Babygirl.
you'll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile.
She cradled her belly in her hands, her palms just gently pressed to the skin, as if she could feel the tiny heart beating in her womb. And she believed she could.
Quinn was homeless, kicked out by the parents who birthed her, who raised her, who were supposed to love her even with the infant growing in her belly. Finn hated her. She didn’t want to talk to Puck.
She had no one else, except her baby girl.
“Baby,” she murmured, looking at the other kids running around, playing some game they probably made up or heard of from another at school. Parents kept eyes on their children, talking to one another. Her sad expression grew worse as her shoulders shrunk, alone on the park bench, absent-mindedly rubbing her swollen stomach with her left palm, the other holding the bottom of her rounded belly delicately.
“You still have no name,” she continued. Her frown deepened, and she thought of names through her head. But none sounded appealing. “You’ll have a name soon enough,” Quinn told her, looking down. “It’ll come to me sooner or later.”
Sighing, she closed her eyes, relaxing her muscles in the sun’s warmth. She wondered if the baby could feel the warmth through the skin that protected her from the outside world, that held her inside the belly she grew in.
Smiling, she believed that her baby girl could feel the sun through her.
Quinn was homeless, kicked out by the parents who birthed her, who raised her, who were supposed to love her even with the infant growing in her belly. Finn hated her. She didn’t want to talk to Puck.
She had no one else, except her baby girl.
“Baby,” she murmured, looking at the other kids running around, playing some game they probably made up or heard of from another at school. Parents kept eyes on their children, talking to one another. Her sad expression grew worse as her shoulders shrunk, alone on the park bench, absent-mindedly rubbing her swollen stomach with her left palm, the other holding the bottom of her rounded belly delicately.
“You still have no name,” she continued. Her frown deepened, and she thought of names through her head. But none sounded appealing. “You’ll have a name soon enough,” Quinn told her, looking down. “It’ll come to me sooner or later.”
Sighing, she closed her eyes, relaxing her muscles in the sun’s warmth. She wondered if the baby could feel the warmth through the skin that protected her from the outside world, that held her inside the belly she grew in.
Smiling, she believed that her baby girl could feel the sun through her.