by Brie Paisley
Before I walked inside our apartment, I already knew that I wanted this baby. I knew that I would do anything and everything for him or her already, and I just worried Sebastian wouldn’t want the same thing.
Turns out, he wants it just as much as I do.
Two weeks later
“What about William?” I ask Sebastian, as he walks into the bedroom. This has been our thing for the past two weeks, after our first visit with our doctor. Every night, I suggest a name for a boy and a girl, and every night, Sebastian shows his distaste. “We could call him Will for short,” I add, as he sits down beside me on the bed.
“I was also thinking Brooklyn for a girl.” He smirks, knowing I’m not giving up, until he gives his approval.
“I like those names,” he says with a grin, and then leans in to kiss me tenderly.
“Finally. I thought I would have to take this baby name book back.”
“Naming our child is important,” he tacks on in a serious tone. Setting the book down, my heart swells with so much love, when he reaches over and places his hand on my stomach. “I can’t wait, until I feel him or her move.”
Laying my hand over his, I say, “Me, too. Ava said it’s one the best feelings.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, enjoying the complete bliss of what’s to come. Last week, it was strange to think of the future with a baby in it. Now, it’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Surprisingly, we’ve both accepted our unborn child, and I don’t even question the love I already feel, when I think about our baby.
It’s like an instant love, but it’s different than the way I love Sebastian. The only way I can think of how to describe it, is the bond is deeper and stronger. Every time I think about our baby growing inside of me, I get so excited about the future. I can’t wait to see my belly grow, and to see him or her getting bigger. I can’t wait to hold him or her for the first time, and I really am eager to get more ultrasounds done. While I love the one we got two weeks ago, it’s still a little weird to look at. Our baby looks like a little alien at only nine weeks old, but nevertheless, I love our nugget.
“I was thinking about something,” Sebastian states, and I glance up, wondering what’s on his mind. He’s been very attentive and is always asking if I need anything. He’s been so supportive, and he shows me every single day how happy he is about the baby. “I want to buy us a house.”
“Our apartment is plenty big for the three of us.”
“I know, but I’d like for us to have something bigger.” He glances to my stomach, as he says, “I think it’ll be good, when he or she gets older. I know how much Gabbie and Nikolai love to play outside, and I’m sure once Alexei is older he’ll be the same. I want that for our child, too.” As he looks at me, he claims, “I want to give our baby everything.”
Grinning widely, I nod, knowing exactly what he means. “Okay. We’ll start looking then.”
“Good. I’ll call a realtor and get everything set up,” he claims in an excited voice.
That’s the thing I love most about being pregnant. I’m happy all the time, and so is Sebastian. It’s so clear he’s overjoyed and ready to be a dad, and it just makes me thrilled about it. I also love how open he is about planning for not only our future, but for the future of our nugget, too.
It’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
Laughing loudly, Sebastian grins, as he tries to finish telling me a story about his childhood. We’re supposed to be watching a movie, but it seems we’re way more interested in talking. I don’t mind at all, since it’s a great feeling to hear more about his past and to see him so content.
As he finishes telling the story, the timer on the oven goes off, letting us know our dinner for the night is finished. Knowing how eager I am to eat, Sebastian leans in, leaving a kiss on my lips, before he gets up. I do the same, but instead of following him, I head towards the bathroom.
Everything seems just like any other night, but as I finish, I realize tonight is instantly different. My first thought is panic, as I see the bright red blood on the tissue. My next thought is terror. Seeing blood so early on in my pregnancy isn’t a good sign, and I fear something is wrong with the baby.
Yelling out for Sebastian, he rushes into the room, and the look in his eyes makes my heart clench. “What’s wrong?”
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I show him the tissue full of blood, as I say, “I’m bleeding.”
He’s immediately by my side, as he claims, “It’s alright. Let’s go to the emergency room just to be sure.”
I nod, and my mind is suddenly quiet, as I place a pad in my panties. My mind stays that way the entire way to the hospital, and even when our doctor checks me over. I don’t know what to think or how to even feel about what’s happening. I know bleeding during a pregnancy isn’t good, no matter how far a long you are. It’s something that every woman dreads to see, if it does show, and deep down, I know something is terribly wrong.
It’s just a sense, and even knowing this, I don’t want to admit I already know what’s happening.
I’m not sure how long we sit in the small room, after the exam is done. I don’t even remember exactly what the doctor says, once she confirms there’s no heartbeat. There is no movement at all. The baby doesn’t seem to be growing either.
The only words that play over and over in my mind is miscarriage.
My baby isn’t alive anymore, and I don’t know how to process that.
How can I be utterly and completely happy one second, and then suddenly, everything is just … over? How am I supposed to be okay after this?
In a daze, I feel Sebastian help me up off the exam table, and I barely blink, as he walks me towards the car. The entire way home, I stay in that daze. I don’t speak. I don’t do anything but breathe.
But even that’s hard.
As we pull up at our apartment complex, he reaches over and takes my hand. In a raspy voice, he states, “We’ll get through this, I promise.”
A single tear slides down my cheek, because I know he’s lying.
