✧Chapter 29✧

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Lachlan was entirely right. Having a therapist, talking it out and have someone be a common sense filter for me when my thoughts became too muddled to handle made it feel like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. He helped me deal with the guilt of leaving my little siblings behind, the grief at the loss of Faith and dealing with the upcoming arrival of my baby girl, preparing me for the difficulties that would come with it.

However, the main thing he wanted to focus on was me being transgender. I hadn't even realised how deep the repressed feelings went until he got me to recite incidents from my childhood, and situations I hadn't even realised were affected by my feelings. Suddenly all those times I dressed up in Gabriel's clothing, the times I wanted to be in the workshop rather than cooking and cleaning. The time I took a pair of scissors to my hair as a seven-year-old, cutting it all off in an effort to look more like my father. I hadn't even realised how interconnected everything was until I was forced to stare it in the face.

But I had to admit, it made things easier. I got my first binder, I transitioned from dresses and skirts to trousers and sweatpants, oversized t-shirts and hoodies of my own. I stopped dressing to appease a god I wasn't sure even existed and dressed for my own comfort. It was getting more difficult to do most things with a swollen stomach.

Things started to arrive to the apartment. First it was a cot, then clothing and bottles and a pram and nappies, which we piled in the third bedroom until we could be bothered to sort it out. Jerome was busy with work and I was too tired, so it sat in a pile until either of us could get around to doing something about them.

"Mornin' Mitch." Jerome greeted, pulling out the chair beside him for me to sit. He had been more and more like this since I had started to show, more affectionate, more... he hovered more. I knew it was because he was worried about me, but it was nice to have someone close to me. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm alright." I said, shifting in my seat with one arm across my stomach. "Tired. Everything feels weird, I don't know how to explain exactly. I feel swollen."

Grace laughed from the doorway, her son on her hip. I hadn't even realised she was there until she spoke, having popped over from next door to say hi. I suspected it was so she could have some peace for a few minutes and leave Rob to wrangle the older two before he left for work.

"Yeah, it gets like that pretty fast." She chuckled, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "It isn't pleasant, but it won't last too much longer. Another... two months to go?"

"Something like that."

I had found keeping track of the time was difficult. It made it easier not to think about the time slipping by and the day of my baby's arrival came closer and closer. The fact that it was only two months away, potentially even less if she decided to make an early entrance into the world, scared me. I preferred not to think about it if I was completely honest.

"It'll be alright Mitch." Grace said, rubbing my shoulders. "We'll be here. We'll all be here for you."

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It was two days before Faith's birthday- she would have been turning seventeen- that I first started experiencing cramping. It was painful and uncomfortable, but I had the knowledge that it would like me a little while before my baby was born. It could be up to a few days.

Jerome's calm demeanour slipped for a little while when I first told him and the panic in his eyes made me smile, because for once I felt calm. He was always the level-headed one, the shoulder to lean on when I was freaking out or scared, and now I was the one calming him. I knew I was ready to meet my baby.

We went to the hospital 24 hours later, when the cramping turned into contractions, and when nothing progressed, we knew what would have to be done. It was early on the morning of Faith's birthday, some time around 4am I think but I was in too much pain to really keep track of time, that the call was made for a C-section.

Faith Amity Aceti was born at 6:03am on November 8th, weighing 5 pounds, 5 ounces. She was a healthy baby girl and she came out screaming at the top of her lung- the relief I felt to hear her was overwhelming and I could fully express the wave of emotions that overran me. My baby was here. I could finally leave that part of my life behind and begin anew with my partner and daughter.

"She's here." Jerome had whispered, gently squeezing my hand as he watched the doctors. I could see what they were doing, but soon after the baby was on my chest and I was crying with joy. It turned out Grace had been right, there was an immediate connection. It wasn't going to be easy, I wouldn't always know what to do, but I loved this little girl with all of my heart.

"She is." I replied, sighing. I was exhausted, but I was happy.

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Everyone came to visit one at a time, or in pairs. Grace seemed to have organised it and knew how overwhelming it could be, so she kept the kids away and had the other come quietly with gifts of flowers or baby clothes. Preston and Rob came, Grace came, Vikk and Lachlan came. Hell, even Vikk's parents came!

But while the air was filled with happiness, there was something I couldn't quite explain. A crushing sadness. My parents would never see their grandchild, named for my sister. My siblings would never meet their niece, who was only a few month younger than my last sibling. There might be new siblings, nieces and nephews I would never meet. Children of my friends, children of other family members. Holding my baby I pictured all of the babies to come, and the babies that would have already arrived since I had left.

"I know what you're thinking about." Jerome murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "It's hard, I know. You're thinking about back there."

"Yeah." I breathed, running a gentle finger down the side of my sleeping daughter's face. "I don't know. It's hard to not look at her and think about what could have been."

"It doesn't matter what could have been Mitch, what matters it what comes next."

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