She looks up at me and the look of love in her eyes is nearly my undoing. “All of that is over. It’s in the past.”
“You’re so quick to forgive all the ways I’ve mistreated you.” It feels like I should be punished for all the wrong I’ve committed against Rose and Gus. How did I ever think I could live without them?
“What would I accomplish by hanging on to something you’ve already asked me to forgive?”
“I feel so guilty. And selfish. And like a coward.” Gus was an innocent baby I wanted to do away with because his existence didn’t fit into my plan. Rose was so right. “I couldn’t comprehend then how much I was going to love him.”
“It was a little different for me because he was inside me. I felt him. I knew he was there but you disconnected from him so early on that you had to actually meet him to know.”
Nothing about turning my back on Gus is okay. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it. The only thing I can do is try to make up for it. Be there for him, and Rose, every step of this long, difficult journey we have ahead of us.
I’m ready to begin making things right. “We haven’t discussed your living arrangements since you told me you were moving out.”
“There’s been so much going on with Gus that I haven’t really given it a lot of thought.”
“I have and I want you to come home with me. It’s the only place you belong. And when it’s time for Gus to leave the hospital, he’s coming to our home too. I want to raise him there. Together. He’s going to need both of us.”
She isn’t saying anything. Or reacting. “How do you feel about that?”
“You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be with you and raise our son together.”
First we were companions. Then best friends and lovers. But now? Now we’re parents. And I still want so much more with Rose.
I want her to be my wife. On paper in addition to my heart. My Mrs. Pascal. I’m ready to commit to our lives together. Our future.
She deserves the perfect ring on the perfect night with the perfect proposal.
And that’s what I’m going to give her.
Epilogue
__________________________________
Bastien Pascal
–
“Gus. Sit down, son, before you fall.” I wrap my arm around his midsection but my grip is weak. There isn’t a worse combination when you’re holding an energetic two-and-a-half-year-old.
I can’t believe how far he’s come from being that tiny little one-pound newborn. Lung issues. Minor brain bleeds. That didn’t feel so minor at the time. Sleep apnea. Gastrointestinal problems. Despite the countless complications in the earlier part of his life, he dodged a lot of bullets.
Doesn’t matter what long-term hurdles he faces in the future. He is perfect to us just as he is.
He’s so much like me as a child. Rough. Rowdy. Rambunctious. All of those R words that describe little boys. This kid is in overdrive all the time. And there’s never a time when I’m not afraid my arms will give out and I’ll drop him. I’m terrified I’ll be the one to cause him harm.
“Down, Doddy.” Doddy—I’m grateful every time that comes out of my son’s mouth but I’m not sure I’ll ever feel worthy of being called his daddy. How can I after spending months telling Rose I didn’t want him?
My wife tells me all the time that I have to let it go. It’s in the past and I have to forgive myself. I hope I can one day. I don’t want the burden of carrying this guilt the rest of my life, no matter how long or short that may be.
Gus grips my pants and uses them to safely lower himself down my legs. He’s a cyclone, spinning like Taz, The Tasmanian Devil, the minute his feet hit the floor. Or at least that’s what it feels like when you’re the one in charge of watching him and your mobility isn’t what it used to be.
Of course he runs toward the kitchen where Rose is. I’m not doing a great job of keeping him out of her hair while she cooks Christmas dinner. “Gus man. Come back in here and play with the new toys Papa Noël brought you.”
Rose comes into the living room, our son wrapped around her hip. “It’s okay. I just put the turkey breast in the oven. I was about to take a break for a minute anyway.”
I don’t like her standing on her feet for long periods of time. “You need to break at least once an hour and put your feet up for ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Good grief, Bash. I won’t ever finish cooking the meal if I take those kinds of breaks.”
She wants so desperately to cook Christmas dinner for me just like my mom did. It’s such a thoughtful gesture but maybe it would be better to tackle when she isn’t pregnant and so close to her due date. “I wish you’d let me help.”
“I want to do everything by myself this year. Show you all the things I’ve learned in Bastien’s Cajun kitchen the last few years.”
I already know what a great culinary student she is. There’s nothing to prove. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”
Gus slides off her hip, down her leg and takes off toward his collection of new toys on the floor. She moves her hands to her lower back and bows backward slightly. She looks so cute standing there in her cherry print apron. She still honors my mother by wearing it. Cooking our family recipes.
“Are you hurting?”
“I’m fine. You have to get over this fear. The doctors said the abruption was random with Gus. The odds of it happening again are slim to none.”
Rose doesn’t understand how helpless I feel. We’re two years further down the ALS road with this pregnancy. The last three months have been especially bad. My body has begun to fail me. If she has complications, I can’t lift and carry her to the car like I did when she was bleeding with Gus. “I won’t be at ease until this baby is safely here in our arms.”
“Stop worrying. Marie-Grace is going to be fine.”
I’m still in awe of this woman for wanting to honor my mother, a woman she never met, by naming our daughter after her. “Come here. I want to feel MG move.”
