This chapter has been dedicated to Jacqueline Marolf (1991 - 2009). We still miss you, Jackie. RIP.

Disclaimer: Not SM & I don't own Twilight.

April 17th, 2009 - Week 24

The bathroom door was looking back at me ominously as I peered at it from inside the bathroom. I was already blushing, and I hadn't even put on the lingerie. I dumped the frilly white contents on the counter, and stood back to look at it. This was going to be embarrassing.

I pulled off my sweatpants and hoodie, leaving me in only my maternity tank top, bra, and boy shorts. I refused to look in the mirror because I was self-conscious without even seeing myself.

"Sam?" I called, my voice wavering. "Do I really have to?"

He answered right away, from the bed. "No."

I sighed. That didn't help me. He was just being nice. It was his birthday, and he got me Victoria's Secret lingerie as his present to himself. Now I was complaining about wearing it. I was making myself sick.

I yanked off the tank top and bent forward to unhook my bra. My chest had been slowly expanding, and releasing it from the contraption was a welcome relief. I had lines in my back from the band. I peeled off my underwear as well, and rubbed lotion into the jagged stretch marks on the underside of my stomach. Last time we talked, Sara had told me the stretch marks would be less noticeable if I moisturized every day, but so far, it hadn't helped.

I brushed through my hair while I was waiting for my skin to dry. I had borrowed Kim's deep conditioner and the dark tresses were unbelievably soft. I had forgone braids, so it hung straight down my back. I contemplated leaving my face without makeup and just accepting the purple of the scars, but it was Sam's night, and I wanted to look as beautiful as possible for him. So I spread cream foundation, concealer, and powder on my face, caking it on and making my skin look as flawless as possible.

Finally, resigning myself to this terrifying appearance, I stepped into the lace boy shorts and pulled the mesh-like babydoll top over my head. The ribbon tied in the front, right under my chest. I adjusted the bow, so that the ends hung equally, closed my eyes tight and turned to the mirror.

I had to look. I really had to look. But I was afraid that, if I did, I would never get the courage to go out there and face my perfect fiancé.

I opened my eyes.

I was huge, an elephant, a house.

I was the biggest, fattest, ugliest pregnant woman on the planet.

"Emily?" Sam called, no longer from the bed, but from right outside the door. "Em? Don't wear it. You don't have to. Just come out."

I cleared my throat, a thin cracking noise that wasn't supposed to sound as weak as it did. I was betrayed by my own vocal cords. "Um...one minute?"

"Sure."

"Just...uh...go wait on the bed again," I requested quietly.

I swept my hair back over my shoulder once more, dug around in my bag for a moment and applied a layer of lipgloss, and then spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. My hand was shaking as I reached for the doorknob.

"Sam?"

"Emily? Please come out! You can wear whatever the hell you like."

I bit my lip. "Are you on the bed?"

"Yes, I swear."

"Can you promise not to laugh?" I asked.

Sam was suddenly stern. "I will not laugh. Why would I laugh?"

I took a deep breath, opened the door, and made my way to our room. I had to cross the room before I got to the bed, and when I could see the end of the footboard, I stopped and closed my eyes.

"You promise?"

"Emily," he stressed, "I promise that I will not laugh at you."

I took the step that would put me in his line of vision with my eyes still closed. I was barely breathing.

I heard him inhale, and my knees locked. The floor shook underneath me as he leapt off the bed and bounded over to my side, where I felt his arms wrap around me.

"You look stunning." His warm breath tickled my ear. My eyes flickered open, and he continued murmuring in my ear, lips grazing my skin seductively. "But there's one thing that I would change."

I hung my head against his bare chest, despair and rejection flooding through me. Tears prickled in my eyes. "I know, I'm sorry, I can't help it." I willed the tears to stay in my eyes and not ruin my makeup, but they didn't listen. "I'm so fat. I look disgusting."

He picked my head up, and wiped away the tears with his fingers, probably smearing the foundation off the scars.

"No!"I cried, turning to the mirror as he dropped his hand, confused. Sure enough, a thumb-sized spot of the hideous purple underneath was uncovered. "Oh, shoot! Sam!"

"What? What did I do?" He questioned. "I'm sorry, what did I do?"

I went to rush back to the bathroom, but he caught my arm. "I have to go fix it, I'll be right back," I muttered, already turned away.

"Fix what?" he demanded. "You have to explain."

"You smeared my makeup. I covered up my scars for you, and you ruined it." I pulled on my wrist, but he didn't let go.

Sam's face was contorted with emotion. "You covered up the scars for me, Em?"

I nodded. "It was your night, and I wanted to look perfect."

"Goddammit, Emily, you look perfect without the makeup. I meant to wipe it off, you're not the same without your scars. It was the one thing I wanted change." He kissed my hand, but still had a faint hint of anger on his face. "And Em? You're not fat, you're pregnant with my twins." He sighed and his expression relaxed.

He took advantage of my stillness and pulled me towards him. "It's kind of sexy, actually."

I shoved him playfully. "Shut up."

