
"Marcus," her mom replied. "He works with kids who go to the high school. They told him Bellamy's a janitor now. They've seen him working there."
Well, the evidence was pretty substantial, it seemed, so there was no point in denying it. "Yeah," she said, reminding herself that there was no need to deny it. So what if Bellamy was a janitor? He wouldn't be one forever.
"What happened to his construction job?" her mom asked.
She wasn't about to reveal that he'd been fired, though, so she simply said, "It just wasn't working out," and left it at that.
Instead of pushing for more answers, her mom pounced on the opportunity to suggest, "Well, it might be time to do a little more thinking about your own career then. What exactly do you plan to do for money?"
"I still work at the bar," Clarke reminded her.
"Beyond that."
She hadn't done a whole lot of thinking beyond that. Her biggest priority right now was having her baby. "I don't know, I was thinking I could start giving music lessons to kids," she said. "You know, singing, guitar, piano. I'm good at all that stuff. And they could come to my house, so that'd be convenient with Avery." She wasn't sure how much she'd charge or how she'd get the word out, but it was an idea.
"I don't suppose you'd reconsider going for your master's, would you?" her mother asked.
"Mom . . ." Her friends were going to be over soon. She didn't want to have this conversation right now.
"I'm not saying you have to take on a full course-load," her mom said. "Just a class or two, maybe. And it doesn't have to be for med school. I mean, have you ever thought about being a biology teacher?"
"No," Clarke answered bluntly. "And we've been through this. I need a break from college."
"Well, then, what about applying at the hospital?" her mom asked. "We should have some openings this summer for nurses. And that doesn't take anything more than a bachelor's degree."
Clarke sighed, and as her mom kept talking, she started to tune her out. She used to be really good at that.
...
There were plenty of other things Clarke would have loved to be doing with her Saturday rather than attending a college fair. But there was a big one happening at a Baltimore high school, so her mom and dad had forced her to go. It was . . . overwhelming. So many booths and tables representing so many schools, mostly schools in Maryland, but a few from nearby states. And there were so many people.
Her mom seemed in her element as she chatted with a recruiter from Loyola University Maryland. She asked a lot of questions, and he had answers for all of them, answers that seemed to make the smile on her mom's face grow bigger and bigger.
"So is it true that Loyola was ranked the top college in Maryland this year?" she asked.
"It is," the man confirmed. "And in addition to that, we're ranked #5 for the region."
"Because of your academics?"
"Oh, it's a combination of everything," he boasted. "Strong academics, a vast network of student support, a variety of housing and dining options, and of course, the financial success rate of our graduates. Not to mention, Baltimore is a fantastic city with so many career opportunities."
"It certainly is," Clarke's father agreed. "I'd love to live here."
"We live in a smaller town right now," her mom said, "and it has Arkadia State College, but I really feel like Clarke would do better in a place like this where she could spread her wings."
Clarke wondered how much truth there was to that, and how much her mom just wanted her to move away from Arkadia so she'd be even farther removed from Bellamy. Not that he'd be spending that much time there after he graduated.
"And what do you plan to study, Clarke?" the recruiter asked her.
Her mom didn't hesitate to answer for her. "Oh, she'll major in biology, just like I did. She's wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. Isn't that right?"
Is it? Clarke wondered. She hadn't told her parents, but she'd talked to both her art teacher and choir teacher about . . . other pursuits. "It's definitely an option," she said, just to keep her mom happy.
"Excellent," the recruiter said, brimming with enthusiasm. "One of my roommates is a biology major. He loves all his classes and all his professors. And that's another advantage that you'll get at a liberal arts school like Loyola versus a traditional university. The smaller class sizes, more attention from faculty, and more emphasis on a discussion approach to teaching rather than a lecture style."
By this point, her mom's smile was so huge that she looked like she'd slept with a hanger in her mouth. "It sounds great," she said.
"It is," the recruiter said. "If you're interested in learning more, you can sign up for a visit."
"Well, we are most definitely interested."