I’ll never be able to get through this.
The pain starts a few days later.
It wakes me in the middle of the night, and it only seems to worsen with each passing minute. Sebastian lays asleep beside me, but I can’t bear to wake him. I know he’s trying to be here for me, and offer comfort whenever he can, but I still feel utterly alone.
What’s happening is happening to me.
He can’t feel the sharp shooting pain, ripping through me. He can’t fully understand how crippling the sadness is, or how much it hurts just to think about losing our baby. I haven’t been able to talk about how much guilt I constantly feel, or how much it hurts just to look at him.
I know it’s not his fault. I know he doesn’t blame me, but every time I look into his green eyes, pain slashes through me, because I feel like I caused this. It’s my body that’s doing this, not his. It’s my body that failed, and all our plans for the future died with our baby.
I can barely form words, since the night I started bleeding. I can’t even think about losing our baby without feeling like I’m falling into a dark hole so deep that I don’t know, if I’ll ever resurface again.
So, instead of waking him just so he can watch me suffer, I curl up into a ball, and then cry softly, begging for the pain to stop. My heart already feels as if it’s shattered into a million pieces, and I don’t know how much more agony I can take. Isn’t it enough that I’m suffering emotionally, and will be for some time?
As wave after wave of sorrow and despair flow through me, wave after wave of intense cramps shoot through my stomach. It feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out.
I even wonder if I’m dying, because it feels like I am.
The next morning, I hear whispering, and I realize I don’t care what’s going on around me. After experiencing the worst kind of pain, I’ve decided to shut down. It’s easier to shut it all off than t
o feel what I do all the time. I don’t want to do anything but keep the numbness right where it is.
Feeling numb is much better than feeling such heartache.
Gazing at the wall, I don’t notice Ava, standing in front of me, until she bends down, blocking my view. “Hey, sweetie.”
My only response is to blink, since it’ll hurt to try and speak. “How about we get you up, and get you a nice shower?”
I still don’t answer her, even as she guides me out of the bed. Glancing back, my stomach clenches, as I see the blood-soaked sheets. It makes sense why Ava wants me up to take a shower. I’m probably covered in blood, too.
My baby’s blood.
Forcing myself to stop those thoughts, I clench my jaw tight, forcing myself not to cry. I refuse to think about the evidence left behind. With shaky legs, Ava holds onto my arm, as the other is wrapped around my waist. I let her help me undress, and she stays to lead me into the shower. At this point, I wonder if she’s going to stand in here with me, but she doesn’t. Once the water is going, she gives me the saddest smile, and then turns to leave. She’s probably going to get rid of those sheets.
As the hot water pours down on me, I drop my head, watching the blood wash away. At first, it’s red, but then, it slowly begins to turn pink, and then it’s clear. I don’t even realize I’m sobbing, until I suddenly can’t breathe. I give up trying to stand, deciding to sit on the tile inside the shower. Pulling my legs up to my chest, my tears mix with the water. I’ve never felt such intense pain before.
It’s indescribable.
All I do know is, I don’t think I can get through this. I’m not strong enough to accept what’s happened, and then move on. I feel like I’m drowning in grief and misery, and I don’t know, if I’ll ever be able to come back from it. Something like this will leave a permanent scar, forever branding me, forcing me to live with this pain for the rest of my life.
I don’t know how long I stay in the shower, before I realize the water has turned cold. Getting up, I quickly wash myself, and then shut off the water. Stepping out, I notice at some point someone came inside the bathroom and left me clean clothes. Thinking it was Ava, I dry off, and then dress.
My only destination in mind is going back to bed, since I’m suddenly so tired. I’m emotionally exhausted, and I hope Ava doesn’t mind that I won’t be a very good host. I’m sure Sebastian will take care of it all.
Just as I’m about to open the bathroom door, I hear Ava and Sebastian talking. They’re trying to be quiet, but I’d have to be deaf not to hear them. They must not realize the shower is off, or I’m sure they’re conversation would’ve ended.
“It’s going to take time, Sebastian,” Ava says, and my stomach drops, hearing the sadness in her voice.
“I know.” Sebastian states, and he goes silent for a moment, before he asks, “How do I help her? I don’t know how to make this better, Ava. How am I supposed to help her get through this? I saw her in the shower, and I just don’t know what to do. It kills me she’s going through this, and I can’t stand to see her hurting.” My eyes fill with tears, as I notice the torture in his voice. “I don’t know how to help her,” he claims, and the anguish in his tone is too much for me to handle.
Opening the door, they both go deathly quiet, as they see me. I don’t bother to let them know I heard them, since I prefer not to think about it. My only mission is to crawl into bed, and then go to sleep. I want to forget about everything. I don’t want to know how much Sebastian is hurting, or even acknowledge how I’m feeling.
I just want to sleep.
One month later
Using my fork, I move my uneaten food around my plate. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to eat anything, and if it weren’t for Sebastian literally forcing me to, I wouldn’t. I’ve lost all interest in everything, including the will to live. I haven’t actually tried to commit suicide, but it’s something I consider on a daily basis.
I’m tired of the endless suffering.
