A/N: Can you believe the movie comes out THIS week? I can't even begin to emotionally process that fact...I'm so excited to see Katniss&Peeta on the big screen ahhhhh! Anyways, thought I'd post this in celebration. This is more than likely the last post for THIS story. If/when further inspiration hits I'll write some more (most likely random one shots) and post a new story so add me to your author alerts :) Don't forget to review and enjoy!
It's funny how day by day nothing really changes, but one day you can just wake up and everything is completely different. Somehow 15 years have gone by since the end of the war and Peeta and I are definitely no longer kids. It surprises and scares me that so much time has passed. We've been married now for 12 years and I still feel as in love and connected to him as the day of our toasting. It hasn't always been perfect or even easy, but there is never a day that goes by where I don't think how lucky I am to have him as my husband.
We have led a quiet life, settled into our home and routines in District 12. The familiarity and, for the most part, the uneventfulness, has been something that has not gone unappreciated after the tragedy and trauma of our youth. I savor the comfort of knowing what each day will bring.
Peeta still bakes, but it is not his main focus anymore. A few years ago he added a top floor to the bakery as somewhere he could devote strictly to his painting, to serve as his art gallery, and to hold free drawing lessons for the people in town on the weekends. The bakery keeps him focused and his art room keeps him happy.
I lead more of a disorganized life. Some days I'll hunt and some days I'll sit at home all day and just write every thought that runs through my head. On rare days, when I'm feeling up for it and have been talked into it, I'll speak to the older kids at school about the war and the games or if I'm feeling really nice, a rare interview for the government to use for public relations.
In recent weeks however, I can feel something different in the air, like how you can feel when summer is around the corner. It's hard to explain other than the feeling is one I just can't shake. It is the elephant in the room whose presence is hard to ignore. It's just been little things here and there. A comment overheard, something someone does, or a daydream that keeps bringing me back to the same thing over and over again.
A baby.
The most curious part about it though is that none of this has come from Peeta. It's strange because over 12 years of marriage Peeta has never been shy over bringing up the topic of kids and making it clear just how much he wants them.
We've fought a number of times, with loud dramatics that included screaming and crying, that either drove us further apart or closer together on the subject when we finally made up. We've also had long, intense conversations about it that left each of us emotionally drained and with the realization it was simply an issue we'll always struggle with. And throughout the course of our marriage, Peeta making some innocent reference or subtle hint about children has been about as common as sharing a kiss for us.
But as of late he hasn't said a word. It's almost as if he knows I always had to approach this subject on my own, with no pressure or expectations weighing me down.
Bizarrely I think of my mother and how she would probably tell me that with me being 32 now this is just my maternal instincts coming into play. My body's biological clock is more ready than ever to carry a child.
I think that's part of it, but not all of it.
It's been other things too, like seeing how good Peeta is with the children who visit the bakery or his eagerness to always babysit Delly's boys. More than anything it is knowing how much Peeta wants children, how much he deserves them, and what it would mean to me to be able to give them to him, that has me really contemplating the idea of having children.
Even after so much time has passed the idea still terrifies me, and I don't quite know how I would actually be able to handle it, but it does not seem as unfathomable as it once did. All my life the idea of me having children just seemed so far-fetched and unimaginable. Lately however, looking into Peeta's eyes and knowing what an amazing father he would be makes the idea more conceivable.
After a few weeks of this silent debate raging in my head I finally decided to do something about it. Even though I still wasn't a hundred percent sure, even though I still had my doubts and insecurities, I knew if I didn't just bite my tongue and go for it I might always think of an excuse not to. Last week I saw the District's female doctor who deals specifically with these kind of issues. She told me how to end the birth control treatment I was on for good, gave me a pill to help with chances of conception, and told me based on my last cycle what days would be the best to try.
Today is one of those best days to try and get pregnant.
I glance over at a sleeping Peeta by my side in bed. He looks older than that teenage boy I first fell in love with. His shoulders are broader, his jaw stronger, and there is just the hint of creases and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from the years that have gone by.
He looks so peacefully asleep I don't want to wake him and after a few moments of lying quietly by his side my eyes start to grow heavy and I doze off next to him. When I wake what feels like moments later I find the space beside me empty and the shower running in the bathroom.
I take a deep breath and debate if I'm really ready for this.
