by Amy Daws
“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t. I can picture him here,” she says, pointing to her head. “And here,” she points to her heart, her chin trembling wildly. “Those images are more beautiful than any funeral home could have made for me.”
I nod and my eyes well with tears.
She sniffs hard again and forces a pained smile at me.
“How about no makeup?” I ask.
“Great idea,” she stands up and pulls me in for a hug.
“Are you going to tell me what’s in the box, or do I have to figure it out myself?” she asks, pulling back and sniffing.
“It’s for you. Open it,” I say, handing it to her.
She opens the small black jewelry box and gasps when she sees what’s inside.
As soon as Cadence was released from the hospital, I called Mrs. Adamson about making a necklace for her. I wasn’t sure if she and Sheila would have the time or resources to make one quickly enough, but she expedited the shipping, and it arrived yesterday, just in time.
Cadence’s hand touches the beautiful silver cross that has intricate pressed detailing around the edges, and one light-blue stone at the top. She feels the layers of thin, shiny, silver wires in the shape of angel wings fastened on the back. Engraved across the cross are the words: Mommy’s Angel.
She looks up to me with tears falling down her cheeks, “Finley.”
I smile at her.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she cries, and hugs me hard with the necklace clasped tightly in her hand. “I love it.”
I hug her hard and then pull the necklace out of the box and fasten it behind her neck, “You ready?”
She takes a deep breath, touches her necklace on her chest and links her arm with mine as we head downstairs to George and the girls.
The day is chilly and overcast and there’s about twenty people all huddled near each other on the Fourteenth Street Bridge. It’s a rural part of town, so traffic shouldn’t be an issue. George and Cadence only invited close family and friends. McKinley is grasping my hand, tightly, and in her other hand are her baseball cards. I smile when I see that all three girls brought them with.
Maya is climbing on the curb by the bridge and Megan is holding George’s hand. Cadence looks flustered and nervous and my mom is clutching her arm tightly to try and calm her nerves. My dad is standing near all of them, looking stoic as ever.
I’m not surprised to see Brody walking up in his tailored grey suit. I knew he’d be here for Cadence, George, and the girls. His eyes meet mine and he half smiles at me. At first, I think he’s going to come up and stand by me, but he stops himself and stands awkwardly behind some of George’s family. I’m grateful for that because I know that the closer he gets to me the harder it will be to push him away. Especially today.
The pastor quiets everyone down and begins the service with some scripture. He then says a few words about George, Cadence, the girls, and then Baby George. My sister is crying freely, and I’m sniffing loudly as tears run continually down my face. I can feel McKinley’s eyes on me several times throughout the service and I squeeze her hand a little tighter in response, each time.
“And now, Cadence would like to say a few words,” the pastor announces.
This is news to me; she hasn’t mentioned speaking at the service at all. I wonder if this is what she did on all of her walks.
Cadence places her hand on the rail of the bridge and clears her throat.
“I’m definitely not a poet, so don’t judge me too harshly. This is just something I needed to get out of me before we say goodbye.”
She unfolds a white sheet of paper.
“I’ve titled this poem: Postpartum, With No Baby
I have memories of flutters down below.
Ultrasound pictures of growth and more.
Doppler heart rates streaming loudly,
sighs of relief as progress shows proudly.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have visions of lying on my back.
Concerned white masks staring back.
I place my hand on my small bulge,
stroking finally the boy I once indulged.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have strange stretch marks and new scars.
Bruises on veins from multiple IVs.
Rashes from tape the doctors used.
Yellow streaks from surgical goo.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have swollen breasts and leaking nipples.
Tender cleavage and blue veins streaking.
I wear tight bras to prevent the milk
I produced so easily in pregnancies past.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have hot flashes and cold shivers daily.
I have sad times, mad times, and even some happy times.
Cramps and twinges internally,
reminding me of what used to be.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have a swollen belly that’s bigger than before.
No pants that will button, this I can’t ignore.
Maternity clothes are all that fit,
despair at the cause of all of it.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have sympathetic glances and comforting strokes.
All from loved ones who want to cope.
Cookies, texts, and casseroles.
Cards and gifts to help console.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have confusion on what to pray for.
Because it all came easy, three times before.
I begin to wonder, what’s the point?
When God will surely disappoint.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have a husband who’s given me his love.
In times of grief, loss, and all of the above.
Sometimes I wonder how he’s handled it,
watching in agony as our nightmare hit.
I am postpartum, with no baby.
I have three daughters I love with all my heart.
They are my everything, and I swear to never part.
I shall give up on the dream of having a boy,
to be the Mother to three girls who give me the most joy.
I am postpartum, with three miracles.
And one angel.”
Cadence smiles beautifully as she finishes, and Megan rushes up to her and wraps her arms around her. George comes over and hugs both of them and we all attempt to quietly control the sobs inside of us on this quiet bridge.
A warm hand runs down my arm and clasps my free hand. I look over and see Brody standing beside me with red eyes. I squeeze his hand back, tightly, and then squeeze McKinley’s hand tightly as well.