Rose comes to me and stands next to my wheelchair so I press the side of my face against her belly. It’s only a few seconds before I feel our baby girl in motion. “She’s been active today?”
“Been having a dance party in there all morning.”
“I like it when she’s active. Reassures me that everything is going as it should be.”
Rose pushes her fingers into my hair and rubs my scalp. “Always the worrier.”
I’ve been too careless with the value of life. First, my own and then my son’s. I won’t make that mistake ever again. Although I expected it to be hard for Rose to forgive me, for us to get back to how comfortable and in love we were just after Hawaii, spending those weeks and months together at the hospital with Gus cemented our love. When she allowed me to place my mother’s ring back onto her finger, I knew our love was permanent. Safe. She held me. She loved me. She was grace. My steadfast rock. And she is still today. So much so, that I can’t help worrying about her now. “I worry because you and Gus and Marie-Grace are my world.”
“I know, Bash. It’s evident in everything you say and do.”
***
I awaken to Rose shaking my shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll turn over.”
“I’m not waking you up because you’re snoring.”
My eyes pop open and I lift my head. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“Telling me to not freak out makes me freak out.”
“I just felt a gush. I’m pretty sure my water broke.”
I hear the word gush and broke and have flashbacks. Seeing the woman you love lying in an enormous pool of blood is a sight you never get out of your head. “I knew you shouldn’t have been standing in that kitchen all day cooking.”
“I’m okay. She’s okay. But I need to get up and make sure that’s what it is before we go barreling down to the hospital to be told she moved and pressed pee out of my bladder.”
&nbs
p; “Are you having pain?”
“No. I’m just super wet.”
I haven’t driven in three months. Not since the muscle weakness worsened. “We’ll need to call Vale to drive us.”
“Don’t do it just yet. Let me go to the bathroom first and make sure that’s what’s happening.”
She strains to get out of bed and grunts. “Oh, that’s definitely not pee. I have no control over what’s flowing out down there.”
“Then baby girl is coming tonight?”
“I’m pretty positive.”
I use the remote to lift the head of my side of the bed so I can start trying to get out. That doesn’t happen easily these days.
Rose gets out of bed and waddles around to my side. “Stop, Bash. Let me help you.”
She’s about to give birth, and she’s concerning herself with me. Of course. “I’m slow but I can manage. You and the baby are the important ones. Do what needs to be done for you first.”
She’s hurting. I see the pain in her expression. And she’s lying to me about it; she doesn’t want me to panic.
“You always say I’m the worrier. I think you’re the real worrier.” I smile so she doesn’t realize that I know her secret. I’ll let her keep believing she’s fooling me. “I’ll be fine. Slow, but fine. Tend to you so we can go to the hospital and get MG.”
I hate everything about this. It’s not how this should be. My wife is about to give birth. She shouldn’t be standing here forced to care for me instead of herself and our unborn child. “Go, Rose. See to yourself.”
“Okay, but let me grab some clothes for you first. You can be working on changing into those while I get ready.”
Rose goes into my closet and calls out. “Black athletic pants with a T-shirt and jacket?”
“That’ll be fine.” The fact that I’m wearing something called an athletic suit when I can barely stand on my own is a joke. My recent wardrobe is comparable to that of a pregnant woman. Stretchy and elastic. Jeans have become nearly impossible and the struggle of getting into and out of trousers isn’t worth the hassle.
She tosses my clothes on the bed. “I’ll hurry.”
I chuckle when she leans down to kiss my mouth. “Yeah. Like that’s a possibility, Mrs. Pascal. You’re about as slow as your husband these days.”
She puts her hand on top of my head and ruffles my hair. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Mr. P.”
“I’ll be performing here all week.”
“Can you call Vale while I get ready?”
I reach for my phone on the bedside table. “On it.”
“Since it’s so late, should I call Genevieve to come stay with Gus? I hate to get him out of bed.”
I don’t want to leave our little man here. “I wanted him to be at the hospital to meet his sister.”
“That would be fine if it weren’t approaching midnight.”
Rose is right. No two-year-old needs to be pulled out of bed in the middle of the night. “She can bring him to the hospital as soon as he wakes up in the morning.”
Rose grabs her phone from the bedside table. “We’re assuming she can come. I better make sure before we make arrangements with Vale.”
“Vale will do whatever we need her to.” She has never let Rose or me down. Not once. And I know she wouldn’t miss the birth of our next little angel for anything in the world.
Rose gives me a thumbs up as she speaks to Genevieve so I phone V. “Only one reason you’d be calling me this late on Christmas night.”
“Water broke.”
“I figured something like that would happen after she stood on her feet working all day.”
“I told her to take it easy, but you know my wife. She does what she wants.”
“I’m still dressed. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“We’ll be ready to roll.”
I change my shirt first since its easiest and work on my pants next. Yes, this process moves quicker and easier with Rose’s assistance but she comes first.
She’s quiet. I don’t like it. I need her to keep talking to me so I know she’s all right. “Do you think we’ll have a Christmas baby?”
