Forever: Beautiful Series, book two

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “I’m so sorry, Elliot. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through,” she cries as I hug her to my chest.

  A tear escapes my eye and slides toward my ear as I hold her. “Don’t be sorry, Paige. Just don’t leave me again, OK?”

  “I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

  Thirty-Five

  Paige

  Sitting in the waiting area of the hospital a few days later, I watch as Elliot nervously bounces his leg and skims through a magazine. He flicks it back on the table and huffs out his breath. “How long is this going to take?” he asks impatiently.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t know, but I hope we’re called through soon. Baby is kicking up a storm in these seats.”

  “Yeah?” He grins, placing his hand on my stomach, childlike wonder in his eyes when he feels the gentle thump through my skin. “Does it hurt?”

  “Sometimes.”

  A woman comes into the waiting area with a clipboard and a file in her hand. “Paige Larsen?” she calls out.

  “Thank god,” we say in unison.

  The ultrasound technician leads us to a room and gestures for me to lie on the chair in the middle of the room. Elliot stands by me, looking fretful and expectant. As soon as I’ve lifted my shirt to expose my belly, he captures my hand in his and holds it tightly, his eyes darting around taking in everything in the room.

  “So we're doing a general health scan?” the technician asks.

  “She’s thirty weeks,” Elliot blurts, even though the technical can see that on my chart. He has grilled me thoroughly for every detail about this pregnancy and is beyond excited about this ultrasound.

  “Thirty plus two if our earlier measurements were correct.” She wheels the machine a little closer. “Let’s get this baby on screen,” she suggests.

  The gel is surprisingly warm as she squeezes it over my stomach and uses the transducer to slide it around. An image looks like it’s zooming in and out on the screen at first, until she slows her movement, and the picture becomes something discernible.

  “There you are little one,” she says, as my eyes fill with tears while I’m watching the screen. Because of my previous stillbirth, and medical history, I’ve had a couple of ultrasounds to monitor growth and placenta health. Seeing her on screen never gets old.

  “Wow,” Elliot breathes from beside me. “That’s our baby, Paige.”

  I nod, beaming. “She’s beautiful.”

  The technician moves the transducer around my stomach and shows us different parts of our baby's body. She’s moving around so much, and I can feel each squirm of her body as she tries to escape the transducer. “She’s a cheeky one,” the tech says, trying different angles so she can take her measurements. “But it looks like everything is moving along nicely.”

  Elliot and I look at each other, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look at what we made,” he says, kissing me on the head. “She’s so beautiful.”

  “Just like you,” I say.

  Elliot

  I'm on a complete high after seeing my baby on the screen. She’s perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes. All organs functioning as expected. Baby’s healthy. Paige is healthy. I’m on cloud nine. We’re walking out of the ultrasound area together with our printed strip of photos in hand. You can see the baby’s face, hands, and feet. It’s so amazing to me that the baby in this picture is inside Paige’s body right now.

  We walk arm in arm to the elevator bay and travel down to another floor to meet with Paige’s counsellor. They talk me through the ins and outs of her illness, telling me what to look out for—hyperactivity, listlessness, delusions as well as hallucinations. This could present at any time. But they’re mostly concerned about the effect her hormone changes will have on her leading up to the birth and in the weeks following. “We’ve done a lot of work with Paige so that she can recognise changes in herself. But as her primary caregiver you’ll need to be on the lookout as well. Don’t be afraid to bring your concerns up with myself or her doctor. We all need to work together on this,” she says.

  I ask a few questions of my own. And when I’m feeling like I have an understanding of her illness, I move into the waiting room to fill out some paperwork that nominates me as her medical advocate if she’s deemed unfit to advocate for herself. This responsibility was automatically given to her parents during her hospitalisation, but both of us are more comfortable with me making these decisions. Paige’s parents don’t have the best history in making great choices.

  It isn’t lost on me that a week ago I was in Australia, pining away for Paige and praying she’d still be in love with me when I returned. And this week, I have a baby on the way and the legal responsibility for my girlfriends health. It’s more than I was expecting, but I’m more than ready for the commitment. Paige is my forever.

  As I sign the bottom of the forms, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m so glad she’s getting the help she needs now. I hate that her life was so awful it affected her mind, but recognising these things is half the battle. You wouldn’t ignore a strange lump on your body, so why ignore the voices in your head? While I'm not so glad her mother is back in her life, I am grateful to her for getting Paige the help she needed. I harbour more than a bit of resentment toward Susan over the way she treated her daughter, but if Paige wants to have a relationship with her, then I’m supportive of that. Especially considering they’re all in counselling together. I’m nervous about our future, but all of this talking gives me great hope that everything is going to work out for us. It has to. Because I’m not going anywhere.

  Thirty-Six

  Paige

  “Elliot,” I whisper, rocking him by the shoulder to wake him. “Elliot. It’s time.”

  Lifting his sleep laden head from the pillow, he looks over at the clock on the bedside table and scrunches up his face. “No, it’s not. I’ve got hours before I have to be at work,” he complains, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again. I watch him as he runs his hands over the top of his head, over the short-clipped hair I cut only yesterday.

