There had been a change somewhere along the line, as imperceptible as fine particles of dust settling outside of sunlight. Sometime, another time, when she hadn't been looking or paying attention, Geneva had changed. She had become a different creature, another creature, one that was completely unrelated to who she had been before. And with that, she became something completely bigger than and ultimately different from herself. She became something that would belong completely to her, but have nothing to do with her.
She became a mother.
In trying to pinpoint the moment of transition, in attempting to determine when, where, what the catalyst was for this momentous exchange of emotion between herself and her new purpose; it seemed infallible to try to narrow it down to one set of moments. One time where the sleepless nights, and the incessant questioning started and her other life ended. When the worrying began, where the road from point A to point B became the new blueprint of authenticity, where all exits led to another person and selfishness became a one way street.
And she breathed. And she pushed. And somewhere between the blood, the sweat, the tearing of flesh, she realized this: she knew nothing. She was nothing. And she cried out to god, to anyone who knew her, to anyone who knew her before she woke up to this new life. She was caught in between all she wished for and all she needed, in a sacred prison of expectation and insecurity.
And everything she used to be took a back seat to the here and now. Her entire being was concentrated, centered, and anchored to this blessed event. And she bushed. And she breathed. Now she was becoming the person she had to be, for him. It was becoming more and more clear, even more painfully obvious that she didn't know what she was doing, that she was as blind as he was, coming into the world. Nothing would ever look the same. Nothing would ever feel the same.
And in the end, everything she never thought she wanted, everything she never thought she deserved, made sense.
"Pripyat," she whispered, suffused with the warm glow of her life, of their lives. Her son.