Pushing out a deep breath, I drop my fork with every intention of going back to bed. However, the moment I start to stand, Sebastian slams his fist onto the table, making it jerk. Sitting back down, I don’t dare look at him, because the moment I do, the pain will intensify.
“Eat,” he barks out, and I shake my head. “Fuck, Trixie. You can’t keep doing this. You’re literally starving yourself to death, and I won’t sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore.”
Swallowing hard, my eyes fill with tears, and my stomach balls into huge knots. This is another thing I can’t deal with. His disappointment is just as bad as the pain. “I’ve made you an appointment with a therapist.”
Snapping my gaze to his, I hold onto the sudden anger I feel. “You did what?”
“You’re going to talk about this with a professional.”
Clenching my jaw, a tear slides down my cheek, but it’s not because I’m sad. No, I’m beyond mad, and I’ve moved right to rage. “How dare you.” I say through clenched teeth.
He looks away for a moment, as if he’s ashamed he would do something like this without my consent. “I don’t know what else to do here, Trixie. You’re miserable and severely depressed, and I only want to help.”
My grip on the rage only tightens, because it’s all I have left, as I say, “You want to help? Then leave me the fuck alone.” Tossing my napkin down onto the full plate of food, I get up, as he does the same.
“I have left you alone, and now, look at what’s happened. You’re going through something terrible, and I just want you to talk about it.”
Turning around, I scream, “I don’t want your fucking help! I just want to be left the fuck alone.” Heaving in a deep breath, I ignore the pain in my chest, as his eyes widen. “I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I need to do, Sebastian.” Neither one of us says a word for a few moments, and with each unspoken word, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into the black hole of despair.
“I lost the baby, too,” he finally whispers, and I can’t listen to him. I can’t fucking bear to hear how much he’s hurting, or how much this is affecting him, too.
If I do, then I have to acknowledge my own pain, and I’m not ready to face it.
“No, just fucking no,” I snap, and then turn around, heading towards our bedroom.
“We have to talk about it, Trixie. I know it hurts, but we need to talk about the baby.”
I don’t say anything back, because I physically can’t. My throat is burning, as my tears begin to flow freely down my face. It’s a wonder I actually make it to the room without running into a damn wall, since I can’t see a damn thing with my blurry vision.
However, I do make it, but I don’t know why I thought our bedroom would be my escape from him, since he’s right on my heels. When he grabs my hand, I do stop, only for a moment. His touch used to bring out so many sensations, and I loved every single one of them.
But now, it’s just a reminder that I’ll never be the same.
Jerking my hand out of his, I look him in the eyes, as I admit, “I can’t do this anymore.” He frowns, and I know he’s waiting for more. Sucking in a deep breath, I know the only way he’ll let me go is to tell him the truth that I’ve been hiding.
“You’re just a daily reminder of what I’ve lost, and I just can’t do it anymore.”
I don’t know if it’s the tone of my voice, or maybe, it’s just what I said that does what I intended. I hurt him, and I instantly notice the change in him. His entire body tenses, as his eyes grow cold, and then he claims, “Then fucking leave.”
Fear rushes through me, but only for a moment, as I realize what I’ve done. No matter how much I still love him, I can’t keep doing this to him. The thing is, I don’t know how to stop, so I give him one final glance, and then walk out of the room.
He doesn’t bother to stop me.
Not even, as I walk right out the front door, and then out of his life.
I tell myself it’s better th
is way, but really, it just makes the sorrow even more present than it was before. There are certain situations that people can’t come back from. Those moments take away part of your soul, and without that vital piece, you can never come back. That’s how I feel, and now that I walked out on him, I left the last part of me with him.
Six months later
Staring at the computer screen at my desk, I read over the email a new client sent me. I always thought I wouldn’t be cut out for a desk job, but for the past six months, I’ve adjusted pretty well at the accountant position. Granted, my dad had to call in a few favors to get me this position, but in the end, it’s been a good distraction.
My days are filled with long and boring tasks, instead of naked women, dancing on a stage. It’s a drastic change, but I know I needed this. I needed something different to keep my mind from thinking about things of the past.
Or more importantly, from a man of my past.
Sighing deeply, I respond to the long and boring email, hoping to ease the client’s worries. That’s what my job consists of the most, reassuring people about their money day in and day out.
As my desk phone rings, I mindlessly reach over and answer it. “Beatrice Harrington, speaking. How may I help you?”
“God, that never gets old,” Ava says with a laugh.
“Trust me, I know, but it is my name, so I have no choice, but to use it.” All my reservations, about my given name, apparently don’t matter anymore, now that I’ve started over with my new life.
As much as I tried to leave all my past in the past, Ava can’t seem to let go. I don’t mind, since she’s still my best friend. Kendra, however, wasn’t exactly on board with me moving to Chicago and starting over. Her exact words were, “You’re a fucking idiot, Trixie, and I hate you for leaving.” I know she didn’t really mean that, but I know she’s still upset I left without saying goodbye. Ava was a bit more forgiving, given the circumstances.
“How are you doing?” She asks, and my stomach instantly clenches.
