A/N: So sorry this didn't post yesterday, but with FFnet being fail, I was barely able to get my chapter of Hoarder to post. Some people have said they don't like the flashbacks in each chapter, but I'm sorry, they aren't going to disappear. They are how you get all of Bella's background info and find out things that are important to whats currently going on with her.

My parents were never really the understanding sort. When you come from families like mine and Edward's, you learn at a very young age how important your public image is. All my parents cared about was how we looked to the outside world. Problems were swept under the rug or money got thrown at them to make them disappear. I never saw my parents really be loving or affectionate towards each other. I think theirs was a marriage that happened only because my grandparents saw it as an acceptable match. Looking back now, the one true kindness my parents ever showed me was allowing me to marry for love.

Both of our families came from old money. Edward's father used the family fortune to found Cullen Pharmaceuticals, and as far as my family's money was concerned, it came from well-placed stock market purchases and business deals. Daddy was smart enough to invest his trust fund money in Apple early on and made a pretty profit from the investment. Suffice it to say that Edward and I wouldn't ever have to work a day in our lives if we didn't want to.

Coming from money carries certain responsibilities with it. Because of our financial status, we're expected to act a certain way, and associate with certain kinds of people. Our families are the ones who are always at charity galas, go to church every Sunday, and grace the society pages in the newspapers. I hated growing up that way. I was always so worried about pleasing my parents and doing the right thing and being perfect, that I'm surprised I didn't end up developing a severe case of OCD along the way. I guess that's why I should have known how my parents were going to react when I finally went to talk to them about the problems that I saw in my marriage to Edward.

"Isabella," my mother huffs. "I don't know what you expect from me or your father. These 'problems' as you call them are things you and your husband need to deal with, and I'm quite sure there isn't anything to worry about anyway. You always did have a flair for the dramatic. Are you sure everything is as bad as your making it out to be? I mean really darling, Edward is a good husband. He works hard, provides quite well for you and the children…maybe if there is a problem it's with you and your ability to be a good wife."

My father says nothing as my mother drones on and on about how wonderful Edward is, how he is a good husband. She just doesn't seem to get it though. She only sees the façade…the side of us that we display to the public. I'll give our parents credit for that though…they taught us well enough to know that regardless of what was really going on, we had to look presentable, look like an utterly happy couple when it came to stepping out in public.

I turn my head away from the two of them so they can't see the tears streaming down my face. Just once I wish they would really listen to me, really hear me and help me figure out what to do. Wasn't that what good parents were supposed to do? All I'm sure of now is that I don't want to be like my parents when it comes to my children. I just don't understand how my mother can sit here and listen to me pour my heart out, tell her how I feel like my husband has forgotten about me, how I feel like we've drifted so far apart from each other that I'm not sure if we could find our way back to each other, and still say that she thinks I'm being over dramatic or that the fault is mine for not being a better wife.

"Mom," I manage to whisper. "You don't get it. Edward's changed. It's like he doesn't even remember I exist. We barely see each other or talk anymore. Yesterday was the first time we said more than hello to each other in over a week, and that was just because we needed to talk about something regarding Elliott's school. I can't keep living like this mom. It's killing me inside. I think that maybe Edward and I might be better off if we get a divorce."

"Absolutely not!" shouts my father, finally reacting to what I'm saying. "Isabella, you know better. A divorce is not an option. You know how it would look publicly, and you know the Church's position on it. I will not allow my child to sully our good name because she's sad that her husband can't be at her beck and call. Just think of the field day the press would have with this! No Isabella, you will most certainly not be getting a divorce."

I hated this. I hated that my parents were more concerned with their image than me. Maybe that's why I fell so hard so fast for Edward. He was the first person who ever really paid attention to me, cared about what I wanted and needed, who wanted to see me happy. I think that's why this whole situation hurts so much, because I know who he used to be and who he is now is nowhere near the charming, loving man I had married.

"But Daddy…shouldn't I be allowed to be happy?" I question.

My mother responds before my father even gets a chance. "Of course you're allowed to be happy, but that doesn't mean you cause a spectacle that could be splashed across the newspapers while doing so. I thought I raised you better than this Isabella. You know how important our image is, and you should know better than to voice these sorts of issues out loud. These kinds of things are private matters. Whatever you issue with Edward is, be a big girl and figure it out, but do it quietly. It wouldn't be proper for these kinds of things to be aired out in front of the world for all to see."

After she's said her piece, my mother leaves the living room and heads into the study, effectively ending the conversation. Realizing I'm not going to really ever get them to understand, I quickly kiss my father on his cheek and make my way back home, where I end up crying myself to sleep.

After that colossal mess of a conversation with my parents, I thought long and hard about everything. I honestly couldn't care less what got said in the media if Edward and I got a divorce, but I was worried about the children, and even more so, how I would be viewed in the church. Growing up Catholic, there are certain things that get drilled into your head, and while Edward and I may not have adhered strictly to everything the Church had to say, I knew we both took our marriage vows seriously, and viewed them as not just a promise to each other, but a promise to God as well. We still attended Church each week, or when Edward was busy, I at least made sure to go with the children. I guess that's why in all my thinking about everything I kept hearing my father's voice saying 'you know the Church's position on it' over and over.

