Hushed Willows I think I was blind before I met you

She'd spent more time with @Blossom of late; remembering, recounting tales of her first daughter's early childhood. Only the brightest memories, of course, but there were plenty of those to choose from. The first word she'd ever spoken. The first time she'd stood on pudgy trembling limbs. The first time she'd run herself to exhaustion and collapsed face-first into the dirt, and Reverie had been sure she was dead for a few panicked moments.

Giving life to Blossom had nearly killed her. But that day in the cave had been the most important day of Reverie's life. Becoming a mother was the only thing she had ever done that felt like it might mean something. When she saw Blossom smile, or that brightness in her eyes when she discovered something new — how could that not be worth it all, everything she'd ever wished for?

I'm glad you're here, She sighed to her daughter one morning, pulling her into a hug. Soon it would be time to do it all again. The blood and mess, her body shifting and splitting in ways she shuddered to think of. I can't admit it to anyone, but I... I'm nervous. About all of this. Blossom wouldn't betray her secret, she was sure; even so, Reverie wouldn't tell her the true extent of it. She wasn't just nervous. She was terrified.

In the next instant Reverie whisked the conversation to another topic, back to the retelling of tales from a time Blossom could not remember. Her woes were not her daughter's burden to bear. But it'd felt good to share them, at least for a moment. It felt good to know that Blossom would be by her side through it.