In an instant I throw off the covers and head for the bathroom. I may not ever really be ready for this, but I feel confident enough in the moment just to go for it. And besides, I remind myself, Peeta doesn't know I've stopped the birth control, I only want him to know when there is the good news he's been waiting for, and to him this will just be our occasional session of morning sex.
I tip toe into the bathroom as silently as possible and strip my nightgown off. I can see the outline of Peeta's naked body through the shower door and the steam from the hot water is filling up the whole room. I open the door to the shower and slide in behind Peeta, wrapping my arms around his waist, before he can turn around.
"Good morning," I say pressing my naked body to his and planting kisses along his shoulders and back.
"Well, good morning," Peeta returns, turning around in my arms and switching our positions so the water is pouring down over my entire body.
We kiss deeply for several long, lazy moments, clinging to each other's naked bodies as the hot water flows down over us.
"Can you be a little late for work today?" I ask him when we pull apart, moving my lips to his neck as my hands find his hardness pressed between us.
"I think I can make an exception today," he mumbles out and his breath hitches as I increase the pace of my hands, feeling him grow longer and harder.
When I've finally worked and teased him to the point his hips jerk forward instinctually, he groans and pushes me against the side of the shower wall. "This is my favorite kind of wake up call," he smiles and kisses me, slipping one hand down to my center.
After a few moments I'm clinging to his shoulders, unable to take much more.
"Peeta...now," I murmur and he surprises me, lifting me by my hips up against the wall. He pushes into me and is holding me by thighs as he thrusts into me. Through the ecstasy, in the back of my mind I'm impressed Peeta has the strength to hold me like this with his bad leg.
When we finish I sink back down to the floor as Peeta slumps against me. We're both breathing hard and trying to recover as the water starts to grow cold. He finally has the strength and sense to turn it off as we each step out of the shower and towel off.
With wet hair, and no energy to do anything else, we crawl back in bed together. Facing each other, our feet entangled, he strokes the side of my face.
"I love you," he whispers and my heart responds with a pang. After 12 years of marriage Peeta still treats me like the girl he once pined over from afar, never failing to make me feel special or to let me know how much he cares. I know how lucky I am and it's in this instant, it is these words, that quiets all the little voices of doubt and worry that were starting to creep up. I know there is no going back on this baby idea now. We've made love without my birth control. We could have just made a baby in the shower.
"I love you too," I whisper, burying my head into his shoulder, hoping to hide the turmoil of emotions I'm feeling from him.
He just holds me tighter against him and I feel the determination and stubbornness I've always had plenty of flare to the surface. Part of me is still terrified, but I've committed to something and I'm not one to go back on a decision once I've made it. I love Peeta and I want to carry his baby.
And I'm going to do everything possible to make that a reality.
After those few days that followed that morning in the shower I was so sore I could barely walk. I actually lost count of how many times Peeta and I made love during that time. It might have seemed a tad excessive, but I just wanted to give us the best possible chances of conceiving.
The terror and fear of actually carrying a child was pushed to the back of my mind and all I could focus on was being able to give Peeta the news I know he so desperately wants. I kept imagining how it will feel to tell him he's going to be a father and I wanted it so badly it hurt.
I can't deny, other than the sore muscles, those few days were quite enjoyable. I always thought Peeta and I had an above average sex life, but apparently there was still room for improvement.
And luckily Peeta was more than a capable and willing participant to all the extra love making.
He didn't even seem to think anything was that out of the ordinary. Other than a cheeky comment that he was just waiting for Haymitch to come by and tell us to keep it down with all the extra activity as of late, he was more than happy to, unknowingly, go along with my plan.
It has been a little over a month since we first started trying, since we began making love without me on my birth control, and today I have an appointment with the doctor to find out if I'm pregnant. I have spent all morning pacing around the house, an anxious mess, counting down until I would learn my fate. The idea of knowing for sure, of having everything in my life change, and of not being able to avoid the reality of my situation anymore with thoughts of Peeta's joy, is making me so nervous I can barely stand it.
I keep telling myself to just take one thing at a time and not get too ahead of myself. Before I start some grand level freakout I need to leave for my appointment and have the doctor tell me for sure, so there is no doubts, so I can know whether this is definitely happening or not.
And when she says the words out loud it's like I'm in some daze, not able to accept that this is for real.
She smiles and offers me a glass of water.
"Congratulations! You two were made for each other to get pregnant so quickly after ending the birth control."
I can't help but chuckle. Of course I would get pregnant immediately, there would be no chances for doubts or second thoughts.