  “Elliot,” I insist.

  Suddenly, his eyes pop open, and he sits bolt upright in bed. “Wait. What? It’s time? It’s time time?” he rambles, throwing the quilt off him and jumping out of bed. He places his hands on either side of my enormous belly and looks at me intently. “Are you sure?”

  “My waters broke and I’m having contractions. I've called the hospital, and they’re expecting us.”

  “Oh my god. This is really happening, isn’t it?” He’s freaking out a little as he pulls on the pants and shirt I’m holding out to him. “Why are you so calm?”

  “I’m not calm, Elliot. I'm about to have a giant baby come out of my vagina. I’m about as far from calm as I can be right now,” I answer tonelessly. I actually think I’m in shock.

  Elliot

  I carry Paige’s bag and hold her hand as we walk carefully down the two flights of stairs to get to the car. A contraction hits her when we’re only a few steps away, and she doubles over, clutching her belly and she moans. I have no idea what to do except rub her back and talk softly to her until the pain ebbs away.

  “OK?” I ask, checking that she’s fine to continue to the car. She nods quickly, and I guide her to the passenger side, dropping her bag on the back seat before getting in and driving us to the hospital.

  This isn’t like any other birth situation. Because of Paige’s past, and her mental health, there’s a real chance giving birth could trigger a depressive episode brought on from the trauma her mind associates with giving birth. I’m excited to meet our baby. But I'm fucking petrified of losing my love. It’s delicate.

  Reaching out, she grabs my arm while I’m driving as another contraction hits. “Look at me, Paige. Keep your eyes open,” I instruct, my heart beating in my chest so hard it’s echoing through my ears. “Stay here with me.”

  “Elliot,” she gasps. “It hurts. It fucking hurts.”

  A tinge of relief hits me when
she says my name. She’s still here.

  Paige

  Wave after wave of contractions take over my body as I’m ushered into the delivery suite. I hold on to Elliot for dear life. He’s keeping me grounded and in the moment. I refuse to slip away. I refuse.

  The midwife informs us that the doctor should be in shortly to check on my progress, but she wants to check me over first. She presses her hands over my stomach, trying to feel which way the baby is lying.

  “Are you getting a lot of back pain?”

  I nod. “Yes. It feels like my contraction pain is radiating out of my spine.” I’m grimacing as I feel the start of another one.

  “The baby’s posterior.”

  “What? What does that even mean?” Elliot interrupts, worry etched in his face.

  “Everything’s fine. It just means her pain is more concentrated. I’d offer you something for the pain, Paige—”

  “No. No drugs,” I gasp.

  “OK. I don’t think we’ll have time, anyway. You’re already grunting so the baby is probably coming soon OK?”

  I nod quickly, trying desperately to breathe through the pain as it overwhelms my body. I roll onto my knees, trying to ease the pain in my back and scrunch my eyes closed, crying.

  “You’re doing so well, Paige. Keep breathing for me. Can you look at me?”

  I shake my head and whimper as Elliot rubs my back. “Then keep listening to my voice. Can you do that?” I nod. My counsellor told me the best way to avoid triggering the return of my symptoms is to stay present and clear-headed. If I lose myself to the pain, my brain could be an arsehole and give me flashbacks to Phoenix’s birth. I don’t want to get lost in that misery again. I want to be here in this new world where I have love and I'm starting a family. I need to be here to welcome my baby. I need to stay. Focus, Paige.

  Elliot continues to coo at me softly, telling me I’m doing great. “It just hurts so much, Elliot. Where are the endorphins your body is supposed to produce? The books said there’d be endorphins to take the pain away.” I cry when a contraction starts again, squeezing his hand. “Oh god!” I grunt as my body bears down of its own accord. “Elli-oooooooooot!”

  “Breathe, Paige, breathe as you push, we’re not far now,” the midwife coaches.

  Panting, I try to catch my breath before another contraction comes. I can’t believe how fast this is all happening.

  “She’s pushing? Shouldn’t she be on her back or something? She can’t give birth on all fours can she?” Elliot asks the midwife frantically.

  “It’s fine, Dad. Just let nature take its course,” she soothes, turning back to me. “Now Paige, when the baby’s head is just about out, you’ll feel a burn. I want you to try not to push when that's happening, give your body time to stretch, so you don’t tear, OK?”

  I nod, feeling like I'm a torture recipient. I’m so angry at nature right now. Why does this have to hurt so much?

  Elliot

  My eyes grow wide as Paige bears down and I see the baby’s head crowning. “Oh my god, Paige. I can see the baby. You’re doing it!”

  She screams out, and I cheer her on, maintaining my hold on her hand as I watch our baby emerge from her body. “Elliot,” she cries, her voice like sandpaper as she fights with her body and her pain.

  “You’re so strong, Paige. We’re almost there. It’s almost over.”

  “Breathe through the burn, Paige,” the midwife coaches, preparing herself for the birth of our child.

  “I can’t breathe. I can’t stop pushing!” Paige yells, grunting and groaning as she bears down again. Our baby’s head pops out, closely followed by her body.

