Marvel quicklog: Marta/Helena
[She'd set alarms. Multiple. One to wake up. Another to wake up. A third and fourth. One to get into the shower. One to pump her tits so the baby had something to eat. One to get dressed. She knew that Helena was coming over, and knew that she had to be ready. For frozen yogurt.
Thinking about it seemed like so much work. Especially after those first few alarms. Getting up was effort, and the thought of having to talk, to make conversation, to pretend like everything was good. It made her roll over again and bury her face in the pillow. Just a few more minutes. Then she'd get up.
And she did. Later than she'd planned, but she was up, and working through that list of things she needed to do. The worst part was pumping - it always was. She saw it as another sign of the ways she'd already failed at being a good mother. The most constant - multiple times a day. And maybe she checked out a little during the time it took. Everything on autopilot until she was picking out something to wear. Yoga pants, flipflops, and a giant, oversized t-shirt. One that was big on her even while she was pregnant.
And then the dogs started. First the jingle of tags and the click of nails on hard floors, and then the soft boofs of sounds that weren't quite barks. And she was slow, but she eventually got there, pushing through four-legged bodies to get to the door, calling them by name as she used her knee to nudge them aside. She already knew it was Helena, so she opened the door.] ...Hi.