"Thanks," I reply, trying to come back down to earth. "It's funny, in a way I think I've already known for a little while. I just felt different."
"Doesn't surprise me," the doctor says, writing on her clipboard. "A mother's intuition is a powerful thing."
A mother.
It's those words that echo in my mind as I leave the clinic. I'm going to be someone's mother. The thought is almost enough to make me breakdown. My mind wanders to my own mother, how most of my memories of her are sitting by and doing nothing while Prim and I almost starved to death. All I can think about is every reason why I didn't want to do this for so many years and I want to runaway and hide.
I can't be someone's mother.
The small, rational part of me that is still left is telling me to calm down, to breathe deeply, and to remember why I made this decision in the first place.
Peeta.
I make my way to the bakery and convince myself once I see his face, once I tell him the news he has wanted for so long, I'll be okay. Well, I might not be okay, but I might at least be able to handle this better.
I come around the corner to the back entrance of the bakery and make my way inside, weaving through the supply room and then through his office. I peek around the door that separates the kitchen and the back room and I hesitate when I see Peeta with a customer.
"Hey buddy," Peeta is bent down, talking to a small child on the other side of the counter. "I made these cookies today especially for you. I need someone to test them out and tell me if they're good enough."
Peeta laughs as the little boy, no more than 5 years old, shoves the whole cookie into his mouth and mumbles something in reply. He stands back up and faces the boy's mother, a pretty, blonde woman who laughs and shoots Peeta an appreciative smile.
The woman is familiar. It registers she is the one I always tease Peeta about because I'm so convinced she has a thing for him. She visits the bakery at least once a week and brings in her son all the time because she knows Peeta loves children.
"Thank you so much," the blond woman says, reaching out and touching Peeta's arm.
I have to bite my tongue, anger and jealousy flaring up inside me. I don't want to move or speak up though and betray the fact I've been spying on this little scene.
"It's nothing," Peeta shrugs it off as the little boy takes another cookie.
"You're just so good with children," the woman says tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "It's such a shame you don't have any."
I'm ready to tear the woman's head off before Peeta's reply makes me smile.
"Yeah, but not having kids can definitely have it's perks though." He moves back around the other side of the counter as the woman continues to press the point.
"Do you think it'll ever be a possibility one day?" She asks, leaning forward, and I roll my eyes. Peeta has to be blind to not see she wants to get in his pants.
I can sense his hesitation, choosing his words carefully before he answers. "I'm not really sure. My wife has always said no and I've learned to respect that. I guess as long as I have her I'm okay."
I turn and make my way towards the back entrance, not wanting to eavesdrop any longer. I barely make it home before I dissolve into a mess on the couch. I'm not sure if this is just the pregnancy hormones, but I can't stop the wall of emotions hitting me after the day's events.
It's finally hitting me what this pregnancy means. Besides the fear and anxieties I'm going to have to face carrying a child and becoming a mother, I for the first time, truly understand what this means to Peeta. He really meant it when he once said that the thing he cared about most was having me as his wife. It didn't take away from how much he wanted kids some day, it just meant that if he had to choose, he'd choose me.
I understand the precious gift I'm giving him now. I never had to do this to make him love me any more. I could have kept my stance on children our whole lives and Peeta would never have held a grudge or been bitter about it. Knowing this, that Peeta so selflessly accepted my position on children all these years, calms me enough to realize, other than marrying him, this is the best decision I've ever made.
I've finally settled down enough when Peeta comes home from work later that day and finds me curled up on the couch. He comes to sit by my side and pulls me into his arms.
"Hey, how was your day? Are you okay?" He asks when he can tell that something is off with me.
I take a deep shuddering breath and reply, "Yeah, I'm fine."
He looks deep into my eyes, considering for a moment whether he wants to press the point.
"I'm okay," I assure him, kissing him softly and taking his hands in mine. "There's something I have to tell you though."
His brows furrow together and I can sense his sudden concern. "Yeah, what's that?"
The words start leaving my mouth before I can stop them and in the back of my mind it occurs to me I would have liked to plan this out a little better. I would have liked to make the moment Peeta learns he is going to be a father a bit more special.
"Am I the most important person in the world to you?"
He doesn't even hesitate when he responds, "Of course."
"Do you love me more than anyone else?"
"Yes," he replies resolutely and I can't help a small grin, knowing how lucky I am, knowing that this child already has an amazing father.
