Ground Zero: My Decision

It’s safe to say that on this day three years ago, I didn’t keep the baby. I know that this topic is a heated one for many and at one time it was for me as well. Coming to a decision like this is not easy especially if you are making it on your own. It has been an decision that I regret every day.

On this day I woke up with a heavy heart. I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons before I decided that this was the “best” route to take. I got up, got dressed, and went to the bank. When I found out that we were expecting, I opened a bank account specifically for the baby. I divided a percentage of my funds between my son and the baby. My son’s college fund was already underway. It didn’t hurt to get a jump start on the baby’s. I withdrew the money from the account and closed it before heading to the doctor. By the time I walked out his office the deed was done and I was a different person.

I don’t understand how females can do this just because they don’t want to. I was able to hear her heartbeat and I still did what I did. I don’t know why I still refer to the baby as her. I suppose its more humane to say her rather than it. What I did wasn’t humane though. The pain and regret from that day follows me around endlessly. The pain that I felt during the procedure I hold onto it as a memory as to why I’ll never go back and have children. I know doing this and holding on is wrong but how could I not?

The child that I didn’t want after the rape I kept but the child that I loved endlessly I destroyed. No one can hurt me anymore than I can. I don’t know if what I did was the right thing anymore but at the same time I have to live with my decision. The fear that my father instilled in me trumped the life I carried. I was scared and I took the easiest, selfish route I could find. It’s the last thing on my mind when I go to bed and the first thing in the morning when I wake up.

I have yet to unpack the crates from the decision to move three years ago. I have yet to sort out the baby clothes and supplies. I never carried back the things I bought. I gave them to other expecting mothers. The crates… I put them in storage or packed them away in the back of the closet. I don’t like to deal with things and I don’t think this is something that I’ll ever be ready to deal with.

I write a letter to my child on this day. When I’m done I burn it on the candles I lit. Two white candles to symbolize how she would have been. One for forgiveness and another because it’s needed. I don’t even have it in me to write a letter this time around. Eventually you run out of ways to say sorry. There’s no going back or I’ll do better. There’s nothing left but an emptiness that swallows you whole.

My dream was to be a social worker or a teacher. I don’t even want to be that anymore. I wanted to protect children and make sure they didn’t give up in what they believed in. At the end of the day I couldn’t even protect mines from me.

Someone I loved wasn’t born today and that was because of me.

© Hikari Aie

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Day One – Part Two: The Party

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My Letter – Cannot Be

 

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Day Two: The Ultrasound

The last couple of days haven’t been the best. It seemed like my relationship was on different sides of the spectrum. For some reason, I still found it in me to stay optimistic. I mean I had to if I wanted my relationship to work.

Today was the day of my ultrasound. I was nervous yet excited. I was nervous because after everything I wanted things to be alright. I was excited because I get to see my gummy bear for the first time. I knew that it was early and I probably wouldn’t see much but it was enough to show me that it was real.

I left work early and took the bus to the hospital. While heading there I stayed in constant contact with my boyfriend via text. He wasn’t picking up the phone and messages where going unanswered. I was starting to get worried that he would miss the ultrasound. Another thing that would be missed yet again. If he did miss it, I wasn’t so sure that he would be there for the balance.

After checking in, I sat in the room and waited. If you’ve never had an ultrasound before then let me tell you it is not all that it is cracked up to be. Honestly, you have to drink a ton of water and wait until they call you to do the ultrasound. Having a full tummy and bladder of water makes it easier for the technician to see inside of you. However, if you crack and go to the bathroom then you have to start all over again.

Eventually my boyfriend showed up. Words cannot explain the relief that I felt just seeing him walk in. The fear that I had started to fade away. He showed up. It wasn’t on time but at least he showed up. He’ll never know that I refused to do the ultrasound without him. In reality, I could have been in and out of the hospital in an hour. I waited the couple hours for him. I knew the nurses felt bad for me. They kept questioning my decision and asking me if I was cold. Truthfully, I was freezing but I wouldn’t admit that. My fingers were tingling and my toes were numb. I was stubborn and in love so I wasn’t doing it without him. Even if it meant that I would have to reschedule. I would wait on him.

Another woman would have just done it and left but I couldn’t. Maybe I was being stupid or just being a hopeless romantic. Keyword…Hopeless. I just didn’t think that he should miss the first ultrasound or any in fact. I really didn’t want to do it without him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I noticed that he was there but he wasn’t there. We made small talk but it still didn’t feel like how we were before. If he wasn’t happy, he was easily agitated. It felt like I was the cause of why he was acting like that.

I noticed that he never looked up from his phone when the technician called my name. I turned and asked him if he was coming and it seemed like he could care less. I tried not to let it dampen my spirits. Today would be the first day that I saw my gummy bear. I laid on the table as the technician explained the process and squirted the cool gel on my stomach. Within seconds I was staring at our gummy bear. Everything was going well according to the technician. He reconfirmed the due dates of the baby and that was it.

