“You did?”
“You inspired something in me to write one, and…it felt really good.”
“That’s good,” I encourage. “I think it can be good to write when you need to.”
“You know, it came from this silly little idea we sort of came up with after we lost her, and it carried us all this time without us knowing,” he muses. The way he acknowledges our little Baby Girl Bean causes my heart to swell. She doesn’t need to exist only in secret whispers and unspoken words. We can remember her openly. We can talk about her, grieve her, and love her the way we’re meant to while learning how to move on.
“It’s almost like the answer to all our problems was there the whole time, and we never bothered to look or even notice.”
His face softens into a smile, and we kiss. It’s tender, all the bits of soft and gentle we’ve been missing out on. “I wish I knew all this. I wish I hadn’t gone so long being so…lost. I wish I’d figured my shit out sooner.”
“I had to figure my shit out too,” I tell him. “I’mstillfiguring my shit out.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He runs his hand over my back, under the jacket where I can feel the warm pads of his fingers against my spine. “Do you think a part of why you haven’t gotten over losing her is because…you had to watch her…”
He doesn’t finish his question, and I don’t need him to. I get it, the question burning a hole in his thoughts. He’s saying the words cautiously. Curiosity’s gotten the best of him, and he wants to know, consequences be damned. And I love that this new leaf has turned over for us. He’s asking me all the difficult questions with the care and heed I still need, and I realize how much I want him to ask me these things.
“I—”
“Sorry,” he interrupts. “I just…I need to know. I need to understand.”
“I know,” I assure, “and I’m not mad you’re asking me.”
He offers an encouraging smile. Another gentle squeeze.
“I honestly don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I think I’m still working through what happened. And the trauma of it all hasn’t helped.”
“That’s understandable.”
“And those memories of holding her in my arms eventually turned into guilt,” I continue. “And that was much easier to work through.”
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he urges. “There’s nothing you could’ve done wrong.”
“We don’t know that,” I start to argue.
“I do though. The doctors even said there was nothing you could’ve done differently. We?—”
“I wished for it to go away.”
He stares at me blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I was so scared, and I thought there was no way I could be a mom. And we’d barely just met. I hardly knew you. I wanted it all to go away. I hoped and prayed I would lose her. And then wedidlose her, and…I felt like the worst person in the world.”
“You know that’s not why it happened.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. Tears make my vision misty, and it feels like all the dark, ugly parts of me are splayed out for the first time in nine years.
“No, baby, it does matter.” He cups my face in his hands, forcing his eyes to mine. “You can’t live life thinking you did this. We weren’t ready to be parents. Far from it. And you were scared. That’s all.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“We need you.” His words stop me. I’ve never heard him say anything like this. “Me and Sophia, we need you. I mean,obviously Sophia needs you. You’re her mom, but me…” He pauses, trying to figure out how he’s going to tell me what he wants to say. And I realize it’s because his next words are the most honest, rawest declaration he’s ever going to make. “I don’t know how to put this lightly, so I’m going to lay it down like it weighs as much as it feels. Icanlive without you only because Ihaveto. I have Sophia so Iwilllive without you if that’s the only choice I have. But I don’twantto, not even a little bit. I have absolutely zero interest in living a life without you. So, whatever it takes to figure this out, we’ll do it. I know I haven’t always made it easy, and there have been times when you felt like my love had conditions, and I’m sorry you felt that way. That’s on me. But I’m here to clear the air. There are no conditions. So, whatever you need, I’m here.”
I’ve always felt like my grief made me insufferable. Too difficult or too sensitive and emotional. Too much to deal with. So, I hide it, or at least I try to, and all it’s done is teach me how to suppress a lot of my own emotions. I put a smile on so people don’t see the cloud hanging over my head. I laugh and engage even though it’s the last thing I want to be doing. Because the burden of feeling so dejected and somber is a lot to put on someone. I know because I’ve watched James carry so much of it for years. I always thought he resented me for it, but he’s here refuting every single self-loathing thought that’s crossed through my mind.