Are we now? Clarke thought bitterly. The way her mom was talking was like they were all going to college. But really, it was just her. There was no point in going to visit that campus unless she was interested.
She let her mom sign her up for a visit in June and didn't argue, just because she didn't want to create a scene. She already planned to go home, though, and look this place up online. If it didn't look like her type of school, they weren't going.
"What do you think about that?" her mom bubbled excitedly as they roamed towards another table. "That place sounds like a good fit."
"It's a private school," Clarke pointed out. "Tuition's really expensive."
Her mom had a response for that one. "I know, but we can afford it."
"It's also a Jesuit school," Clarke said. "And we're not Catholic."
Her mom had a response for that one, too. "Well, you don't have to be Catholic to go there. You heard what that man said. Only about half the students are Catholic."
Clarke couldn't think of any other barriers or reasons not to at least consider the option, so she mumbled, "It's in Baltimore," more to herself than to them. She had no desire to live in a big city like that.
"We're not making any decisions today, Clarke," her father piped up. "We're just exploring our options."
"You know, most people wait until junior year to do this," she said.
"Well, we're not most people," her mom said. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with getting a head start."
It was a pretty big head start. Clarke had thought about college, sure, but not in-depth. The school brought in speakers sometimes, and students could opt out of class to go see them, but mostly only the juniors and seniors did that.
"Look over there," her dad said, pointing to the far side of the room. "The Ivy League."
Clarke felt an immediate sense of pressure as she glimpsed banners for the likes of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Brown. "Dad, I'm a good student, but I don't know if I'm that good." She hadn't even taken the ACT yet. What if she didn't end up with a competitive score?
"We should at least go check them out," her dad said. And there was that word again: We.
"You go ahead," Clarke told them. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Okay," her mom said, already veering towards the Princeton table. "Just meet us back over here then."
Clarke slipped into the crowd, feeling like she could breathe a little easier once she got a little farther away from the Ivy League. That was just way too much pressure to start considering one of those places right now. She didn't really need to find a restroom. She just needed . . . space.
The farther back into the room she walked, the more space she found. Mostly because the out-of-state schools had been shoved back there, and not as many people in attendance were looking at those. She could walk without bumping into the person next to her, and she could actually hear herself think. And she started thinking about a lot when she laid eyes on a small booth and table with one representative and no students standing in front of it. It wasn't for one specific college, but it was for one specific state.
Clarke walked up to the table, and the representative sprang to her feet, seemingly happy to have someone to talk to. "Hello there," she chirped.
"Hi." Clarke picked up a book that said 'Schools of the Sunshine State' on the front and started to flip through it.
"Thinking about going to Florida?" the representative asked her.
She stopped flipping when she landed on a page for UCF and said, "Maybe."
...
"Clarke, are you even listening to me?"
Clarke jerked herself out of her thoughts and answered honestly. "No." God, the one nice thing about being pregnant was not having to worry about censoring herself. "Look, Mom, it's my baby shower today. Let's just focus on that." She grabbed a vanilla Oreo off one of the cookie plates, appreciating that it had been dipped in pink frosting.
"Okay," her mom said. "I won't intrude, I promise. I'll just be a good host. Who's all coming?"
"Raven, Harper, Octavia . . . a couple other friends," Clarke answered. "It's gonna be small."
Her mom nodded and said, "Callie's coming, too."
"What?" Clarke whined. "Why?"
"Because she has a gift for you. Isn't that nice?"
A real gift would have been just staying away, but Clarke wasn't going to let that annoying woman's presence ruin her day. In fact, perhaps there was a silver lining. Her mom and Callie could keep to themselves, and she could enjoy her time with her friends.
Raven was the first to show up, and Lexa came next. After that, it seemed like everyone arrived at once. Harper brought Maya with her, and Octavia showed up with her mom. Clarke was so glad to see Aurora. She knew how busy Aurora was and that it wasn't easy for her to take time off of work, so it meant a lot that she'd taken the time off to be here.
