Mar. 12th, 2006

stbethadettes: (back of head)
Beth is slim. She's always been slender and got even leaner in the two years after the plague. Despite maybe gaining a couple of pounds within the past month or so, it's not obvious she's carrying a baby.

A doctor would probably tell her that the ideal amount of weight for her to gain with this pregnancy is a little more than the average.

But she doesn't have a regular doctor. And for this entire first trimester, she hasn't had very much interest in reading any pregnancy books. At St. Bernadette's she'd flip through one or two, if only because taking books from the library and reading them once or twice was one of the best ways she has to pass time there.

She knows she will eventually, though. Either she'll ask the bar for something ideal to read or find Snow and ask some questions or talk to Tonks next time she sees her. Or hell, maybe all of the above at some point.

About eight years ago (or closer to ten, bar time), she read something about pregnancy that talked about how the memory of the morning sickness and mood swings and other obnoxious symptoms would just melt right away as soon as the baby was born.

She thought that was bullshit. She still does.

Even so, she's got a new primary concern in the well-being of this baby. And multiple other concerns stem from it.

She just refuses to address those secondary concerns until she has to.

Right this minute, the only thing really concerning her is making sure Spike's back gets soaped up.

And maybe that no members of the Official Tough Guy Club burst in. Not for her sake, of course. The bubbles tend to end up strategically placed, and she'd let any intruders in her bathroom have it anyway.

But she'd never tell anyone she's managed to get Spike in a bubble bath with her twice now.


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January 2009

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