“Maybe. If she’s not here before twelve, I bet it won’t be long after midnight.”
Marie-Grace will be delivered by repeat C-section. We won’t have the hours of waiting during labor and delivery the natural way. They told us this surgery would be different than her delivery with Gus. She can stay awake and I can go into the OR with her. I doubt there is anything more amazing than being there when my daughter is born.
“Do we want that? For her birthday to be on Christmas? Seems like her special day will always be downplayed.”
“Doesn’t matter whether we want it or not. She’s coming.”
I manage to get into my pants and prepare to transfer to my wheelchair. Thank God I’m still able to do that much for myself. I’m not ready to hire a full-time caregiver. I want our life to stay just like this. As normal as possible. Just our little family of four in our home for as long as it’s feasible.
“Are you doing okay in there?”
“Brushin’ teef.” Her voice is muffled and I adore the way “teeth” comes out as “teef.” Reminds me of how Gus jabbers.
Rose is grimacing, eyes shut, and breathing deeply when I wheel into the bathroom. Vale needs to get here now. “Breathe in and out slow and deep, baby.”
She gives in to the pain and leans over to brace herself on the bathroom countertop. “I should have known there was no fooling you.”
“Not even for a minute.”
V arrives and Rose sneaks into Gus’s bedroom to see him before we go. “Gussy, we’re going to get Marie-Grace.” She leans down and kisses the top of his forehead. “I love you, sweet boy.”
She rubs his back in a circular motion and wipes a tear from her cheek. “It feels wrong to leave him here but I know we have to.”
“We’ll see him first thing in the morning. Less than twelve hours.”
“We’ll be a family of four next time we see our little peanut. Can you believe that?”
“It’s one of the most surreal moments in my life.”
***
A nurse rolls my wheelchair to the door of the OR and then assists me to a stool placed next to Rose’s head. I can’t believe this is it. We will soon get to meet our daughter.
Rose is lying on a surgical table covered with blue drapes, her arms spread wide and secured to arm boards. The room is freezing cold, the lights bright. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering. She looks miserable. Not a reassuring sight.
I stroke my hand over the top of her head the way I used to after a nightmare. “Are you okay?”
She nods but I know better. She’s scared to death. Understandably. “You’re doing great, baby girl.”
Rose smiles. “I’m not going to be your baby girl anymore after Marie-Grace gets here.”
“You will always be my baby girl.” That brings a huge smile to her face.
Rose’s doctor calls out, “Just made the uterine incision. Won’t be long now.”
I stroke the top of her head. “Only a few more minutes and we finally get to meet her.”
The room immediately fills with the sound of loud suctioning. “She has a pretty little face. Let’s see what the rest of her looks like.”
Oh God. This is it. Our little girl is about to make her entrance into this world. On Christmas night.
A high-pitched cry fills the room. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“What’s this beautiful girl’s name?”
“Marie-Grace.”
The doctor lifts her above the blue drape so we can have our first look. “Mr. and Mrs. Pascal, meet your daughter. Marie-Grace, here are your parents.”
She squints and screams, completely pissed off that she was stolen from her warm, quiet, and safe cocoon. “Omigod, Bash. Look at that face. She’s beautiful.”
“She’s so different from Gus. I can’t believe how hug
e she is.”
A nurse comes to take MG from the doctor and places her on Rose’s chest. She strokes her hand over the top of her head. “Hello, my sweet darling girl. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
The nurse wipes her off and covers her head with a beanie before tucking her inside Rose’s hospital gown so they’re skin to skin. “I didn’t get to do any of this with Gus.”
My precious Rose woke up in the recovery room and was told our son might or might not live. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.
“I can’t believe how much hair she has. Gus didn’t have more than three strands until he was six months old.”
Our boy has a headful of thick, nearly black hair now. “He has certainly made up for not having any for the first part of his life.”
Marie-Grace squirms on Rose’s chest, her mouth opening and rooting against her skin. Rooting. I learned that word this time around since Gus was fed by a feeding tube.
Rose’s pregnancy and Marie-Grace’s birth have been so different from when Gus was born. Picture perfect in every way. I’m equally delighted to have her and sad she’ll be our last. Although I realize the blessing and miracle that she is, I would have loved to have had at least one more child.
“Thank you, Rose. Thank you for being my world.” I don’t get all of my words out before blurry eyes accompany tightness in my throat. “Thank you for our beautiful, healthy, perfect-to-us children whom I love with all of my heart. Thank you for giving me a reason to live.”
How was I to know that this girl, whom I only wanted to share a companionship with, would become my guardian angel? My lifesaver. The life preserver in the sea where I hadn’t realized I was drowning in the deepest and darkest waters.
Tears roll down the sides of her face into her hair. “I could never give up on you. Never will.”
Life is precious. I had no appreciation for it before Rose. But then again, I didn’t appreciate a lot of things before she became the light in my frequently dim world.
Dear Agony Page 24