As the pastor wraps up the service, George’s Dad brings five blue balloons up to where George, Cadence, Megan, and now Maya, are standing. McKinley releases my hand and runs up to join them.
Brody’s arm bands around my back as the girls, George, and Cadence release the blue balloons into the sky. They then sprinkle the ashes into the creek below the bridge.
Everyone hangs out for a while, hugging and talking. Brody goes up and gives all three girls a bag of M&Ms and smiles sweetly at Cadence. Cadence smiles back and hugs him for a long time. I see her whisper something into Brody’s ear and his expression turns very serious.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
After everything is cleaned up, Brody asks me if he can drive me back to Cadence’s house. I nod in acceptance, unable to come up with a legitimate reason to say no.
As we wind through the gravel roads, away from the bridge, Brody reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling it to his lap. I look down at our hands and feel sadness at the comfort of his hands holding mine.
“You okay?” he asks, softly.
“Yeah, that was intense, but gosh, Cadence is amazing,” I reply, incredulously.
“Yeah, she is. I think she looked almost peaceful after it was over.”
>
I shake my head. “Amazing.”
“So what’s your plan now?” he asks, looking over at me with his wide blue eyes.
I search his face, looking for signs of where he’s going with this but I don’t see any.
“Back to London, I suppose.” I pull my hand out of his.
He nods, “I figured.”
He figured? I have no clue where this is going, and the longer we drive, the smaller his truck begins to feel.
“Gonna continue working for Val over there?” he asks.
I shrug, not really feeling like talking about work right now. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”
“It’s good money, right?” he says.
Seriously, is this truck shrinking?
“It’s fine,” I reply.
“If Frank continues to refuse your rent check, it should be pretty easy to live over there, right?”
“What?” I ask, confused with why the hell he’s asking me these questions.
Feeling suddenly hot, I roll the window down and lean my head out, craving the fresh air.
“It’d be cool, too, if you could work directly for that jewelry company. They seem to like you enough,” he says, perfectly calm.
“Can you just stop?” I reply, loudly.
“Stop what?” he asks, looking at me, confused.
“Stop asking me all these dumb, normal questions, like this is totally normal for us. You know what, just pull over. Pull over right here,” I say, as we approach a small wooded area with large trees covered in bright orange leaves.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, sounding alarmed.
“I need air!” I say, as I leach the car door open and get out, walking unsteadily in my heels, deeper into the little forest area.
Brody hops out and follows behind me.
“I was just curious,” he says
“Enough, okay?” I say, swerving around to face him. “I can’t take this, Brody. I can’t take you acting like you don’t give a crap that I’m going to be in London, and you’re going to be here, and we’re just going to go our separate ways, and do our separate things from now on. This day is depressing enough.” I turn around and duck beneath a tree with low-hanging orange leaves.
“I do give a crap,” he says, grabbing my elbow and pulling me backward into him. “I care like crazy, Fin,” he breathes into my ear, his hands on both of my arms, holding me tightly against him.
My chest rises and falls with his close contact.
“Brody…” I start, my heart aching at his wonderful touch.
“Just let me say this, Finley,” he says, turning me to face him while continuing to hold me by my arms.
“When you said what you said back in London, about me leaving you because you can’t ever get pregnant…that ruined us, Finley. It ruined everything we were about.”
“I know, Brody! And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that,” I say, defensively, not wanting to listen to this anymore.
“I know you’re sorry. But I’m even sorrier. I’m sorry I didn’t show you that you were more important to me than us. You, Finley, are everything to me. I am nothing without you. I don’t care about loving us anymore. Don’t you see that? I want to love you, and you alone. Because if I don’t have you to love in my life, then I have nothing, Finley. You’re it for me. Can’t you see that?”
Tears fill my eyes. Seriously, how do I even have tears left?
“Brody, I can’t be with you. You’re going to be an amazing father someday and I can’t take that from you. Don’t you see how that could ruin whatever it is we have? I’ll resent myself, Brody! I will! I’ll hate myself for not giving us an us baby.”
“Finley,” he groans, and tucks my hair behind my ears. “I don’t give a shit about having an us baby. You’re what I care about. For all I care, I’ll be the best fucking uncle the M&Ms and the world have ever seen!”
I laugh at that.
“I’m serious, Finley. Those girls fulfill a lot for me. If you’ll have me, I’ll be an uncle to the best three girls in the world, with the woman I’ve been dreaming of my whole life.”
“Brody, I’ve changed so much these past six weeks. I love London. I love being near Leslie…and Frank even.”
“That’s fine!” he rushes, and kisses me quickly on the lips. “I’m where you are, babe. I’m with you. Forever. I’ll live there, too. Or we’ll get our own place, right next door if you want. I don’t care. Can’t you see that, Finley? Can’t you see how badly I need you?”
“I need you, too!” I cry, my reserve crumbling.
“Then stop fighting this,” he says, and smashes his lips into mine, squeezing his arms around my waist, my hands resting on his chest.