Callie was the last to show up. Clarke didn't even bother to say hi to her. But at least her hope had come true. Callie and her mom were much more interested in sitting in the kitchen and gabbing with each other than playing any of the games Raven had planned. The first game was a variation of pin the tail on the donkey in that it was pin the baby on the mommy. They took turns being blindfolded and sticking a cartoon cutout of a baby up onto a poster of a pregnant woman's silhouette. To make it even harder, Raven spun everyone around first, everyone except Clarke, since she was dealing with enough dizziness as it was.
"A little to the left," she heard Lexa say as she slowly walked towards the poster, clipart baby in hand, blindfold covering her eyes. Then Harper chimed in with, "A little to the right," just to confuse her. Octavia's, "Nope, up a little further," was the final straw.
"Would you guys stop trying to screw me up?" Clarke said. She must have sounded a little more shrill than she'd intended to, because they all shut up and allowed her to pin the baby on the mommy without further interference.
"Wow!" Raven exclaimed. "I think you won, Clarke."
"Did I?" She peeled off her blindfold and saw that she'd placed her baby closest to the stomach, about halfway on and halfway off of it. "Oh, look, I did." She'd definitely gotten closer than anyone else.
"Congratulations!" Raven said. "You get . . ." She reached into her gift bag and, with dramatic flair, pulled out . . .
"A box of condoms?" Clarke said. Wasn't it a little late for those?
"These are the prizes I'm giving out," Raven said. "Take 'em or leave 'em."
"You should keep 'em for yourself," Clarke suggested. Once Avery was born, she and Bellamy wouldn't even be having sex for a while.
They proceeded to play a few more games, all of which involved guessing in some way. They snacked their way through a game where they guessed whose baby picture belonged to which guest. Raven had collected them all beforehand, so she knew the answers, but the rest of them didn't. Maya's was obvious, because she'd always had that dark hair. And Lexa's was kind of obvious, too, because she was kissing her dolly in her picture. Always a fan of the girls. Aurora hadn't brought a photo of herself, but she did bring some baby pictures of Bellamy. He'd been so damn cute, even back then. She gave some of them to Clarke to keep, and Clarke knew she'd have fun showing them to Bellamy later. There was one where he had his little baby potty on his head, and another where he was wearing a little football jersey. So adorable.
The next game required Clarke to stand up, because all the girls cut pieces of string that they guessed would wrap around Clarke's belly. Whoever had decided that pregnancy meant it was socially acceptable for people to put their hands on your belly at all times deserved some harsh punishment, because Clarke hated it. But she played along and let everyone wrap the string around her stomach and see how close they'd been. Some of them hadn't cut enough string, and some had cut too much, but Aurora was the closest to being exact. She said she probably had an advantage since she'd been pregnant twice before and none of the rest of them had, and when Raven offered her condoms as her prize, she just gave them to her daughter instead.
The last game wasn't so much a game as much as it was a prediction. Raven sent around calendar pages for the month of April and May and asked everyone to write their name in on the date they predicted the baby would be born. Harper's guess was the earliest, as she predicted the baby would be born two weeks before the due date. And Octavia's prediction was farthest away, as she wrote her name in a week after the due date. Clarke really didn't want either one of them to be right. She wanted Maya to be right, because Maya was the only one who'd placed her name on the actual due date. Clarke had set that date in her mind months and months ago, so she wanted things to go according to plan.
In between all those games, they'd done their fair share of eating, so they were all pretty full when it came time to open up gifts. Clarke started with Callie's, just because she didn't care about it, but when she opened it . . . dammit, it was actually nice. It was one of those play mats that unfolded and became a little activity gym. There were things for the baby to roll around on and dangling toys to grab at. Clarke had seen them in the store, and the nicer ones like this weren't cheap. So she sucked it up and thanked her mom's best friend, because it was indeed a nice gift, and it would definitely get used.
Maya also went the toy route, but her toys were specifically bath toys, and they were adorable. There were lots of little animals that would float, plus some letters and numbers that would stick to the walls of the tub. The packaging said they were educational toys, so Clarke was all about it. And she knew Bellamy would be, too. He wanted their daughter to be a good reader.
