It Started With a Cake

Ch26. Real

My hands come to rest against my aching belly, more than natural to me at this point.

I clutch onto it breathing through gritted teeth as a wave of pain comes over me once again.

I'm a couple of days passed my due date now, and though I know I could still have a couple weeks of pregnancy I'm hoping that labour comes soon, if not today than in the next couple of days, I want this over soon.

Sighing I push the thought aside as I pull on my outfit for the day, one of my usual pregnancy classics of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt that originally belonged to Peeta.

Just as I'm finished pulling on the shirt I feel another wave of pain course through my abdomen, not as bad as the last one but enough to cause me to heave over. Peeta is with me in an instant, noticing my pain as he exits the ensuite bathroom ready for the day also, even more so, looking freshly showered.

He guides me over to the bed rubbing my back as he breathes me through it, just as Lucy had taught us. Then once the pain subsides we sit silently, his hand still rubbing across my lower back.

That is until I feel it glide up my back coming to sweep the bits of hair that have fallen across my face. I smile as I feel his hands play with my hair, probably detangling a few of the knots from sleep in the process.

But then I feel a pattern to it, a recognisable one from years of my mother doing my hair to then doing my own hair over the years.

"When did you learn to braid?" I murmur once I'm sure that's what he's doing.

I feel him shrug behind me, "I don't know, recently"

"Why?" I laugh though I do have to admit whatever the reason I like him doing my hair for me.

I can hear the smile in his voice as he responds, "well if it's a girl I'm going to have to do her hair at some point"

Before I can think about what I'm doing I launch myself into his arms causing him to lose the progress he'd made so far.

"Sorry" I apologise into his chest, though he doesn't seem to mind as he holds my close, adding a slight rock to our hugging.

I pull back to look at him, tears in my eyes. He gives me a concerned look but I just smile, "you're so sweet" with that I collapse back into his arms wanting to be in contact with his body for a little bit longer.

Once I'm finally ready to pull back I give Peeta another small smile before transitioning back into our earlier position, "until then you can practice on me" I tell him cheekily.

He smiles, "I think you just like me playing with your hair but sure, I want her to have the best hairstyles I can give her"

His words don't hit me straight away but when they do I smile, "you really think it's a girl then?"

He pauses, "yeah, I do"

With that he continues working on my hair while I think over this, my mind imagining a little baby girl in Peeta's arms.

The braid doesn't come out looking as good as one I'd do myself but it's presentable and honestly for the amount of experience he has in hair braiding Peeta did a really good job. I praise him over this, thanking him profusely for doing my hair.

After, we make our way downstairs, Peeta helping me down them carefully just as he has been doing often lately.

There we meet my mom, sitting comfortably with a newspaper on her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. She smiles as we enter, asking her daily question of how I'm doing to which I reply honestly telling her about the Braxton hicks I've been feeling all night and now morning.

She pats the seat next to her which I take not so gracefully, plopping down into the seat with great weight.

Both she and Peeta try desperately to suppress their giggles as I stare daggers at them both, their attempts not very well done.

Once they finally settle down we jump into conversation, mostly about the baby and how much longer we think it's going to stay in there.

As we go into more of the TMI stuff Peeta leaves us to it, asking what I want for breakfast before hastily going to prepare it for me, leaving me and my mother to medical talk.

We're deep in discussion about mucus plugs and strange liquids when we hear a crash from the kitchen.

"Peeta?" I call out almost immediately, I wait but no response comes. "Peeta are you okay?" I ask again slightly louder.

When no response comes again I grow worried, heaving myself up to a standing position to waddle out into the kitchen to investigate.

When I find him I realise almost immediately what the problem is. Peeta sits on the floor knees up to his chest, hands griping them tightly as he rocks ever so slightly back and forth.

"Peeta" I soothe, "it's not real, whatever you're seeing right now it's not real"

I watch as his knuckles grow whiter, his grip tightening as his mind tries to comprehend whatever images it is showing him at the moment.

I squat down to his level, all of my joints complaining at the movement, my pelvis feeling like it's on fire as it comes to term with this position it hasn't been in in awhile.

I'll probably come to regret this move later but right now all I care about is my husband who has moved his hands to clutch at his head.

I reach out a gentle hand to touch his toned arm, "I'm here, you're okay" I say gently, continuing to whisper soothing things to him until finally he looks up a glint of tears reflecting off his scared but otherwise normal blue eyes.

"It's okay" I say again, stroking his arm in another gentle brush. "We're okay" I further state, knowing whatever he just pictured could have been about anyone of us.

He nods numbly and with that established I slowly rise to stand again, my joints about to give way if I hold that position any longer.

As I stand I feel the all too familiar Braxton hick, my back bending over as I'm struck by the intense pain. I sigh though gritted teeth, reminding myself of the breathing techniques I was taught to do through the pain.

Peeta is standing beside me again as I near the end of my Braxton hick, rubbing my back as he usually would.

When I finally straighten again I go to ask if Peeta is okay after his episode but I'm interrupted by my mother standing against the doorframe. "How far apart are your Braxton hicks Katniss?" She asks me intently.

I shrug, "I think some are getting to fifteen- twenty minutes apart" I think aloud.

She smiles weakly, "I think you might be beginning to have contractions, Braxton hicks aren't usually that painful" she pauses, "or that close together"

I'm struck to silence by her words.

"What does that mean" I ask nervously.

She smiles wider, "well it would mean you're in the early stages of labour"

I look to Peeta seeing his face matches my surprised feelings.

"Does that mean we're having the baby?" He asks finally.

My mother nods briefly, "well there's no telling how long it'll take for you to progress to the later stages of labour, but being in early labour means likely anytime from now until the next day or so you'll probably have the baby yes"

I weakly smile up at Peeta, my voice shaky "we're having a baby. Real or not real?"

He turns to look back at me, chuckling lightly.

"Well... real I guess"