I struggled to try to sort everything out in my head. As much as I hated to admit it, my parents were right, at least as far as the Church's point of view was concerned. Divorce wasn't an option in the eyes of the church so I needed to try to figure out something, plus as I looked at my sons; I didn't want to make them have to worry about choosing between mom and dad. Things were always better when I was pregnant. Edward was more attentive, kinder towards me, and at least then he remembered that I existed. If only he would agree to try for another baby, maybe we could get things back on track again. I knew he wouldn't agree though, and I guess that's why I just chose to "forget" to take my birth control. I mean, no form of birth control is 100% effective, and hopefully once I got pregnant, Edward would be excited enough about the pregnancy to forget that I tricked him into it. The only problem was, Edward was so distant and barely home enough for me to even have a chance to get pregnant again.

It was almost two months after I stopped taking my birth control that everything just got to be too much, and Edward and I had a huge blow out. I couldn't stand it anymore and one night during dinner after the children were in bed, I just blurted out the question of whether or not he wanted a divorce. Edward was adamant that he didn't want one, that things were just hectic at work. I begged and pleaded for him to try to be home more and he argued that I needed to learn to be more understanding and more appreciative of how hard he worked to provide our family with a good life. We fought hard that night, throwing plates and glasses, but by the time it was over, Edward and I ended up in our bedroom, with me pinned up against the wall as he took me roughly. I reveled in it, and loved every second of it. It was the first time in a long time that I felt any sort of connection to Edward. Afterwards we fell asleep wrapped up in each other after finally really talking to each other.

Edward agreed to try to be home more and I agreed to try to be more understanding about the demands of his job. Little did Edward know that I would end up pregnant that night. As much as I had accepted that Edward didn't want more children, all I could remember was how loving, caring and attentive he was when I was pregnant with Elliott, and how he was home all the time after I had given birth to Michael, so I made the decision to stop taking my birth control in the hopes that having another baby might help get us back on track. Needless to say Edward was beyond pissed when I first told him and didn't come home for a week. When he finally showed up again, he was happier. He told me he was okay with us having another child, but then followed that up with the announcement that he had gone and had a vasectomy to prevent any future "accidents" and that he wanted me to get my tubes tied after the baby was born just as an added preventative measure.

My plan of the pregnancy helping me and Edward get back on track was quickly shattered. As distant as Edward was during my pregnancy with Michael, he completely ignored this one, only acknowledging it when people would offer congratulations. He never asked me about anything having to do with the baby, or attended any of the doctors' appointments with me except to find out that we were having a girl. He didn't even offer to help pick out her name. I knew better at this point than to even ask if he wanted to help with the nursery, so once again it was me along with Rose and Alice who got the room set up and decorated.

Looking around Samantha's nursery, I can't help but smile to myself as my hands instinctively wrap themselves around my stomach.

"Don't worry baby. Your Daddy is going to love you just as much as Mommy does." I say to my unborn child. It's the one truth I know for sure. Edward may not have wanted this pregnancy, but I know he'll love his daughter…even if he doesn't love me anymore, at least not the way he used to. Sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner, I just enjoy the quiet of the moment as I try to will the dull ache in my back away. I have the house all to myself with Edward away on another business trip and the boys spending the weekend with their Grandma Cullen at the lake house. Out of nowhere, I feel a sharp pain and can't keep the grimace off of my face. I've felt this pain before, I know what it means, and now I really wish I wasn't home alone.

Another contraction hits as I try to grab my hospital bag from my room. I'm frantically dialing everyone I can think of…Alice, Edward, Rose and Emmett…but no one is answering. I'd call my parents but they are off on a Mediterranean cruise. Grabbing my bag I make my way to the stairs and just toss my bag down to the first floor. Slowly I make my way down the stairs, stopping when another contraction hits. I'm not sure at this point if I'm crying because of the pain or because I have to go through this alone. Finally I make it to the car, and make two more phone calls, one to my doctor to let them know I'm on my way to the hospital and the other to Edward. When his phone goes straight to voice mail, I leave a message pleading with him to come home because the baby is coming.

After I get to the hospital everything is a blur. I'm checked into a room and hooked up to a fetal monitor, but shortly afterwards, the nurses are calling for the doctor and there is talk about heart rates, and breach position, and things I don't quite understand. My doctor tells me that he needs to move me to the operating room, because he needs to get the baby out quickly. I try my best to keep my fear at bay but the tears come anyway and all I keep asking for is to make sure Samantha will be ok and for Edward because I'm just too afraid to be doing this alone.