Some of the gifts Clarke received were straight off her registry from Target, and she was so grateful for them. Octavia, who made sure to mention that her gift was also from Lincoln, got her a potty chair for the baby. And it was the one Bellamy had insisted they scan, the princess poop throne. Harper got her the baby bathtub shaped like a tulip, and just looking at it made Clarke get emotional, because she couldn't help but imagine how cute Avery would look sitting in it. Lexa got her a lullaby machine that was a better variation of what she'd registered for. She didn't have to use pre-recorded lullabies on this machine; she could record her own voice singing bedtime songs. And Raven got her a Baby Einstein walker explorer for the baby. Of course genius Raven would get her something with Einstein in the title.
There were some smaller gifts from other people, acquaintances like Niylah and other girls who worked at Eligius, and even a few from people in the LGBTQ club. But not Anya. Those gifts were mostly clothes and toys and diapers, all of which would come in handy. There was a gift from her boss, too, and it was the only gift that wasn't for the baby. Diyoza had gotten her and Bellamy two identical shot glasses, one that said #MomLife on it and one that said #DadLife.
By far, though, the nicest, most expensive gifts came from her parents, and Clarke had actually been banking on them. Her mom and Kane got her a lovely bassinet, and the best thing about it was that it could fold up and be portable. And the gift from her father and Alyssa was so big that it couldn't even be wrapped. They'd gotten her a stroller, probably one of those strollers that cost over two-hundred dollars. Clarke called them right up and thanked them profusely, because that was probably what she and Bellamy had needed more than anything else.
But the most thoughtful gift came from Bellamy's mom. It wasn't one of the bigger ones, wasn't one of the more expensive ones, but it was so sweet. A memory book. Sort of like a journal or scrapbook for her to fill out for this first year of Avery's life. There were pages in there for every single day, but Aurora assured her that it didn't matter if she missed a day, and that she didn't have to fill it out at all if she didn't want to. But Clarke wanted to. Now that she was almost done with her pregnancy, she actually regretted not filling out a pregnancy journal. At least they'd have Murphy's film, though, and those weekly pictures Bellamy snapped of her ever-enlarging belly.
"I love it," she told Aurora, smiling tearfully. "Thank you." She hugged Bellamy's mom, feeling very much like she was hugging a woman who was a second mom to her.
Getting all the gifts home wasn't easy. She couldn't do any heavy lifting, so Raven and Harper loaded everything up in their cars and brought it all over to her house for her. Luckily, Bellamy was home, so they could make him do all the unloading. Clarke was so tired after being the center of attention all day that she couldn't even help him put anything away. Not even the small, lightweight items like the bath toys. She had to go upstairs and lie down.
When he finally came upstairs, he looked tired, too, but not as tired as he had when he'd gotten home from work the other night.
"Did you get everything put away?" she asked him.
"Yeah," he said. "I think we're set."
"Especially since the boys came through with the car seat." She'd been delighted to see that installed in the back of Bellamy's car, rear-facing, just as it was supposed to be.
"Yep, the boys came through," he agreed. "We probably need another one, though, for your car."
"We'll worry about that later," she decided. Car seats, much like strollers, were expensive.
Bellamy sat down next to the side of the bed and placed his hand on her stomach. He was the only person who could touch her tummy and not make her feel like she was some sideshow exhibit in a carnival. "She's gonna be here really soon," he said.
"I know. A couple more weeks. Thank God."
"What," he teased, "you won't miss being pregnant?"
"No, I won't." She wouldn't miss her swollen feet and her frequent bathroom breaks, nor would she miss the absolute struggle that it now was to put her shoes and socks on. She wouldn't miss having to sleep one her side every night, and she wouldn't miss the extra thirty-two pounds she was lugging around.
When Bellamy lifted up her shirt and leaned in to press a soft, tender kiss to her stomach, though, she realized she would really miss watching him do that.