No one could have more happier than me at that moment because it meant that I was able to unleash the waterfall that I was holding in for so long. I bounced happily to my boyfriend after and asked if he was ready to go. When I looked at him I could see that he was gone again. He had nothing to say and the support that I was looking for was gone.

The support that I wanted wasn’t really there. He was more concerned about our baby coming on the date of someone else’s. The disappointment that I felt was surreal. I was going through my second pregnancy alone. What made it worse was that I felt like I had trapped him into something that he didn’t want. All the convincing in the world couldn’t change my mind at that moment.

© Hikari Aie

To Be Continued…

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Day Three: His Words

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Day One – Part One: The Plan

Day Five: The Aftermath

By the time the doctors released me from the hospital, I was a train wreck. Walking back to the car I couldn’t stop shaking. Miniature earthquakes took over my body and I was extremely cold. I was wearing my shirt, jacket, and still my boyfriend’s shirt. There was nothing that could be done to shake the chill off me. Walking was painful, every step felt like someone was slamming a bat into my sides.

I was tired, drained, and defeated. I was grateful that he was there because that meant I had somebody who cared. It disappointed me that my dad thought I was making the whole situation up for attention. I was more upset that my mom didn’t fight him to come see me. She was my mom and I needed her, but my dad won again.

I didn’t reach home until two or three in the morning. I was still floating on morphine and the sensation was blissful. He walked me to my door and my mom met me to the top of the stairs. If my mom had any doubts about me being sick the look on my face proved her wrong. Walking was becoming challenging because I was so tired. I was still shaking even after the drive home. He never turned on the ac or cracked a window just to keep me warm. My teeth kept knocking and I bit my tongue/lips several times.

My mom took me into the room and undressed me. She found the warmest pajamas she could find and dressed me. Her eyes widened at the dried blood on my clothes and my arms. Finding humor in the situation and telling her that I was fine was probably the only thing that stopped her from breaking down.

She tucked me into bed and the most I could say was that I was sorry. I was sorry because I was being selfish in wanting her to drop everything to come to me. I knew the business was more important. I knew my dad needed help and I was sick. I apologized because she had to carry the brunt of the work since I was now officially on bed rest. More importantly I apologized because I added to her workload.

Recovering wasn’t an easy feat. I basically slept in until after twelve. It was something that I wasn’t allowed to do since my son was born. My body was barely functioning like it should. I was still cold in ninety degree weather. The shakes seemed to be getting worse instead of better. The worse part wasn’t the headaches that made me black out but it was the fact that I could not control my bodily functions. If I had to go, it just happened. If I sneezed, I wet myself. It got a  point where my mom put padding on the bed. It was that or depends and I wasn’t going to do that.

My boyfriend brought my medication from the drug store and that was the best part of the day. Honestly, I just wanted to recover by him instead of in my house with the chaos. My dad was convinced that my actions were intentional. He also felt that if I stayed home instead of escaping by my boyfriend’s house then I would have never gotten sick. My mom was just thankful that I was getting better bit by bit.

Every day that I stayed home, I grew weary and antsy. I was annoyed but doing better. I just didn’t want to go back to the follow up appointment at the doctor. I hate doctors. I cannot stress this enough. I really truly hate doctors. The good news about the appointment was that I didn’t have to go alone….

To Be Continued…

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Day Six: The Hospital

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Day Four: The Appointment

Eight More Days…

Surprisingly enough, I am doing well. Eight more days and it will be the anniversary of when I lost my little one. In the past I would scream and shout or just become a shut in as the dates get closer.

It’s on my mind. The day everything happened and the pain I felt. Strangely enough it feels like karma is finally getting back at me. The pain that I feel in my stomach right now reminds me of the pain that I felt that day. It gets hard to catch my breath sometimes or I can barely move. I just sit/stand and wait for the pain to pass so I can continue what I’m doing.

Oddly enough, when I found out I was pregnant back then I had gotten extremely sick. I knew I was pregnant before I took the test. It was a nagging gut feeling. I just knew. Today I’m sick…just sick. I’m getting the same pains and the familiar pull in my stomach. Unfortunately, pregnancy is far from the cause. Although, I wish I was pregnant. I know it won’t fill the void but I still want it…you know?

Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re too young to understand or probably saying get over yourself its been years. However, for me, its a lifetime of guilt.

The worse part about that day was that I was alone. It was then that I realized that it was the beginning of the end of my relationship. Losing a child hurts, but its worse when you have to deal with the loneliness and pain by yourself. There was no one to turn to and no hand to hold.

I lost more than my child that day. I lost myself.

