thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] Conspirators)
Lydia was normally a very patient, serene sort of person. She didn't get frazzled easily, she dealt well with the foibles of her family and could soothe ruffled feathers and the more...volatile personalities that surrounded her with soft touches and gentle smiles. They depended on her for it, without knowing they did, she sometimes thought, and she played her role of steadier influence to the somewhat frenetic energy of the carnival as Joseph had before her without a murmur. It suited her, and let her bury any of her own turmoil away in soothing routines and find strength in familiarity to bolster an innate fragility she let very few see.

But for the moment, she was done, and for the last couple of weeks had been riding an edge she couldn't quite seem to balance upon. Everything hurt. She was as liable to burst into tears as smile. The first couple of months of her third trimester had been filled with a sense of well-being, for the most part, but while she could capture moments of that here and there, it seemed to have disappeared in a wave of impatience. Also, the frequent Braxton Hicks contractions and cramping had her sending for Sarah, the midwife, enough the past couple of weeks that the poor woman finally just had her trailer moved next to Lydia and Samuel's for the duration.

Of course, after that, Lydia managed to figure out what the fake ones felt like. What? She hadn't been pregnant in 16 years! Your mind made this part foggy, she was sure. Otherwise no one would go through it again and the human race would die out.

With a sigh, she sat back in the chair under the canopy and watched the family going about the day's work. )
thepainted_lady: (*facepalm*)
I am so very, very done with this. I not going to make it 15 more days.

I'd really like to be able to see my feet again, k?

ETA: ...On the endearing side, she kicks every time I speak, like she's really excited to hear my voice, which is really sweet? Though I do wish she'd stop kicking so hard.
thepainted_lady: ([Samuel] What comes next?)
[ooc: Samuel is [livejournal.com profile] offering_hope and used with permission and the very kind indulgence of his mun for my need for some fluff in the midst of an angsty week. <3]

Maybe I know somewhere deep in
my soul that love never lasts.
And we've got to find other ways
to make it alone or keep a straight face.
And I've always lived like this
keeping a comfortable, distance.
And up until now I swore to myself
that I'm content with loneliness,
'cause none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well, you are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, And I'm on my way to believing


There really was only so much you could do to make a trailer homey. Lydia sat in the middle of the sofa, with the cupboards and closet emptied all around her in neat little stacks on counters and tabletops and every furniture surface--because no way she could manage to get anything off the floor at this point--frowning and nibbling on her lower lip as she looked at it all critically.

It wasn't right. She huffed, sending a wisp of hair flying, and pushed it back impatiently out of her eyes. Even now, after she'd scrubbed out every single corner of the cabinets and gotten the dust bunnies out of the back of the closet, it just...didn't feel right to put things back in. Something wasn't right.

Samuel came in, looking down at a sheaf of papers in his hand and almost tripped over a stack of books, making Lydia look up with a wince.

"Sorry! I didn't expect you back for a bit..."

Staring around the room, Samuel took it in, then looked back at her, an expression she couldn't quite interpret between amusement and annoyance on his face. "Again?"

Lydia shrugged a bit, looking down, then back up at him. "The shelves need new paper."

'I see.' )
thepainted_lady: (Wistful)
Wednesdays in autumn were, on a rule, quiet around the carnival. The rubes' children had all gone back to school, and the rubes to work, and no one wanted a show when they had to all get up early the next morning. Summers were different. During the summer they could end up having a show every night, but in the autumns a sort of serenity settled over the carnival during the week. People slept in a little later, because there wasn’t so much to do. Chores were more leisurely, and people chatted while they tended to the daily needs, or went about the maintenance of rides and games to be ready for the coming weekend.

It was still unseasonably warm, but there was a bit of a breeze where Lydia sat under a tree and looked back at the towering steel and flapping pennants that looked somehow abandoned on this rolling plain. If she closed her eyes, reached out, she could feel just how unabandoned it was, with life and emotion and hopes and fears all tangling around inside the members of the family who moved through their day. She’d finished up her work for the day, and not wanting to confine herself to the stuffy interior of the trailer, and feeling more of an urge to commune with herself than the family, her feet and heart had led her here. Keeping her eyes closed, she drifted; hearing the soft buzz of insects, the trickle of the stream; feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin; smelling the distant smoke and meat that indicated Samuel or someone had fired up the grills for dinner. That made her smile, more than a little grateful that her appetite had finally returned.

Stretching her ability, she checked in on each loved one, sensing their mood, making sure there was nothing she was needed for at the moment. Everyone seemed content enough, so she pulled back into herself, stretching a little, and then stilling abruptly as a flutter went off in her abdomen.

It tickled a little, feeling like bubbles running around under the surface of her skin. )
thepainted_lady: (Happy smile)
As of this week, the baby is developing irises in its eyes, and fingernails and hair! Even more exciting--when we go into the clinic this week, we might be able to hear its heartbeat for the first time!!!!!!
thepainted_lady: (Secret smile)
Barring complications, he or she will be a Pisces, like me.
thepainted_lady: (You need to listen)
[ooc: Samuel is [livejournal.com profile] offering_hope and used with love and permission]

The sun was hot, beating down on on her skin as Lydia stood outside the clinic on the dusty street in the little town. Her stomach had calmed down for the most part, but nerves were threatening to make it rebel again. The last year had brought so much change, the world that she'd known, which had gone along so smoothly for fourteen years tilted all askew again, and she knew that it could tilt again on a whole new axis in a heartbeat. For all she wanted it, craved it, even, it was near terrifying to think, and for a moment she wished she'd asked someone--anyone--to come with her. But she didn't want to get Samuel's hopes up, and Edgar wasn't here, and the others...she just didn't know who to ask. Besides, if she was wrong, if this was just some lingering bug she wasn't shaking, then how embarrassing that would wind up being. It would have involved admitting what was just a secret hope still, a quiet dream between her and Samuel, and she wasn't ready to have that exposed if she was getting ahead of herself. With a soft sigh, she swallowed back her fear, and reached for the door, stepping into the air conditioned, sterile smelling room, and tried to make her stomach relax as memories come flooding back.

* * *

He didn't come with her to the clinic for her first ultrasound, saying he needed to work, to get them money if she was going to keep "it." The words stung, and she could barely breathe with fear while she waited, but when she watched the tiny heartbeat on the monitor, her fear slipped away, replaced by something so pure she didn't think that "love" was the right word for it, because it didn't encompass enough. Rushing back to the motel they were shacked up at, she kept the picture clutched tight to her chest, eyes lighting up as she came inside, sure that as soon as Danny saw it, he'd feel what she felt, see what she saw. But he didn't even look at the image, just tossing it aside as he pushed her down on the bed, lips and hands hungry and heedless of the sore and sensitive places her changing body had developed. She tried to deceive herself that it was out of love, excitement about being a father, starting a family with her, but every touch told her the truth, and after he fell asleep she moved to pick up the image, cradling it close to her, and promising the growing life inside of her that she'd find them both a better place.

* * * )
thepainted_lady: (Deep in thought)
It seemed far too easy, far too fast, but she'd never had an iron problem, and the stomach flu wouldn't have gone on this long, so Lydia started counting down each queasy morning toward the week that would confirm the suspicion she was too afraid of jinxing to say aloud.

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Lydia

October 2011

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