  I can hardly breathe, watching that little scrunched-up face as it gurgles out a loud cry is the most precious moment of my life. “She’s here, Paige. Our baby girl is here!”

  “Let me see.” I help her roll over so the midwife can place the baby on her stomach. “Oh Elliot,” she breathes. “She’s beautiful, look at her. Look at our daughter.” I touch the face of our screaming little bundle and kiss Paige happily.

  “And look at you. You were magnificent.”

  “Would you like to cut the cord?” The midwife asks me, holding out a pair of surgical scissors. I nod, taking them from her before I work them to cut the cord that connected mother and baby for nearly nine months.

  The door to the delivery suite opens, and the doctor walks in. He takes a couple of steps and freezes. “Oh, guess I’m a bit late,” he comments.

  “Yes, this one couldn’t wait to meet her parents,” the midwife says.

  “Well congratulations,” he says, moving over to the midwife to talk quietly with her for a moment about the delivery and Paige’s perceived health before congratulating us again and leaving.

  Paige

  Staring down at the child in my arms, I’m so overwhelmed with love that the pain of the delivery seems like a distant memory. Our midwife is helping me as I try to latch the baby onto my breast for her first feeding. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be and hurts a little when the baby suckles before she has her mouth open properly.

  “So do you have a name for her?” she asks when she’s sure the baby is attached properly.

  Elliot and I look at each other and smile. We had thought long and hard about what our baby’s name will be. We wanted it to be representative of the second chance at life and love we were all getting. “Grace,” I say, running my finger over her tiny cheek. “Her name is Grace.”

  “Grace Roberts,” Elliot puts in.

  I look at him and laugh. “Who says she gets your last name?”

  “It will be your last name too,” he says as a matter of fact.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he says, wrapping his arms gently around both me, and our daughter as she feeds contentedly in my arms. He lowers his head and looks me in the eyes, a serious expression on his face. “Paige Larsen, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  Tears spill from my eyes as I nod my head frantically. “Of course I will, Elliot,” I gasp. “Of course I will.”

  He steps away from the bed and searches through my bag for a moment, returning with a small black ring box. He sits beside me and opens it, revealing a beautiful ring with a gold band that overlaps itself in two swirls around a single diamond suspended between the metal. I hold my shaking hand out as he places it on my finger, admiring it as it catches the light.

  He leans in and kisses me, resting his other hand gently on our daughter’s tiny head. “I love you, Paige. Thank you so much for letting me into your heart and giving me a daughter.”

  “I love you too. But, we made her together. She’s a gift for the both of us. And I think she’s the reason I’m still here.”

  “You’re the reason, you’re here, Paige. Your strength and determination are your greatest characteristics. I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

  As I take a moment to breathe in and absorb our little family, I can’t help but decide that I’m proud of me too. I have love. I have hope. I’m still here.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Elliot

  The delicate guitar intro to Jason Mraz’s I Won’t Give Up plays over the speakers set up either side of the flower-covered archway. My heart picks up, excited, nervous. This is the day I’ve been waiting for.

  Fond and friendly faces look around, seated in chairs lined up either side of a bottle-blue strip of carpet. Low gasps go up as Naomi steps up with Grace in her arms. Pictures are taken while petals are thrown, and my beautiful girl gurgles and coos. The perfect little flower girl.

  Paige’s foot touches the carpet just as the first chorus lifts the tone of our perfect song. We will never give up on each other. Tears fill my eyes when they meet hers, and she’s smiling. She’s so stunning in a simple lace dress that perfectly suits our garden setting. It’s cut high in the front and low in the back, proudly displaying her phoenix tattoo and the memory of a life she beat to get here. She’s co
me so far in the year since I first met her, and I find her more amazing with every passing day. I can't wait to officially call her my wife.

  With our eyes on each other, she makes her way up the aisle, sparing a glance here and there for our audience. In the short time we’ve lived here, we’ve amassed quite a support system. Our English friends are here for us, along with a handful of friends and family from Australia. Our gathering is small and intimate. The perfect nuptials for our deeply private relationship. All that matters is our baby and each other.

  Reaching out her hand, Paige places it on Grace's chest, making a happy face at our daughter as she gives Naomi her flowers. She’s a natural mother. Caring and compassionate. I love the joy our baby girl has brought into our life, and I’m so proud of Paige for working so hard on being the mother she can be. I take a mental picture of mother and daughter and hope to god someone else is taking an actual photo. I need that on the wall at home.

  Just get over here and marry me already. I have to stop myself from grabbing her in my impatience. If I could have married her in the delivery room when I proposed, I would have. I want her to be mine in body and in name, and I don’t care how that happens. But for Paige, this ceremony is extra important. It’s something she never thought she’d experience, it’s another momentous step in what she likes to refer to as her rebirth. She’s shedding her old skin and becoming someone new. Someone who accepts the love she’s offered and is able to give love in return. Someone she couldn’t imagine being twelve months ago.

  When she turns to me, my chest about explodes. I love her more than words. This is it. We’re getting married in five, four, three, two…