I grab his right hand and bring it to my stomach, pressing it flat against the still-firm skin. I look deep into his eyes, trying to make sure he understands.
"Well, that's going to change."
His eyes widen, his mouth goes a little slack in shock, and he is incapable of speech for a long moment. Finally, he manages to stutter out a few words. "Are you...? How?"
"I'm pregnant, Peeta."
The look of shock on his face before is nothing compared to the dumbstruck expression he has now after actually hearing the words out loud. When he finally recovers the ability of speech he pulls me into a hug. "Oh my god, Katniss. Oh my god." He pulls back and kisses me chastely before pulling away, "I can't believe this. How...why...oh my god."
I laugh, tickled to see Peeta struggling over words when he is usually such a smooth talker. "I made a decision a little over a month ago. I stopped taking the birth control and well,...we certainly have been giving ourselves plenty of opportunities to make a baby."
Peeta laughs, still in that state shock and disbelief. The look of joy on his face is surely reflecting on my own. I try and commit this moment to memory, Peeta's unbridled happiness, to hold onto for the next 9 months when I'm sure there will be times I need to remind myself why I'm doing this.
"But I don't understand. How? I mean, why? What changed your mind?"
"A lot of things," I reply, lacing his fingers through mine. "I kept thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I guess it just suddenly didn't seem like the worst thing in the world anymore." I stare into his eyes, seeing how he is hanging on my every word. "But most of all it was you. I knew how bad you wanted children, and I just...thought that you deserved them."
He pulls me into his arms, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. When he pulls back he whispers, "Thank you," and then lays me onto the couch so I'm on my back and he's on his side hovering over me.
He cups my face in his hand, staring at me like I created the moon and the stars. His hands drift down to my waist and he pushes the shirt I'm wearing up, revealing my bare stomach. He presses his palm right over my belly button and instantly smiles. He rubs the area softly with a kind of awe and wonderment. "I love you," he says and looks back up at me. "And this is the best gift anyone has ever given me."
He leans down and presses a kiss to my stomach. "I can't wait," he laughs returning his face to mine and planting kisses along my cheek and down my neck. "I can't wait till you start showing. I can't wait till she gets here."
"She?" I pull away and look at him in surprise. "So you've already decided it's going to be a girl?"
He just laughs and shrugs, returning to planting kisses on my face and neck. I run my hand through his hair and take a deep breath, relishing the feel of his kisses and his warm body pressed into mine.
"You're going to have to help me," I whisper quietly after a while, finally allowing the small voices of worry and fear have their say. He pulls back and looks at me questioningly. "I'm so scared Peeta," I admit diverting my gaze from him, "I've never been this terrified of anything in my life."
"Hey," he says gently, bring me back to look at him, "it's okay. We're going to do this together. I'm going to be by your side every step of the way."
I give him a small smile forcing myself to relax just a little. I know I'm going to have to work to remind myself that things aren't as bad as they seem, that everything will be okay, that Peeta is going to support me through all of this.
Still, I don't think that can fully stop the fear and anxiety being pregnant is going to cause me.
It's early June and the stifling heat is making being 7 months pregnant even more uncomfortable than usual.
I shift around on the couch, attempting to get comfortable, but it seems like an impossible task to even just lift my own body weight these days. My thighs are rubbing against each other, my hair is dripping with sweat and my breasts are so sensitive, even the light tank top I have on is agitating.
The past 7 months have been a struggle to say the least. I am not one of those woman who was cut out for this type of thing. I can barely remember the vitamins and pills I'm suppose to take every day or the lotion to use to prevent stretch marks, Peeta constantly having to remind me. I feel guilty over how much I whine and complain about my level of discomfort, knowing that a good mother would embrace it. It's not that I don't feel connected to my child, I just can't get over how it feels like my body has been taken over, how it doesn't feel like my own anymore.
I work to control or at least keep at bay the terror that consumes me most of the time at the idea that this is really happening, that I'm carrying our child, that I am a mother now. It is already glaringly apparent how much better of a parent Peeta already is than me. Even worse, it feels like he is constantly having to soothe my nerves or calm my fears and I feel guilty for the way he has been at my beck and call these past months, wishing I could be less needy.
In addition, my hormones have left my moods and emotions so unstable and volatile, I don't know how anyone stands being around me. And to make matters worse the doctor has just recently told me I need to stop hunting and 'start taking it easy' if I don't want her to put me on bed rest for the last 2 months. The idea is so daunting I cringe at even the possibility and begrudgingly obey, feeling like a little kid in time out.
