(((A/N I apologize for the length of time it's taken for this to be posted. Life kinda sucks right now, if you know what I mean. But here's Chapter Forty, where we meet little Miss Mellark :) There will be one more chapter after this. Please review with your favorite memory of this story, so that I know what you guys really loved!Thank you so much!))

So, pregnancy kind of makes me want to throw myself off of a cliff.

I hate how the lump forming on my mid-section makes me limbs look even scrawnier, and how I can't go hunting now because the extra weight of my belly keeps me unbalanced and slow.

Yet… there's something about this bump that keeps my heart warm all the time.

Peeta is being as helpful as he can and being a real sweetheart, but I believe I've become immune to that. He offers me a hand in everything I do now: to stand, to sit, to lie down, to take a shower, to sit on the toilet, to take use the stairs, even to eat. He'll just sit there and try to turn the spoon he's holding into an airplane and try to feed me. I think he's pretending that the baby is me, instead of being inside of me.

Every day I find myself staring down at my toes, which become less and less visible as the baby grows. I'm hoping it's a boy; Peeta hopes for a girl.

"How's she doing?" he'll say, with a rub of my stomach.

"I'm doing fine, thanks for asking." I'll say back sarcastically, but not bitterly.

These are the next forty-two weeks of my life. And then…

The baby comes early.

My water breaks.

Peeta is at the bakery.

Effie is with Haymitch in the town square.

I am panicking on the couch, making weird noises.

There's this feeling in my gut that makes me think about passing out, but I know that would be devastating with no one here.

I wobble over to the phone, careful to take one step at a time and keep my balance. I breathe in quickly, breathe out even faster, and push the numbers on the phone.

"Katniss? Is everything okay?" his voice hums over the line, his worry seeping through the telephone line.

"Baby." I say, "Baby, baby, baby, BABY!" I repeat, finding it the only thing I can say.

There's a crash on the other line, and I barely hear him call, "On my way!" from a distance. This gives me some sort of relief.

I don't want to ruin the couch or the carpet, so I sit on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinets and try to steady my breathing for a few minutes. I feel the baby coming, but I have to wait for Peeta, I have to. I have no clue how to deal with a baby.

Suddenly I'm flooded with panic; what if Peeta has never learned how to treat a newborn? He worked at a bakery, his parents were both bakers, not nurses. If the baby isn't cared for immediately there could be side effects I don't want to think about…

Peeta comes bursting through the front door, and to my relief Hazelle follows.

"Katniss?" he calls out, clearly confused as to why I'm not lying on the comfortable couch.

"Here." I grunt.

Peeta slides across the tile floor and places a hand on my forehead, gripping my hand with the other. I dig my nails into his skin, but he doesn't complain.

Hazelle is so focused she doesn't greet me, she only lays a towel out on the floor, gives me one to put between my teeth, and gives me some instructions.

A few minutes later, after every bone in Peeta's hand is broken, and every ounce of energy has left my body, Hazelle is cradling our baby.

All of the hatred I felt for that stupid lump is extracted from my mind, replaced by a steady warmth and tug of my heart for the bundle in Hazelle's arms.

"It's a girl." She smiles at me and Peeta. I find myself ecstatic, despite my longing for a boy; right now I have a child, and that's all that matters. Peeta, on the other hand, jumps up and eagerly takes our little girl into his arms.

"This is going to sound so cliché… but she's beautiful." He mutters, his eyes watering. I have to swallow a lump in my throat as he passes her to me.

The moment my eyes meet her little nose, I burst into tears. I feel so emotional, and this would set anyone over the edge.

She has my nose, my dark hair that is matted to her damp head.

Her eyes blink open, the length of her thick eyelashes one of Peeta's assets, and I see that she has his bright blue eyes as well. My heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest.

"She is beautiful." I nod in agreement, one of my tears dropping onto the blanket wrapped around her.

"She looks a lot like you." Hazelle says quietly to Peeta. I feel a second of awkwardness, realizing that she used to imagine my baby would look like her son, Gale. But then I'm brought back to the moment, and as I kiss the tip of Ember's nose I feel a feeling I've never experienced, a new kind of love that differs from the love I have for Peeta.

I thank Hazelle for her help and send her home with some cookies as a thank you. She's getting older now and living with Posy, her daughter.

Peeta scoops me into his arms as soon as I realize I can't stand very well. He washes me up for the most part, and then sets me down in bed where I cuddle against him and rock Ember back and forth, feeling complete and utter glee in every pulse of my blood, every beat of my heart.

We've bought a crib for Ember, which stands in the corner of our room. Peeta has painted it a variety of colors, since we haven't been sure of the baby's gender until now. It's a bright, attention-grabbing object in our dull white room, one that seems perfectly out of place.

But that's just life, I guess. There are some good things, some bad things, some things that are so perfectly out of place that you can't help but wonder if the bad things are ultimately good in the end. Because with this baby in my arms, and this man at my side... well, this sure feels pretty damn good.