It's easy to say that in her twenty-some years of existence, Lillian West has made a fair amount of bad decisions and mistakes, things she's regretted and things she hasn't. She does not believe in living with regrets and most of her choices, most of those bad decisions, she would not take back. They have shaped and modeled her into the person that she is and she likes that person (some of the time. Most of the time.) and she would not want to go back and reroute her life. At least she thinks so, anyway, and it is what she convinces herself of the time. It's true, mostly. She can't change the past, she can only plan for the future, and this was most definitely, most certainly, not in any plan or agenda or endgame she had in mind for herself. Life was uncertain and unpredictable, she knew that, and it was easy to go along with what life threw in her direction.

But some things were too much, too life altering and changing, to simply 'roll with' and accept for being how they were and what was 'meant to be' because this couldn't possibly be part of her life plans, it couldn't be how she ended up. Not another statistic, another flaw in the system, someone who sacrificed all of their potential because of choices.

As far as Lily is concerned at this point, the thing inside of her, making her tired and weak and throw up every meal she attempts to it, is an it. It's not a boy, it's not a girl, it's an "it"; a leech, a parasite, something that's latched onto her and has disrupted her entire existence. And she's thought of it before, being a mother, but mostly in an abstract sense of the word. Gone so far as to plan on it, even, thoughts and ideas dancing through her head of potential offspring, the features they'd possess, because despite her mother's nagging being a turn-off, she's wanted to be a mother for as long as she could remember. She had ideas and plans and the dream of being absolutely nothing like her mother or Rory's mother, she'd do things right and wouldn't allow herself or her child(ren) to fall into the same trap that so many Wests had fallen into.

But being faced with the unwanted reality of a situation, the unease and lack of being ready, makes childhood, girlish, dreams feel as if it's a nightmare instead of a fantasy come true. The little plus sign is a mockery, not a joyous event, and she throws it in trash. Promptly tries to put it to the back of her mind, tries to forget. After, she follows her schedule, all detailed and planned out, her life in boxes. It's appointments and meetings and plans all timed perfectly and her life is a familiar routine, day in and out, with little to surprise her or throw her off of every perfectly timed moment.

Sometime between appointments and meetings, hurried deadlines and on-the-scene reports, she finds time to throw up what little food she's managed to eat that day. It was what little she'd managed to eat, she told herself, that had made her sick. As she leans against the wall next to the bathroom sink after trying to wash the taste out of her mouth, Lily makes a mental note to not eat anything from the work breakroom for a while.  Clearly, it just didn't agree with her.

In the back of her mind, she knows that ignoring the problem won't go away. It'll only make it worse. And she has people to talk to, places to go, and methods to properly deal with it that aren't tucking the problem away in the back of her mind for most of the day and going on with life as normally as she can.

It's easy to ignore and overlook at first. She's working hard, she's tired, she's sick, the excuses come quickly and easily enough to justify how she feels on any given day that doesn't involve dealing with the heavy and deep reality of the situation and it's as if her brain defaults to suppress and ignore before it wants to do the responsible thing and behave like the adult she is and should act like. There is a lot on her mind and it is starting to take a toll on her body. If she sat back and relaxed, maybe it would all disappear, it would go away for good, and she would be able to get her life on track again and be where she was supposed to be, doing the things she was meant to be doing. She wouldn't be dragged down or held back by her stupid and useless body being tired and slow, needing stealthy bathroom breaks multiple times a day.

A co-worker gives her a questioning look, a raise of the eyebrow, when she makes her way back to her desk and she shrugs. “It's that time of year, isn't it?” Lily laughs a little, brushing her hair over one shoulder, and glances at the window. “i never get the fllu shot,” she adds with a sheepish laugh. “Too stubborn. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe you should take a few days off.” The tone is gentle, laced with concern, and Lily's heart sinks a little at how soft it is and she pauses, considering it, shifts her weight in her seat before chewing on the end of a pen, thoughtfully. Her mind is swarming with thoughts, almost bursting to tell the goddamn truth but she doesn't. She refocuses her gaze to her laptop before she buries her face in her hands, rakes her fingers through her hair, and lets her hands come to rest on the back of her neck, squeezing as she closes her eyes, lets out a sigh, and rolls her head back, letting out a soft groan. Decisions and plans and choices, she knows she has to make all of them sooner rather than later.

Those few days off would probably do her some good.