He nods again, and I look back at the note. I take in a big lungful of air. “There are times at night when I’m laying by myself thinking about you that I swear I can smell you. You were special, baby girl. There was something about you that stood out amongst the rest. I really wanted to give you the world. The short time that I was blessed to have you wasn’t enough. I’m desperate to be your mother, and I don’t think that need will ever fade.”
I drop the paper, my chest aching. I take the palm of my hand and rub rough circles into the area right by my heart. I feel Cooper’s eyes on me as a surge of pain rips through me. I know he can sense my desperate yearning to have her back. My body shakes and my head pounds with grief as I stare at him. “I’m so sorry, Kayla. I’m so sorry that my body didn’t take care of you the way you needed it to. I’m so sorry that I let you down, that I betrayed you, that something inside me wasn’t enough to keep you healthy. I would do anything to see you grow up into the beautiful woman you were supposed to be. I’m sorry you’ll miss everything life has to offer and you’ll never experience the sweet taste of growing up.”
I close my eyes. Guilt pours out of me like raindrops from a cloud. I don’t stop. I need to finish, I need to release all my thoughts to her. “Even with all the regret and guilt, I’ll never be sorry for the time I got to spend with you. Those few hours are something I’ll hold in my heart forever. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t replay what it felt like to hold you. Not a day that my memory doesn’t relive the way your skin felt or the way you smelled. I’ll never be able to tell you good-bye because in my heart, you’re alive. My soul can’t let you go. It doesn’t know how to. I’ve disappointed you at every turn, baby girl, and I wish with everything in me I could go back and undo things. Just know that I love you. I love you with all that I am and all that I could be. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. There’s so much we missed, so much that will haunt me. Please, know that I would give my life for you.”
I sag against Cooper and lay my head on his shoulder. What I said was not nearly enough. There are no words for how I feel, but I pray that somewhere out there, my daughter can see inside my heart and know how sorry I am and that I would do and give anything for her. I try to take some kind of solace in thinking that she’s in a better place. I force myself to think that. If I don’t, I’ll go insane.
“Hey,” Cooper whispers, trying to get my attention.
I pull back and look at him, my body slumped and defeated.
“What you said was beautiful, baby,” he says.
I give him a weak smile, not really feeling it, and wipe my hand across my cheek. “I miss her. I miss her so badly. I wish I could do something, but she’s gone.” I turn my head and look at her tombstone.
“She’s not gone,” he says, his voice delicate and reassuring. “She’ll always be a part of who we are. You were the best mother to her while we were blessed to have her. You know that, right? You did a good job taking care of her. There was nothing you could’ve done differently. Not one thing.”
I wince. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have felt her distress.”
“How? There’s no way you could’ve known. It was out of your hands.”
“I hate that,” I admit, tipping my head down. “I hate that she died inside of me and I didn’t know. What kind of person does that make me?”
“It has no impact on who you are and what kind of mother you were and are going to be.”
I look at him and watch his eyes drop to my pregnant belly.
He places a gentle hand over our baby and smiles. “Our second chance is right here. Do you hear me? This is our second chance. You did everything you could for Kayla.”
“I’m so scared,” I whisper, my throat tightening as fear steamrolls through me. “What if it happens again?”
“Stop,” he says, his eyes flaring. “We’re both scared, but I have faith. Don’t you think Kayla’s watching over us?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.” I move my eyes to the sky.
“No, baby, no hoping.” He grabs my hand, urging my gaze back to his. “I know so. I can feel her, Kylie. I can feel her around us.”
He’s so passionate, so confident. I love him deeply, and I feel as though I owe him another apology. He had to lay her to rest all by himself.
“I’m so sorry, Cooper. I’m sorry you had to do this by yourself. That you had to come out here by yourself.”
He sighs as he tips his head back and closes his eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It was hard. I wanted you here so badly so we could hold each other through it. I should have been a better husband. I should have delayed the funeral until you were ready.” He looks at me, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t support you the way I should have.”
I nod and look at the clouds that are clearing. “Why do you think he took her from us?” The question slips past my lips before I can stop it. I often wonder why God stole her from us before we even had a minute with her.
“I don’t think he took her from us,” he says.
I turn to look at him, not sure I just heard what I think I did. “What?”
“I don’t think he took her from us. I’ve… I’ve spent so much time thinking about why we didn’t get to watch Kayla grow up, what we did or didn’t do to earn this sick twist of fate, and I come back to one thing.” I search his face as he opens his eyes and looks at me. “I think she was sent to us for a reason, and her life was meant to be short.”
I flinch as if he’s hit me. How could her life have been meant to be short? I refuse to accept that. She was my child, and she deserved a full life. She was cheated. She didn’t even get to take a breath. My body burns with anger.
“Wait,” he whispers, grabbing my face. “Give me a chance to explain. I love you and I love her with everything in me, Kylie. Just listen.”
I bite my lip, drawing blood, and nod for him to continue, using everything in me to suppress my anger at his words.
