some things can be challenging

Chapter 7

Lucy

I am now around 16 weeks pregnant, and my growing bump is becoming quite noticeable. It feels like almost half the station knows, and I've made sure to inform Grey about it. Tim and I haven't spoken in a while, and I know it's largely my fault for ignoring his attempts to reach out and explain himself. When I finally mustered the courage to tell him about the pregnancy, his reaction devastated me. The way he looked at me, the silence that followed, and the lack of a reassuring smile made me question everything. Was he upset about the pregnancy because he no longer cared about me? A whirlwind of doubts and emotions swirled in my mind.

I remember sitting alone in my car, tears streaming down my face as I tried to process his reaction. What happened to the kindness he wanted to pay back? Couldn't he have at least hugged me, even just as a friend, to offer some comfort and support? After all, I am carrying his child. But I detest the term "baby mama"; it diminishes the depth of what I'm going through. Despite the hurt, I know eventually we need to talk things through. I want to hear his side of the story, even if it might be painful.

Patrol duty that day was relatively routine, though I had to stay cautious given the circumstances. I managed to apprehend a couple of shoplifters, which added a bit of action to an otherwise mundane shift. When Celina and I returned home, we debated dinner plans. I wasn't up for cooking, and after some deliberation, we settled on ordering pizza through UberEats. I have a penchant for avocado on my pizza, along with olives, onions, rocket, chili, and garlic—a combination Tim used to enjoy. But I try not to dwell on memories of him too much.

While waiting for the pizza, feeling too emotionally drained to do much else, I changed into comfortable clothes and glanced at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Seeing my growing belly brought Tim back into my thoughts, and tears threatened to overwhelm me. I steadied myself against the bathroom counter, taking deep breaths to regain composure. Removing my light makeup and washing my face helped distract me momentarily, but thoughts of Tim and our fractured relationship persisted.

I can't shake the question from my mind: Does Tim even want to meet our daughter? The memory of his rejection still feels like a fresh wound in my heart.

As Celina and I settled in to eat our pizza, the comfort of the warm, cheesy slices did little to dispel the ache in my heart. With each bite, I felt the absence of Tim more keenly, especially when Celina broached the subject of baby names.

"Do you have any baby names in mind?" Celina asked, her voice gentle yet probing, knowing how sensitive the topic was for me.

I sighed softly, swirling a piece of avocado around my plate before responding. "I have a few names I've been considering," I began, my tone wistful. "There's Ivy, which means vine. It might not have the strongest meaning, but I adore its earthy, natural feel."

"That's beautiful," Celina murmured, taking another bite of her pepperoni pizza.

"I'm also drawn to Madelyn," I continued, finding solace in sharing my thoughts. "It means High Tower, and we could call her Maddy for short." I paused, tracing the rim of my glass absentmindedly. "And then there's Athena, meaning goddess of wisdom. Her middle name would definitely be Ada, which means Noble." 

"They're all lovely choices, Lucy," Celina said warmly, her eyes reflecting sympathy. "I know this might be difficult to think about, but have you decided if she'll have your last name or Tim's?"

I hesitated, my hand instinctively moving to rest protectively over my stomach. "I honestly don't know," I admitted quietly, feeling uncertain. "It depends on whether Tim wants to be a part of her life or not. When I told him the news, he just... turned me away." The memory still stung, fresh, and painful despite the passage of time.

I glanced down at my plate, suddenly unable to eat another bite. The weight of decisions about our daughter's future felt overwhelming, compounded by the uncertainty of Tim's intentions. Would he step up to be a father? Or was I facing this journey alone, making choices that would shape our daughter's identity without his input?

Celina reached across the table, her hand finding mine in a gesture of understanding and support. "You don't have to figure it all out right now," she reassured me gently. "We'll take it one step at a time."

I managed a grateful smile, touched by her empathy. Despite the mixed emotions swirling within me, I knew I was fortunate to have Celina by my side, helping me navigate this uncertain path toward motherhood.