“Brody, wait…” I pull back, but then look at his lips and think better of it. I pull his face against mine again, threading my fingers through his beautiful curly brown hair. His beautifully familiar hair.
I push him away again. “I need you to be clear on this Brody. I can’t have a baby. Ever.”
“I don’t care. We’ll adopt!” he laughs, kissing my nose. “Or we’ll foster, or we’ll just rock the auntie and uncle titles and travel the world together and never have children. I don’t care, Finley. Just as long as it’s all…all of it…with you.”
“We’ll figure it out together?” I ask, one more time, scared out of my mind at the possibility of losing Brody again.
“Yes, baby. Together,” he says, kissing me again and pulling back to murmur against my lips. “Life is too precious to spend another second away from you, Finley. I love you, baby. I’ll love you forever.”
“I love you, Brody,” I breathe heavily against his face. “I promise I will love you fiercely and forever,” I say, staring deeply into his eyes.
“That’s all I’ll ever need,” he whispers, against my lips.
I grab his face again and connect our lips in a hungry, desperate kiss. Brody grasps my face in his hands, reverently consuming my entire mind, body, and soul. This is a kiss to end all kisses. I’ll never be the same after this kind of kiss. And I never want to be.
I need to feel complete with Brody. I need to feel like I’m enough. Enough of a woman for him to love me through it all. Brody gives me that feeling in spades. It was my own issues and insecurities that made me doubt what we had before. I had to grieve the loss of being able to have a child, and accept the idea of only having Brody. Brody is all I want, and all I need. And amazingly, I’m all he wants, and all he needs. I’m enough. I am enough.
THE EPILOGUE
Call me crazy. Call me stupid. Call me naive. But I really, honestly, and truly, never saw this day coming. Not even when I first met Brody and felt all the warm fuzzies a new relationship makes one feel. It just never was a part of our plan. It didn’t seem like a part of our future.
I. Was. Wrong.
The intense joy I felt when Brody got down on one knee and asked me to marry him at Christmas time, was similar to the exhilaration I felt the time I jumped off a forty-foot cliff into a river in Colorado. It was exciting and terrifying. The adrenaline and pure happiness those acts evoked, was like, the best kind of high.
The fact that it was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen was just an added bonus. Brody bought me a huge blue sapphire with tiny white diamonds wrapped around the stone and the thick platinum band. The blue reminded me of his eyes every time I looked at it. It was non-traditional and one-hundred percent me. I found myself surprised at the pure pride I felt having a ring on that particular finger.
Brody and I made up after Baby George’s memorial service and we immediately made big plans for our future together. We’d fallen into a new, wonderful version of normal. We agreed that we would wait to decide what we wanted for our future in regards to having a family because we had plenty of time ahead of us and we knew without a doubt, we were in this together. Our immediate future plans were on hold until after the holidays. We just needed time to reconnect and talk through our feelings before we worried about where we wer
e going to live.
I smile every time I think of Brody’s proposal. He caught me completely off guard, dropping down to one knee at my sister’s house, in front of their Christmas tree. I didn’t know what the hell was going on until I saw him fumbling awkwardly inside his pocket.
He pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box and said, “A wise woman once told me, in no uncertain terms, Put a ring on her finger or your ass is grass, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
I laughed as I heard the M&Ms gasping at his curse word. Cadence joined me in the laughter and I looked over at her and saw instant happy tears. That sounded just like Cadence. Her tears cemented the fact that Brody was actually proposing to me right now! George watched happily, and I looked back at Brody with an incredulous look.
Thankfully, he saved himself from that horrible proposal speech by saying, “Luckily, it was already a part of my plan.” And he flashed his eyebrows flirtatiously at me.
Because I’m an idiot, and don’t think before I speak, the first words out of my mouth after he asked me to marry him, were, “Brody, we don’t have to!”
His face was horrifying. He looked like he wanted to kill me, but was restraining himself. I’ll never live that one down. We don’t have to? Gosh, how big of a jerk am I?
However, I don’t regret saying those words to him at all, because I can still vividly remember his epic response.
“I know we don’t have to, Finley, but I want to. I want to love you and cherish you for the rest of my life. I want to see this ring on your finger, and know that you are mine and I am yours, and that together, we will figure things out.”
Tears filled my eyes as my skepticism crumbled beneath his beautiful words. I cried out a yes, and dropped to my knees, hugging him like I’d never hugged him before. I never thought a proposal from Brody would make me so happy, but hearing him ask me, and seeing that ring and the pride and joy on his face as he placed it on my finger, was overpowering.
I wanted to marry this man. I wanted him to refer to me as his wife. I wanted to refer to him as my husband. It felt like a final puzzle piece had been placed.
After we got engaged, the biggest change in our relationship was our move overseas. Brody was the one to suggest it, and I was shocked and thrilled. I always took him as a Midwesterner for life, and I knew he loved his job. But he told me that he meant it when he said we’d figure our lives out together.