“Sometimes, God puts people or situations in our lives for a reason,” he says. “I truly believe that. I think we all go through struggles or heartaches because there are lessons in them. Sometimes those heartaches change lives. Most of the time we don’t understand the whys behind them. Why me? Why her? Why us? It leaves us angry and hurt. Losing Kayla killed me, Kylie. It was the worst experience of my life. I felt like I died when I took her out of your arms. I hated myself for not being able to fix it, but these last months, being with you and watching your belly grow, feeling that new life inside you, have helped me find some peace. I don’t know why her time was short. I have to believe there was a reason behind it. That God had a reason and purpose for taking her from us.”
“And what? What could possibly be the reason, Cooper?” My voice is high as I scramble off his lap to stand. I don’t want to accept that she was only meant to be here a short time. I need someone or something to blame.
“I think she was meant to teach us about love. I feel like she’s taught us that real love pulls through in the toughest times. It doesn’t give up. It heals wounds. I think we thought our relationship was perfect before Kayla. We had no clue what a hardship was. We didn’t love each other the way we were supposed to. We were selfish, self-involved, and maybe, just maybe, Kayla’s purpose was to teach us unconditional love. Maybe she was sent to grow us up and open our eyes. I don’t know, but through her death, I’ve learned so much and so have you.”
My body trembles as his words rip through me. They cause me pain, but they also wrap around my heart. Maybe she did serve her purpose. Maybe she taught us what she was supposed to and then flew to heaven like the angel she is. I’ll never know. “What has her death taught me, Cooper?” Tears stain my cheeks as he walks over to me. I need him to tell me something that gives me peace.
I need to make sense of this in my head.
“We’ve both learned that love is not perfect.” He puts his hands around my waist and pulls me as close
to him as my pregnant belly will allow. “It doesn’t come in pretty packages. Sometimes it dents and bruises and does things it regrets, but it also forgives, shows mercy, and supports. It soothes and fights to the death. We lost her, but we’ll always carry her in our hearts. She hasn’t left us, baby. She came and went, and in the process, she left her permanent mark. Our love for her is unconditional; it’s pure and flawless. In the short amount of time, we were blessed to have her, we experienced a perfect love.”
“I want her life to have purpose. I want her to have had a chance,” I whisper.
“Her life did have purpose. She is more than her death, Kylie. She is more than this.” He gestures around us. “This is not our Kayla. She’s here, but she’s not. She’s our little girl, and she was given to us for a reason. We have to find and accept that reason. We have to pull something positive out of the small amount of time we had with her. We’re letting her death overshadow the life she brought into our lives. We’re letting the darkness put out the light she gave us.”
“How?” My voice is barely audible as my heart breaks again. “How do we do that when we didn’t get enough time with her?”
“There would never have been a day, a moment when we would’ve felt like we had enough time with her. Never. A parent isn’t supposed to bury their child. It would have been just as excruciating whether we’d had a year or twenty years with her. No amount of time would have brought us peace. We have to honor her. We have to learn to focus on more than her death. She was alive for months before she died. Don’t you remember hearing her first heartbeat? The first time we saw her on the sonogram screen? The first time we felt her little foot or arm move?” His face lights up as he recalls our time with Kayla. “How many laughs did she bring us when a little part of her poked out of your stomach? Think, Kylie, think of the good times. Do you remember the way you laughed at my poor attempt at singing? But it didn’t matter because she was my child and I wanted her to know that daddy loved her. That even though she was being carried by you, I was walking right next to her the whole time, waiting with open arms. There’s good in the bad. What happened was bad, but that, my love, was not Kayla. Focusing on all the pain is destroying our memories of her.”
Tears stream down my face, hitting the palms of his hands as words tumble from my lips. “You’re right. God, you’re right. It’s just so hard. I feel like I need her, and I don’t know how to shut that off. I don’t know how to make that desperate longing go away.”
He pulls me into his chest. “You can’t stop that, baby. Maybe it’ll go away, maybe it’ll lessen as time goes by and you’re able to see the good that she brought us instead of all the pain.”
“I just love her, Cooper. I love her,” I cry.
“I know you do, baby, and she knows that too.”
“I want to feel the good. I’m so sick of all the hurt, of all the pain. I’m sick of feeling sad all the time. I want to be able to think of her and smile. I want her memories to bring me joy and not heartache. I want to be able to embrace all the things we got to experience with her. I want to honor her.” My words come out desperate. I want to show my daughter that I remember the good. I remember reading to her and feeling her move as though she was listening. I remember putting headphones over my belly and feeling her dancing in there.
“It’ll always hurt, Kylie. It’ll always feel like we were shorted. We need to give her a place in our heart that’s not just a memory of pain. She changed us, and she brought us so much joy. I want that as her memory, not this.” He gazes at me, his green eyes glistening. “I’m so proud of you. I know coming out here wasn’t easy for you and you had to force yourself to do it, but it needed to be done before you brought this precious new life into the world.” His hands splay across my belly, and the baby gives him a little kick. He smiles. “Kayla is never gone. She’ll always be with us, and she’ll live on not only in us, but in this baby. We need to let go. She taught us what she needed to and then went home. We don’t know why, but it’s time to accept that even though it hurts like hell. She deserves to be remembered for the happiness she brought us.”