"You think I'm kidding, don't you?" He bent down and kissed me, his tongue playing games with mine. I was breathless when he pulled away and licked the side of my ear. "I'm not."

"Sam..." I moaned, forgetting about my insecurities.

His burning hot hands made their way up under the teddy to touch my upper back. I arched against him, my stomach pressing between us. He pushed my shoulders and I fell back onto the bed. Sam followed and rolled us so that he was below me, his mouth melding with mine every step of the way.

His hands grasped my hips and touched my leg. I moved to straddle his hips, and I pressed my stomach against his chest to balance myself. "Emily," he groaned.

"Sam," I whispered back, wantonly. "Happy birthday."

He licked his way across my collarbone, kissing my skin with a hot, open mouth. "Oh, shit, Em."

We drowned in waves of pleasure and heat, languished in the slickness of our bodies and the sparks in our dark eyes.

&&&

Hannah dragged the bag with my wedding dress over one afternoon in late May. I saw her coming from the window and practically fell over my own feet trying to get to the door.

"Oh my God!" I screamed, throwing the offending piece of wood out of my way. "Is it done?"

Sam quietly snuck out and hid in the bedroom, still holding strong to his resolution not to see my dress.

Hannah grinned at my excitement. "Almost. I'm here for a fitting."

I pulled off my shoes and jacket. "I want to try it on! I want to see it!"

Hannah stepped into the hall, pulled the garment bag out of the shopping bag and unzipped it, letting me see a peek of white satin. She folded the material over her arms to pull it out. It looked soft, fluid, and utterly, completely perfect.

I inhaled. "Oh, Hannah!"

She held up the hanger. The straps looked so delicate, and the neckline was sublime. It scooped, so it was sexy, but the lace went high enough that it was still modest, to cover up my quickly enlarging chest. The crevices in the bodice were filled with glitter, adding dimensions that caught the light. A bow framed my chest, to draw attention away from the satin over my stomach. The front and the back were even, to give me a train in the back and a floor-length hem in the front.

I ripped off my tank top, trying not to grimace at my even bigger stretch marks. My sweatpants came off as well, and I was reaching for the dress.

Hannah laughed. "Eager, are we?" She moved into the living room, checking to see if Sam was nearby, and then piling the dress on a sofa arm while she helped me gather the clothes I was shedding. She took off her jacket and laid it on the chair.

"You have no idea." I was bouncing with excitement, the girls doing little flips and kicking happily in reaction.

"You should stand on something so I can pin." She pulled over a foot stool and helped me onto it. "Hands up."

I raised my arms, not caring that I hadn't shaved in a few days, and Hannah unzipped the bag of the dress and stood on a chair to help slide it over my head and arms. I pulled on the bodice, bending over to adjust myself, and twisted around until the fabric draped the right way. Hannah got right to work with pins, humming to herself through her closed lips. The bodice was a little big, so she pinned half of the excess fabric away. There was also too much space for my stomach, but the wedding was still three weeks away, so I would grow to fit. "How does it look?"

"It's marvelous. Sam is going to die."

His voice came from behind the bedroom door. "Will you hurry up, Mom? I'm tempted to steal a glance at my marvelous fiancée."

"Stay in there, Sam!" I yelled. "Be strong!"

Hannah was doubled over laughing behind me. "Three more weeks, son! Just hang in there!"

He let out an exaggerated groan while Hannah unzipped and got me out of the dress.

I hugged her once she had packed up the dress and I had slipped my clothes back on. "Thank you, thank you so much. It's everything I dreamed of."

&&&

Unfortunately, not everything could be as easy as the wedding. Sam held my hand as I gulped and tried to make eye contact with Dr. Echler.

"Sam and I," I began, keeping my voice surprisingly steady, "after a lot of research and conversation with each other and a midwife, have decided to try for a natural, home birth for our girls." I rushed the end of the sentence, wanting to escape the small, stuffy room, and get as far away as possible from the scornful look on Dr. Echler's face.

Her jaw was clenched, her eyes narrow. I fought back the butterflies in my stomach, and put my hand on my womb to feel the girls kicking. They were on my side, I knew. My own little cheering section.

"Emily," Dr. Echler's voice was steely, "please tell me that you are joking."

I pressed my eyes closed, taking the words like a slap in the face. Sam tightened his grip on my hand. Dr. Echler was the first person, outside of Sara and Sam, whom I had told about my decision, and she hoped I was kidding.

It was okay. I had known that some people would react this way - and honestly, I had suspected that Dr. Echler would be one of them. I had been holding out hope that she wouldn't - I needed an OB to help me with my pre-natal care plan - but obviously that was not the case. I took a deep breath, digging out my small store of confidence, and pulling my shoulders back slightly. I could do this without her approval; I was my own woman. I was proud.

When I opened my eyes again, a long few seconds later, I shook my head. "No, I am not joking. We are planning for a homebirth."

She made condescending clucking noises with her tongue. "I wouldn't recommend a vaginal birth in your case, let alone one without any medical aid. It could be extremely dangerous for you and your children."

