TITLE: "Getting Used To"
AUTHOR: Jen
EMAIL: JenR13@aol.com
RATING: G
SPOILERS: Requiem
CLASSIFICATION: VA
KEYWORDS: First person Scully POV; Scully angst
ARCHIVE: Go ahead and do it with my blessing.
SUMMARY: Some Scully thoughts about her new situation.
DISCLAIMER: Mine? As if.
NOTES: This is extremely short piece and the first post-ep I've written on my own. It's my little break from "Meant to Be?" which I am just about to wrap up.

"Getting Used To"
by Jen

Pregnant.

I'm still getting used to the idea.

I'm still getting used to the trips to the obstetrician.

I'm still getting used to the morning sickness and the occasional bout of dizziness.

I'm still getting used to the empty space I wake up to each morning.

I'm in denial about that, I think.

Every morning it's the same routine: get up, eat, and try to get on with my life.

It's a more difficult routine then it sounds.

I haven't been buying anything for the baby. As I approached my fourth month, I still hadn't even brought anything for the baby. The only baby items I have sit in the corner of my bedroom, collecting dust, all gifts from my mother and Skinner, the only two people who know of my pregnancy.

I can't get enough strength to go shopping.

I can't get used to the idea of doing it without him.

Just like I can't get used to idea of giving up his apartment, either. I continue to find the money for the rent, somewhere, even though I realize that with a baby on the way there is no way I can keep up with the payments much longer.

But giving up the apartment would be like admitting defeat.

He will come back. I know he will.

However, I can't get used to the fading feeling of hope that comes with each passing day, each passing week, each passing month.

I can't get used to it.

The baby needs things. The baby needs a mother.

The baby needs a father, too.

I try not to think about it. This baby will have a father.

The string of hope is growing thin - I can't get used to the fact that that is the truth.

So I continue the routine as the pregnancy progresses: get up, eat, go to the doctor's appointments, perform all the functions.

My mother's noticed my mood. My doctor has, too.

I'm happy about being pregnant; I really am.

I just can't get used to being pregnant without him.

Today was another doctor's appointment. Just another part of the routine: go to the office, get a lecture from the OB about my mood, go home.

Today there was a girl there, one who looked as if she'd barely turned sixteen. No one was with her and she looked all alone. Abandoned. Scared.

Like she had no support in the world.

Today I went shopping. I brought a pair of green booties to go with some of the clothes my mother had brought.

I have support.

I brought a crib, too.

I'll never get used to the idea of being pregnant without him.

But for now, I have too.

I have to get used to being a mother, too.

With that thought, I smile.

The End.

Feedback appreciated. JenR13@aol.com