My temper and annoyance is at an all time high at the moment, between the heat making me uncomfortable and being forced to relax, I'm just ready to snap. I am trying to keep my emotions in check while fanning myself to keep cool when Peeta comes into the room from the kitchen, carrying a tray of freshly baked cheese buns.
"Hi gorgeous," he says, sitting down next to me on the couch, pressing a kiss to my cheek and rubbing a hand over my huge stomach like he always does anytime he is close enough.
I feel an odd combination of annoyance and love; the still rational side of me grateful to have such a loving, sweet husband and the hormonal, crazy part of me convinced he is being sarcastic by calling me gorgeous when I look like hell.
"It is so hot," I complain, shifting on the couch again and mentally hating myself for being such a whiny brat.
"I know, I'm sorry," Peeta sympathizes and he genuinely looks like he hates seeing me in this state.
"I made you some cheese buns though!" Peeta exclaims, offering me the tray, "I thought you deserved a little treat today."
"Sure, I already look like a whale, why not?" I retort before I can stop myself, stuffing a bun into my mouth before I can say anything else. I know I'm being irrational and grumpy, but the normal, logical part of my brain has no say and Peeta is right here to take out all my emotions on.
"I didn't mean it like that," Peeta tries to clarify, putting his hand on my knee. "I just wanted to do something nice and usually whenever I make these you finish them all before I can even get one."
I know he doesn't mean anything by it, I know he is just teasing me about my love for his baking, but for some reason this comment strikes a nerve.
"Thanks. I really needed a reminder of what a pig I am." I cross my arms in front of my chest and look away from him, so angry and frustrated and embarrassed I can't think straight.
"Katniss, what are you talking about? You're pregnant, you're suppose to be gaining weight." Peeta says trying to get me to look at him. "You look absolutely beautiful to me. You have never not looked beautiful to me."
"Then why aren't we having sex?" I burst out before I can stop myself. I'm just as surprised at my little outburst as Peeta is and I realize this has been something in the back of my mind for a while. I wouldn't let myself acknowledge it, not wanting to deal with the doubts and insecurities that the issue raised. I didn't want to even entertain the idea that Peeta just simply wasn't attracted to me anymore with all the extra weight I have put on.
"Is that what this is about?" Peeta asks after a while when he finally gets me to look at him.
I shrug, feeling mortified and embarrassed for admitting this. "We haven't had sex in months and that's not normal for us. I assumed it was because you just aren't attracted to me anymore."
A chuckle of laughter escapes his mouth before he can stop it and when I shoot him a glare of rage he quickly recovers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says taking my hands in his, "it's just the idea that I could ever not be attracted to you is...well, laughable."
I survey him closely, seeing that he at least seems to be genuine, that he isn't just saying this out of pity.
"I'm sorry if it came across that way, but I promise you that is not the reason we haven't been having sex." He pulls my body into his and drops a hand to my belly, caressing the huge bump. "I guess I kind of just assumed I would have been an ass to try and hit on you when you're going through all of this. Between your back hurting, your feet swelling, and all the emotions you've been facing with this whole pregnancy I just assumed sex would be the last thing on your mind."
I let these words sink in, allowing the calm, rational part of me that has returned to the surface to really process them. It makes sense. Peeta would only be thinking about my needs and what I want through this whole thing.
"Well...it has been on my mind," I whisper after a while, letting my hand drop to his thigh where I inch it dangerously high up his leg. The little jerk of his hips shows me it has definitely been on his mind all this time too.
"Well, let me see if I can help you out with that," Peeta whispers, pulling me into a kiss before leaning me back against the couch. His lips find mine over and over again and then he scoots down my body, pulling off my shorts and underwear.
A strangled whimper escapes my lips the moment his hands find my center and it is at once glaringly apparent how much I've missed his touch. I cling to his shoulders as his fingers build on the tension that I've been holding in for the past few months. He is hitting that nub of nerves with just the right pressure and slipping a few fingers inside me until I reach that point where my body goes rigid, I cry out and then go limp in his arms.
He brushes away the sweat dampened hair from my face and plants kisses down my neck until I've recovered enough to function.
"That's not fair," I mumble, running my hands up and down his back, "what about you?"