I blanched, unable to believe that she would go so far as to insinuate that I would kill my children with my choice, but knowing that Dr. Echler was never one to mince her opinion. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, but in the end, this is my choice."

I didn't need her manipulating me; I didn't have to be afraid. Fear had no place in my childbirth, my pregnancy, or my home. The confidence grew. I was surer of myself than I had been in a long time.

"I would like to have a doctor here in the hospital to help during the pregnancy and on call during the delivery, in case something does go wrong and I need to come in. Is there someone you can refer me to who will be supportive of Sam and I?"

Dr. Echler seethed. "I don't know a single doctor who would encourage this carelessness, Emily."

Sam stood, yanking me to my feet along with him. "We'll be leaving now. You are being extremely rude, and we don't have to listen to you anymore." He flung open the door, motioning me in front of him, and once I had exited, he slammed the door closed again.

He stormed out to the car before he calmed enough to take me in his arms. "We'll find someone else, Em. Sara can give us some names, and they'll be more understanding."

I kept sucked in deep, ragged breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart.

"I'm proud of you, Em." He took my face in his hands and made me look at him.

I nodded, swallowing. "Thanks."

A part of me was disappointed that I hadn't been able to walk out on her all by myself. If Sam hadn't been there, I would have stayed and let her cut me down. I wasn't confident enough to assert myself just yet, though I was committed to improving; my girls deserved a strong role model, and I wanted it to be me.

After a short moment, I pulled away from Sam and opened the car door. "Let's go home, Sam."

I didn't feel like the appointment had been a success, but it hadn't been a failure either. I hadn't let her talk me out of this.

I believed that home birth was safe. If I didn't believe it with all my heart, I wouldn't risk it. And if - God forbid - something changed that made delivering at home unsafe, I would seek the needed medical attention in a heartbeat. However, for now, home birth was safe and healthy for my babies. For now, it was my choice.

"You okay, Em?"

I pulled my gaze away from the window to find Sam looking at me curiously from the driver's seat.

I considered, for a second, lying to him about my thoughts, but then reconsidered when I thought about how honest he had been recently concerning our relationship. "I'm okay, Sam. I was just wishing that I had possessed the courage to walk out of the office by myself."

Sam hummed, considering that. "I was happy to support you. You don't have to do everything by yourself."

"Not everything, no," I agreed. "But this was about our children, and I wish that I could have stood up for what's best for them. I am their...mother, after all." The word was hard to form, hard to wrap my mind around.

"You did stand up for them. You were brave in there."

I rolled my eyes, but kept silent.

Sam forced out breath between his teeth. "Emily," he growled. "You made a difficult decision, and you stuck with it. You were damn brave, and I'm proud of you."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. We sat in silence for awhile, Sam taking my compliance as an agreement. He turned down our street, and pulled into our driveway. I heaved myself out of the car, the edge of self-chastisement fading as I calmed. It hadn't been perfect, but I shouldn't complain. I was starting to see that I could be strong and confident.

Sam held open the door and I slowly made my way through the frame, kicking my shoes on the carpet next to the door. The answering machine was beeping - it was Sara, calling to ask about making me an appointment at the center in the next few weeks. Her timing was kind of perfect. As Sam settled into the couch with a bottle of pop, I sat at the table - munching on apple slices - and dialed her back.

"Good morning!" she answered on the second ring, her mellow voice tinkling over the phone.

I relaxed, just from hearing her voice. "Sara? It's Emily Young."

"Oh, darling, how are you?"

"I told Dr. Echler this morning, and she didn't take it very well," I admitted, propping my elbows on the table.

"Tell me everything."

I filled her on the happenings at the office, and Sam walking us out. I avoided the conversation from the car - that was just for Sam and me.

"You did very well. You should be proud of yourself," Sara concluded, coming eerily close to Sam's thoughts.

"Thanks, I guess." I was only moderately proud, but the feeling of inadequacy was there, hidden under my self-consciousness but pushing to break through. "I just wish that I could have been the one to walk out."

Sara chuckled warmly on the other end of the line. "Small steps, Emily. Next time, okay?"

She couldn't see, but I smiled on my end of the phone. "Yeah, next time."

"So you need a few names, don't you?"

With her breezy change of subject, I felt the tension in my chest dissipate. "That would be fantastic."

"I'll email them to you soon, okay? I know a few people in your area."

"I can't thank you enough, Sara, really," I asserted.

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to you in a few days."

"Talk to you then." We prepared to hang up. "Goodbye, Sara."

"Bye, Emily."

The phone clicked, but I held it up to me ear until the dial tone sounded. One of the girls kicked happily under my skin, and I found myself lifting my shirt to watch my skin stretch with her movements. They were there, growing and waiting to come out. I found myself impatient to see them, hold their tiny little feet in my hands, stroke their messy hair. It surprised me how eager I was to be a mother, but it was a good surprise.

When I dragged myself off the seat, I shuffled into the living room, where Sam was eating popcorn and lounging on the sofa. I settled in next to him, smiled up at his deep eyes, rested my head on his warm chest and closed my eyes. In minutes, I was fast asleep.