Words… Words are powerful things.
They can be damning or beautiful to a human spirit. They can lift a person to heights they never believed possible or send them crashing to the ground in a heartbeat. Words can destroy or heal. And what Cooper just told me reverberates through my spirit and touches me deeply. Everything he’s spoken from his heart opens an awareness inside me.
Maybe I’ll never be able to let go fully, but I can make a conscious choice to love my child in a way that is not bathed in pain. I can focus on the good, joyful memories I have of her. There aren’t many and that will always kill me, but I can do that for her. I close my eyes, letting my body relax. My heart reaches for her. It’ll always reach for her.
I feel my lips move as words trail out of my mouth. “I love you, Kayla. I love you more than anything in the world. Thank you for blessing my life. For giving me the gift of motherhood. This is not good-bye; this is hello. Your mommy is sorry for everything, but she’s also thankful for all the things you’ve given me. You are so loved. God, you are so loved.”
Cooper surrounds me as I break down in tears, but this time, the tears feel different. Every tear cleanses a little of the hurt. I feel lighter as I look to the future and remember the past. I feel a swift, hard kick, and my hand automatically goes to the source. My palm glides against the little body part skating across my belly, and I know that Cooper is right. He is so right!
Kayla will live on in us and this child.
Two months later…
The lights are dimmed in the nursery. I stand with both hands braced on the crib. For the past forty minutes, I’ve been having contractions in consistent ten-minute intervals. I’m not sure why, but once I felt the first one, I knew it was time. I slipped out of bed and called the doctor. He told me to wait until the contractions were stronger and closer together, so I found myself in here. I guess I needed time before I woke Cooper. I needed a moment to digest what’s happening.
I’m about to meet my second child. My baby…
I stare at the crib lined in white cotton bedding. I’m scared. No, not just scared. I’m terrified. I’m trying to fight through that fear, but I keep seeing myself coming home without a baby. The thought plays on a loop in my head. I’ve made peace with Kayla’s death, but that doesn’t take away the fear that something can go wrong. I touch the soft cotton blanket and force out the insidious thoughts. They’re nothing but destructive.
I swallow hard and turn around, trying to distract myself by looking at the nursery I’ve put my heart and soul into. Everything’s ready. Diapers are stacked neatly under the changing table, the walls are painted, pictures are hung, and soft toys stick out of wicker baskets. Clothes have been arranged in straight rows inside the armoire, and stuffed animals are scattered in precise places. It’s a baby’s paradise. Now all we need is a baby.
Our baby.
I’ve had months to prepare, to plan, and suddenly I feel unsure, almost unready. I don’t know why. Maybe its fear, the apprehension about what’s going to happen… Panic sets in as a thought floats tauntingly through my head.
Are we both going to make it out of this okay?
I close my eyes and push it away as a surge of pain hits my stomach. The way the muscles bunch and clench makes me want to hold my breath. With the pain intensifying, I count, trying to redirect my thoughts from the searing discomfort in my hips and abdomen. By the time I get to thirty, I feel the contraction ebb. I release the breath I unknowingly held.
I take a couple cleansing breaths and move to the chenille rocker in the corner by a white bookshelf. I sit down and lean my head back, closing my eyes. I feel as though I should be in a rush to wake Cooper, to get things going, but I’m not. I want a minute with this baby in case something goes wrong. I want to talk to my child before all the crazy begins.
“Hey, precious,” I croon, looking at my stoma
ch. “You hanging in there? It’s almost time for your grand entrance.” I smile, but it’s weak. “You better cry for me. I need that, okay?” A little arm or foot nudges my hand. “Good, that’s what momma wants. I want you to let me have it all. Don’t hold back.” I swallow roughly and let my head fall back against the rocker.
Everything’s okay.
It’s your time.
You’re going to be a mother, and nothing’s going to happen.
Everything’s been healthy up to this point.
Your doctors have assured you that the chances of anything happening are slim.
You’ve had plenty of sonograms. Everything’s been checked and triple checked.
The baby’s perfectly healthy.
My head is racing. I keep chanting positive affirmations, telling myself that things will work out. I need to feel some semblance of control in a situation that’s uncontrollable. Giving birth is always scary. Fear is normal, but I’m having a hard time controlling it. “You’ll be okay. The baby is fine. Everything is fine.”
I open my eyes and see Cooper in the doorway. His green eyes are wide as he stares at me in the dim room. He’s in nothing but low-slung pajama pants, and even through I’m scared shitless and big as a house, my body heats for him. My eyes move up his tight, muscled chest and land on the slight stubble on his jaw. His blonde hair’s all over the place.
“Is it time?” His voice is thick and raspy from sleep.
I nod and look at my belly. “I think so. The baby wants to come out and say hi.” I smile, trying to make light of what’s happening.
He squats in front of me, placing his hands on my thighs. “When did you start having contractions?”
I blow out a breath and peer at the starfish clock on the wall. “Over an hour ago.”
He narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I don’t know. I just… I needed a minute by myself,” I admit, my gaze dropping to my lap.
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