He pulls back with a little smirk and then goes to remove his pants.
I see how hard he already is and smile. "I knew I wasn't the only one who missed this."
"Oh, I've missed it," Peeta assures me as he sits back on his good knee and grabs me by my hips. He pushes in slowly to see if I'm ready and then gradually starts to quicken his pace. After months without this it feels impossibly good to have him inside me and when his thrusts get harder I throw my head back in euphoria, wondering how on earth I went so long without this.
Finally, after he has me yelling out in ecstasy and gripping the sides of the couch to hold on, we finish, collapsing into a mess of sweaty limbs on the couch. He holds me against him, my back pressed into his chest and his hands over mine, cupping the bump of my stomach.
"That was amazing," I sigh, feeling like a new person. My head feels clearer, the heat is suddenly bearable, and I feel much more at peace then before.
Peeta just laughs and presses a kiss to my shoulder.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," I admit after a long time of silence between us.
"For the baby?" Peeta questions.
"To be a mother," I explain, letting my fears and insecurities rise to the surface. When I feel particularly close with Peeta, when I'm not being emotionally guarded and I can really feel the intimacy between us, I allow myself to open up to him, to share my deepest concerns.
"I think you're more ready than you think," Peeta says rubbing slow, smooth circles on my stomach.
"You always give me too much credit," I sigh, turning my head back to look at him.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," he shoots back adamantly. "I'm not sure what you're afraid of Katniss. That you won't love her enough? That you won't give her everything she needs? You're going to be amazing at those things. I know you are. I know because I've already seen you do that for the people you care about."
I can't help a small smile when Peeta refers to the baby as a girl. We still don't know for sure, but he has made it known more than once he just has a feeling about it. As I process his words my mind immediately goes back to my sister and then Rue. I may not have been able to protect them entirely, but I did do as much as I possibly could. I loved them with everything I had.
I allow him to win this one for now and concede he might have a point. I feel so content and happy in his arms after our love making I let myself see the truth in his words and let them to console me for the moment.
I don't say anything for a while and then finally grab his hand and bring it to my lips. I press a kiss to his palm and tell him I love him before I feel too drowsy to stay awake any longer and I drift off to sleep in his arms.
The second labor is over I can barely remember any of it, not the screaming or crying or unbelievable pain. It all becomes a blur the moment I hear those wails of my newborn baby. I collapse back into bed in relief and Peeta is instantly by my side, crying, cupping my head in his hands, whispering that we have a daughter now.
I only have the energy to smile and grab onto one of his hands with as much strength as I can muster, hoping he understands I don't want him leaving my side. After cleaning her off and wrapping her in blankets the nurse hands me our daughter. The moment she is in my arms I start crying, looking down into her blue eyes, so much like her father's.
The joy of holding her, something Peeta and I created, is overwhelming. I am so deliriously happy it seems bizarre to me that I was ever afraid, that I once didn't want this. She is absolutely perfect and it hits me with my usual sense of stubbornness and determination that I will always do everything I can to protect her, to care for her, and to make sure she knows how loved she is.
"She's perfect," Peeta whispers as she reaches out and makes a fist around his index finger.
"You want to hold her, daddy?" I ask and when he takes her in his arms I see how she gazes up at him in wonder.
I know the feeling.
I start to feel my eyes drifting shut and as much as I want to stay in this moment forever my body is demanding a rest after all the work it has just done. I'm fast asleep moments later.
When I wake up later I hear the sound of two voices attempting to speak quietly and I'm not sure how much time has passed. I barely open my eyes and peek around the room where I see Haymitch and Peeta in the corner. Haymitch is seated in a chair, leaning forward and mumbling nonsense to our daughter in his arms.
I take a second to regain my bearings and remember that I'm already at home. WIth all the spare bedrooms we have Peeta decided to bring the doctor to us when the time came for me to give birth. He set up a room with all the necessary equipment and had the doctor and nurses on call, determined to make it as easy and stress-free on me as possible.
"She's absolutely perfect," I hear Haymitch whisper, still entranced by our daughter. "She's got your eyes, you know," he says to Peeta.
Peeta just smiles as Haymitch stands up and transfers her back into his arms.
"Well, anytime you two need a babysitter I'm up for the job. Just give me enough notice to sober up," he cracks, patting Peeta on the shoulder.
"Thanks," Peeta laughs, unable or unwilling to look away from our little girl.
