I hear an excited scream and the pounding of footsteps from upstairs. Peeta is playing with our daughter, Willow. "Peeta! My mom will be here any second!" I yell up the stairs. The noises of playing cease as he carries our daughter down.
After Willow was born, no matter how much I resented my mother for the way she treated me, I could not refuse her the chance to know and have a relationship with her granddaughter. So, we made a deal. Peeta and I would bring Willow to visit her in District 4, where she is still helping to establish hospitals, and she was allowed to visit every 3 months if she was able. She only needed give us two weeks' notice of her arrival.
Today is Willow's second birthday, and my mother has given us more than two weeks of notice that she would be here. I had tried to ward her off by telling her I was sick, which was slightly true. I have had a congested nose for almost 3 weeks now. But illness does not scare her in the slightest.
As Peeta puts her down, Willow scampers into my arms on her short legs still plump with baby fat, she's still breathing heavily from her romping around upstairs. I push a stray lock of dark hair from her rosy face. "Are you ready to see grandma?" I ask her but before she can respond there is a knock at the door.
"Grandma!" Willow screams. She squirms out of my arms and runs through the door Peeta has just opened straight into my mother's outstretched arms. My mother plants a kiss on her cheek and begins asking her questions about her birthday.
As we usher her inside my mother sits in the living room near the fireplace and presents Willow with her early birthday present. She unwraps her gift quickly and pull out of the small box, a small cloth doll. It has a blonde braid made of yarn running down her back and is wearing a small pink dress. Willow hugs it to her body and runs to me.
"Mommy! Baby!" She exclaims in her still broken form of communication. She puts the doll in my hands and a few tears jump into my eyes in recognition. This doll looks like Prim. I feel Peeta squeeze my shoulder. He must see it too.
"I love it baby." I tell her. She cradles it in her arms and clumsily runs down the hallway to play with her new treasure.
Peeta offers to take my mother's bags up to her room and she accepts, following him upstairs. I am left alone with my thoughts. Even now almost 18 years after the war has ended, my heart still breaks at the smallest thought of Primrose. Of how she was far too young to die. Of her gentle nature. Of how down to the last second of her life, she was taking care of others. A tear rolls down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away before I am found out.
My mother helps us prepare dinner and we all eat together. We present Willow with a cake made by Peeta. When we have finished and Peeta and is cleaning up the kitchen with the help of Mother, I lift Willow from her chair. Her eyes are heavy from her long, exciting day. "Time to get ready for bed little one." I tell her.
She is so tired, she doesn't even object. Peeta kisses her goodnight, and she blows a kiss to my mother. We ascend the stairs and I put her in the bath in my and Peeta's room. As I wash her, she recounts her day.
"Grandma come today." She tells me. I respond excitedly and ask her why. "My birthday!" She tells me. "I'm two!" She holds up her whole hand with all five fingers extended because she still doesn't have to coordination to hold down three fingers. I laugh and help her fold her hand so that she is only holding up two.
I dry her off and put her in pajamas. Then I carry her into her room, right next to mine and Peeta's so that we can always hear if she cries.
I sit down in the rocking chair by her crib, cradling her in my lap. Peeta pokes his head in the door. He squats down near her head and kisses her again. She pulls at my blouse indicating that she wants to nurse. When she is comfortably nursing, I sing to her. I sing her the song I used to sing to Prim. The song I sang to Rue. Another tear runs down my face. Peeta runs his fingers through her soft hair and her eyes flutter closed. She's asleep.
"I can't believe she's two," He whispers.
"I know."
"That doll," he says, "It looks like Prim."
I nod, unable to speak. He kisses me on the temple.
"Do you want me to stay, or do you want to be alone for a little while?"
I nod again and he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. I sit in the quiet, rocking my daughter. I don't know why I'm crying so much, but I guess it makes sense. Willow's birthday, thinking of Prim and Rue. When I have collected myself, I place her gently in the crib and shut the door.
Walking back downstairs, I prepare myself for the oncoming conversation I have with my mother every time she visits. The conversation about how Willow is too old to be nursed and how I should let her go to sleep without rocking her. I always answer the same way. I tell her that I don't know why it's so important for me to stop nursing Willow, she finds it comforting and it's not doing any harm. I also usually add that it's no business of hers how I put my child to sleep and that I will rock her until she doesn't want to be rocked.
Thankfully, when I make it downstairs and sit down next to Peeta on the couch, they are discussing the hospitals that she has been working with in District 4. Peeta puts his arm around my shoulder.
"You two should come and check out the newest one when you come and visit next time. They have a really great mother and baby facility for when the baby is born." She says eyeing me.
I am taken slightly aback and Peeta responds. "We actually don't know if we want to have another baby yet."
Now it's my mother's turn to act confused. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you talking about?" I ask
She looks between me and Peeta suspiciously. "Katniss is pregnant." She says as if it's a fact the whole world should already know.
"Katniss is not pregnant," I say. I see Peeta looks at me in confusion, but I shake my head indicating that what I'm saying is true.
"Come on," She says as if she thinks we are trying to fool her, "I know the signs."
"Mother, I'm serious." I tell her in a harsh tone. "And what signs are you seeing?"
Her look indicates that she now understands that we really have no idea what she's talking about. "Well, you said you'd been congested for quite some time, you seemed kind of weepy this afternoon, your fingers look like they are swelling, and your hair and nails look more healthy than normal."
My mother's analysis of myself has me speechless. All I can do is stare at her in complete astonishment. Peeta is looking suspiciously between me and my mother, I can tell he's trying to decide what to do.
"When was your last period?" She asks me.
"That's none of your business!" I say.
"Come on, Katniss, do the math." She says but I'm already doing it in my head. 5 weeks ago.
"No." I respond instead. I stand up from the couch and begin walking out of the room. "I'm not doing this with you."
Peeta follows me upstairs and sits down next to me on the bed. I couldn't stop the tears if I wanted to. He wraps me in his arms and lets me cry for a while before he asks, "Katniss, what's going on?"
I am quiet for a few more minutes as I steady my breathing and calm myself down. "I think she's right. It's been five weeks."
"You are pregnant?" he asks.
"Yeah, I think so," I feel like I'm in shock. "Peeta, I didn't know."
I look up at his face and how he as tears rolling down his cheeks. He's happy. And when I think about it, although my finding out was not ideal, I am too. I guess we're having another baby.