Four syllables. Three words and one contraction. A phrase that is used widely to justify the many things that happen in life. A sick, elderly person dies; it's for the best because they're in a better place. A child is put up for adoption; it's for the best because its 16 year old mother isn't capable of taking care of it and another family can. A relationship ends; it's for the best because they never could make each other happy.

Maybe it is for the best, but what about those who are left behind? The family mourns the death of a loved on. The young mother wishes she could see her child again. The one left holding on just can't seem to let go of everything that's happened. What abou them? In what way is it best for them?

It's close to 4 a.m. and I can't sleep. I know that I should. I know that I have to for the sake of my baby (my baby, not our baby), but I just can't. My mind won't turn off and I can't stop thinking about the things that happened today (technically, yesterday).

Addison and Mark are over. Who would have thunk it? I bet some people have won some money betting against us at the hospital. It's not something I would doubt. Seattle Grace is known for its rather cruel ways, but I could really care less about them. My mind is focused on Mark, Mark and I, me and Mark, just everything that has to do with Mark.

Is it pathetic that when I arrived at the hotel earlier, I walked straight past my room and went to Mark's door, just about to knock when I realized what I was doing. From here on out, I would never be able to stay with him again. I would never be able to sleep over in his room or apartment when he found one. It was over, really over. The end, that's it.

I try not to regret breaking it off with Mark because I know it was for the best. We'd hurt each other way too much and in many ways throughout the years. It was time I stopped hurting him for good. But my heart refuses to let go.

When he almost brushed my hair behind my ear in the on-call room, I hadn't wanted it. I didn't want to think of it as the last time he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I didn't want to think of the glance I threw his way as the last time it would ever happpen. It was the truth, but I didn't want to think that. I didn't want to remember because I knew I would dwell on "the lasts."

They weren't supposed to hurt this much; "the lasts." They weren't supposed to hurt at all because I'd told myself I wouldn't dig deep enough. I wouldn't try to remember every "last" I shared with Mark, and yet here I am, awake at an ungodly hour, recalling the few last memories I shared with him. Our last kiss: the morning before I told Juliet I was pregnant. Our last laugh: over something he said during breakfast. Our last time making love: Christmas night with the most amazing sex I'd ever had. There are just so many "lasts" to remember. I'm trying to figure them all out.

I want so badly to be able to let go and just go to sleep, but I just can't. I loved him with all my heart, and I still do. I can't stop. I can't stop all the images of how happy we'd been. I can't stop seeing how I had imagined our future. Trying to picture Mark sleeping with someone else, which I figure is quite probable, isn't even getting me to stop. I don't know how and I don't know what to do.

My baby needs me. It needs me to be strong for the both of us. I need to be able to do this by myself. I'm capable of doing just that, I know. I'm strong and independent. Being a single mother wouldn't be all that bad. I could do it. I know I can. I just first must let everything go and start taking care of us.

One day soon, I'll be able to do just that. Until then, I'm stuck here wondering if this was for the best, how bad is everything else supposed to be?

Everyone has something to hide, whether it's a failing a marriage, a dreadful affair, or an unexpected pregnancy. You walk around, pretending everything is okay, making everyone believe that there's nothing going on and that everything is perfectly normal. Sometimes the secret tears you apart inside just waiting to burst out, and other times, you just know that it's best to keep the secret from spilling out.

Today I told an intern, the new intern Juliet Dawson, about being pregnant. It wasn't calculated. I wasn't forced. I just decided to tell her. In retrospect, I really don't know why I felt inclined to. I did then, but now it all just seems very odd.

She shared something rather personal and I think that's why I may have decided to let my secret out. But then again, if it were anyone else, I think I would have played it off, pretended I'd eaten something bad, or just something. Juliet Dawson intrigues me. She's a lot more genuine that most people around here. She speaks her mind, and because of that she speaks rather incessantly which I find quite amusing. Juliet's different from the other interns and I can imagine some kind of friendship could form out of this.

I know she won't tell anyone about my being pregnant. If I thought otherwise, I wouldn't have told her. Now my only problem is Mark. I haven't told him about telling Juliet yet and I'm not sure how he'd react. Christmas with Mark was amazing and we've gotten closer and closer to each other with each passing day. But before, we had agreed that it was best to not tell anyone for the time being. It's been a while since then, but I don't know if his feelings have changed about it.

The baby isn't exactly our most popular subject. It's great that there isn't an awkward feeling when it's brought up anymore, but it's still not something we discuss in great detail. There's nothing of guessing gender or thinking up names. I've yet get my first prenatal appointment. I really need to get that done soon. I want Mark to be there and he said he'd try, but I get the feeling he's still being reluctant which is to be expected.

I don't blame him. The whole pregnancy wasn't planned and with Mark, I'm sure he wasn't planning on having children anytime soon. It sort of sprung on us and we're just trying to cope with it.

So now, a total of three people know about this pregnancy. I'm starting to rethink telling Derek myself. I'm sure he's happy with Meredith and telling him would only make him think that I'm trying to hold him back. I'm not and I refuse to let him think that. At first I thought it'd be better if I tell him instead of letting him find out through the hospital gossip. Now I just don't know which would be the better choice. I think it's time I talk to Mark about this again. Soon...

Soon, things will change.