"I'll give you guys your privacy," Haymitch announces, slipping out the door in an instant.
Peeta barely notices his absence and continues looking down at our daughter in awe.
"She loves being in your arms," I speak up, my throat dry and scratchy. "I can already tell. She just goes completely still when you hold her."
Peeta grins, coming over to sit by my side on the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asks reaching out with one hand to grab mine. "You were amazing."
"I'm fine," I shrug, not feeling particularly amazing. Just feeling like I did what I had to do. "I'm just glad she's here."
"Me too," Peeta smiles, glancing back down at her. "We need a name for this little beauty."
I look down at her little face, the only part of her body not covered by blankets or a knit hat. It's the strangest feeling to look into her eyes and see Peeta. She is the perfect combination of the both of us.
She yawns and lets her eyes drift shut.
"Let's get to know her first," I say and Peeta nods silently in agreement.
After a moment, when it becomes clear she is fast asleep in his arms, Peeta looks up at me. "You think you have the strength to come with me? I want to show you something."
"Yeah, I can try," I say, pulling off the covers and slowly lifting myself out of bed. I go extremely slow at first, my body still sore and worn down from labor, but I'm able to function enough to walk after a moment.
I follow Peeta out of the room and down the hallway. He walks past our bedroom door to the room next to it, the one he has been working on turning into a nursery for the past 9 months. He stops at the door and waits for me, smiling before slowly pushing it open and allowing me to go inside first.
I'm immediately blown away because the dark, barren room I was so accustomed to has been transformed. I wasn't sure what to expect, but in being so insistent that I never lifted a finger while pregnant, Peeta has managed to turn this room into a beautiful nursery all on his own. The crib, the rocking chair, the changing station, everything is perfect. But the part that really blows me away, the part that almost brings me to tears is the artwork he has created on the walls.
The walls are a soft beige color that Peeta has used as the base for his masterpieces. On one side there is a beautiful sunset peeking through the mountains and forest, glowing in shades of orange and red and pink. On the wall next to the crib there is a meadow, not just any meadow, but the one out by the woods, alive with birds and flowers. Above it he has written the words above it that have never meant as much to me as they do now as a mother.
Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daises guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.
"It's so perfect," I tell him, going into his arms after he puts the baby in her crib. "I love it."
He doesn't say anything at first, just pulls me closer against him. I run my hand through his hair, relishing the ability to be more intimately pressed up against him than I have been in months. I'm pressing kisses along his shoulder and neck when he pulls away.
"Thank you," he says cupping my face in both of his hands. "Thank you for going through labor, thank you for enduring the last 9 months, thank you for changing your mind."
"I should be thanking you," I tell him, not feeling like I deserve this kind of praise. "I never would have changed my mind if it wasn't for you. I never would have had a reason to want this if you didn't want it so badly." I take a moment and try and control my emotions. I may not be pregnant anymore, but I still feel as emotionally unstable.
I take the chance to glance down at our sleeping daughter in her crib. A kind of sick shame hits me in the gut when I think about how I acted before. I think about how I was so selfish, how I was so scared of this day, how I actually did not want this for the longest time. "If it wasn't for you," I tell Peeta, feeling the tears ready to fall, "if it wasn't for you she wouldn't be here."
I break down into a mess in his arms and he just holds me against him, understanding everything without me having to say a single word.. He rubs my back until I've calmed down enough and then whispers into my ear, "She's here now, that's all that matters."
I smile and kiss his cheek, turning around in his arms as he holds me from behind so we can both look down at our sleeping daughter. After a while my body starts to protest from being on my feet too long and Peeta leads me back into our own bedroom. I crawl into bed, instantly feeling better at the chance to rest.
"You were amazing today," Peeta mumbles into my shoulder as we lie facing one another in bed. "I knew labor wasn't easy, but you were so strong..."
"I don't really remember any of it," I admit, feeling my body prepare for sleep, "I mean, I knew it hurt a lot, but my first clear memory is hearing her cry for the first time."
"Kind of the same for me," Peeta agrees, "I hated seeing you in pain, but I guess it was worth it at the end of the day. She was worth it..."
"I'm glad I've been through it now though," I yawn, unable to keep my eyes open much longer. And then I say something that I know catches Peeta off guard, but in a good way that makes him cling to me a little tighter and press a kiss to my shoulder. I can't help it though and seeing how it just slipped out, there is obviously some real truth behind the words.
"It will make the next time a little easier."