I start shivering in the operating room as everything gets set up, and a young nurse, I think her name is Bree, comes to me with a sad look in her eyes telling me that she wasn't able to reach my husband, but that Alice and Jasper finally answered and they are on their way now.

"Please stay with me," I beg her. "I'm too scared to do this alone."

Bree just nods her head, takes my hand and sits on the stool that's near my head.

Just after the anesthetic is kicks in, I hear the doctor telling me he's about to begin the c-section. A few minutes later I feel tugging and pulling before the doctor says "It's a girl!" After that, all I hear is silence when I should be hearing my baby cry.

Turning to Bree I ask "Why isn't my baby crying?" My voice laced with worry.

"I'm sure everything is just fine." She tells me, but I can see it in her eyes, something is wrong.

I'm not hearing my baby cry, the nurse hasn't brought her over for me to see her…all I hear are hurried and whispered words amongst the doctors and nurses until I eventually hear someone tell someone else "Page the NICU and tell them they have a new one incoming."

I turn to Bree again, "Is my baby ok? Please find out if my baby is ok."

Bree squeezes my hand once before leaving my side to go find out what's going on. I feel so exhausted from everything that's happened, that despite how much I try to stay awake to hear back from her, I end up giving in to sleep before I ever get to hear what Bree found out. When I wake up, I can tell at least that some time has passed, as the sun is beginning to rise. I'm in a different room than I was in before, and I immediately panic, wanting to know what happened to my Samantha. My screaming for a nurse and my constant ringing of the call button gets someone in my room fairly quickly.

The nurse who comes in asks me to calm down as she checks my IV and my vitals. All the while I keep asking about my baby. After she finishes making a few notes on my chart, she explains that Samantha wasn't tolerating the labor well and when she was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped fairly tightly around her neck, and that even though she is doing fine now, the doctors want to keep her in the NICU for a day or so for observation. I ask to see her, but the nurse tells me it's too early, and that the doctors wanted me resting in bed at least until the morning, so I will need to wait a few hours before they will let me see her.

The nurse leaves after this, and I'm unable to fall back asleep. Looking around my room, everything looks sterile and untouched. I can tell no one has come to visit yet, which brings on a new round of tears as I realize I'm still alone in all of this when in reality I need the support right now. I try to go back to sleep, but I can't, so I spend the next few hours watching the clock as I count down to when I can hold my child.

Finally nine a.m. comes and the nurse comes back to my room, offering to bring me to the NICU so that I can see Samantha. Getting out of my bed and into the wheelchair is painful as I feel the stiches in my lower abdomen stretch and pull. As I'm wheeled towards the NICU the nurse explains all the procedures I will have to go through before getting to hold Samantha. Once we get there, I scrub my hands and put on the required gown and head in so that I can meet my baby. As soon as I reach her, my heart stops. She's absolutely perfect and thankfully breathing on her own. The nurse helps get me situated into a rocking chair before handing Sam over to me. As soon as she's in my arms and I count her fingers and toes and see for myself that she is really okay, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

"Hi sweetheart," I coo at her. "I'm your momma, and I love you so very much."

I sit there, rocking and singing lullabies to her, just enjoying this time with her when I hear someone clear their throat. Looking up, I see Edward standing there, wearing a yellow gown of his own and looking like he hasn't slept in a week. His eyes have dark circles under them, his hair is a mess, he hasn't shaved, and from the looks of it, he's slept in his clothes.

I stop rocking the moment I see him, whispering out a faint "Edward…"

He rushes towards me, his own tears running down his cheeks as he wraps his arms around me and his daughter in a hug.

"I'm so sorry Isabella. I never wanted you to go through this alone. I got your message and got the first flight I could, but when I landed, I got a message from the hospital about delivery complications and the NICU. I've never been so scared Isabella. I've been such an ass this go around and I'm sorry. I don't know how I'm ever going to make it up to you."

Looking up at him, his gaze is focused on the baby. I know there's a lot that Edward and I will need to talk about, but now isn't the time.

Motioning for him to come closer I say to him "Edward, I'd like you to meet your daughter, Samantha Hope Cullen." He smiles at me as I hand him the baby, and looking at him and how he is looking at Samantha with nothing but love in his eyes, I can't help but hope that maybe there's still a chance for things to turn out alright.

A/N: So what are you all thinking? Is there still a chance for things to turn out alright? I'd love to hear your theories about Edward too.

Now, I know that having the flashbacks throughout the story can make it hard for you to figure out everyone's ages, so here's a little clarification: In the present time, Edward and Isabella are 36. Elliott is 12, Michael is 5, and Samantha is 3. Edward and Isabella started dating when they were 16, got engaged when they were 18 and got married when they were 21. Isabella was 23 when she had Elliott. When Isabella was 31 she had Michael. Elliott was 8 at the time. At 33, Isabella had Samantha. Elliot was 10 and Michael was 2. This means that Edward and Isabella have been married for 15 years, together as a couple for 20, and have known each other for 31 (they met in kindergarten).

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all next week!

-Stephanie