To be continued:

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Crossing the Finish Line…

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Seven Days Left – The Beginning

Crossing the Finish Line…

It is around this time of year when I start to feel nostalgic. You see, three years ago I was pregnant. My baby would have been two today. Girl or boy, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would have loved them to the end of the world.

I remember the shock and joy of finding the news. I remember waiting for the ultrasound with a full bladder and then seeing my baby for the first time on the monitor. The connection I felt was instant. My little gummy bear was safe and sound, happily growing inside me. Every day of morning sickness and pain was well worth it. The end result would have been so amazing.

I’ve learned that with joy comes pain. The pain of losing a child. Never seeing them grow or feeling them kick. Wishing that you could hear them take that first breath. Blaming yourself for not being a strong enough person to carry that child all the way.

December 6th 2010
Six weeks

March 9th 2013
Six weeks, One day

The days my babies slipped away from me. The days I will never forget. The days where I write and burn a letter to my babies then let the candle burn to nothing. I carry the guilt with me everyday. They say it gets easier with time but I need so much more time to get over it. I still cry when I see newborn babies. Sometimes I absentmindedly touch my stomach or I fight the urge not to cry when my son asks me for siblings. The emptiness that you feel inside never really goes away.

I was told I should be grateful because at least I have one child. What happened to the other two that I failed? Sometimes I feel bad for loving them more than my son. Is it bad that I do that? I’m grateful for my son but I wish…desperately…that I crossed the finished line with them. My son has his flaws but he turned out amazing. I wanted the same for them as well.

So I sit…with my hands wrapped around my stomach and beg for forgiveness, beg for another chance.

I can’t live with this kind of guilt and pain. 
I promise I’ll do better.
Please, give me back my babies.
Turn back time.
I’ll work harder.
I’ll be good.
I’ll protect them.
I promise.

Please give me another chance….

I’ve begged and pleaded and cried. The pain from a loss you’ll never forget. It haunts you. It weighs you down. Yes, they are in a better place but why so soon? Why wasn’t I strong enough? I should have been.

The fear of loss keeps me from having more children but I desperately want another child.  I know it won’t fill the void that I feel inside but I want to have a baby. I want to have a baby with someone who loves me and them. I want a strong support system for “our” child.

Until then I’ll continue to live in this fantasy world I’ve created with my children. In reality, I’ll smile every day when my heart is screaming,

“Give me back my baby.”
 

To Be Continued
With

Eight More Days…

Teddy Bear

I remember when I really loved teddy bears. Something about the soft, furry, bundle of cotton always made my day. I don’t know if it was because they were so gosh darn cute or because it symbolized hope with a dash of love. Teddy bears happened to be my go to thing but I never bought them for myself.

It wasn’t until my last relationship that I started receiving them. He was actually the first person to buy them for me. Every holiday or special occasion, I got a bear, puppy, monkey, anything stuffed really. After a while, I quickly realized that the “little girl” in me died. Simply because he took the love and hope out of it. The gifts weren’t thought felt as I’d wanted them to be.

I would go through weeks of hunting for that perfect gift or just sit down and just create something special from scratch. For him, a teddy bear was a quick fix. Whether it was bought at the side of the road or in the store, he made it mines and sold it to me in such a way that I couldn’t say no. I knew I was being cheated out of a good memory but the things we do for “love” right. My hope and love for teddy bears quickly died away until I resented the hell out of them. Gathered them all up and threw them away. Swore off of them for the rest of my life.

Until today…

We all know that Valentine’s day is quickly approaching, another holiday I don’t too much care for. That’s a story for a different day. Anyway, while walking through the store with my boyfriend, my eyes happened to wonder over to the teddy bear section. I watched him out the corner of my eye and then glanced back at the bears. I don’t know what it was but I felt the “little girl” in me begging just to look at them. It’s the same feeling a child gets when they hear the song of the ice cream truck outside.

Being the stubborn person that I am I quickly blurted out,”I hate teddy bears.” I didn’t hesitate or think about the statement I was making. I just said it with no consideration that maybe, just maybe, he may have gotten me a teddy bear or some other treat. Kind of selfish on my part.

There is now an awkward silence between us and I just find my way over to the that section of stuffed animals. At first, upon entry, I felt nothing but hate for those stupid bears that were used as a cop-out for the duration of a quinquennium. I know they say it’s the thought that counts and I honestly believe that but when it becomes thoughtless…

My boyfriend is waiting ever so patiently for me while I go through the tirade in my head. There is no need for the wall to be built up but I think its the thought of being vulnerable in public that gets me. As I turn to leave the section of nausea, I saw this one small puppy. It had floppy ears and looked so adorable, I must say. It was blue with the most darling eyes and in between its little paws was a heart that said “Luv Ya”.

Just like the Grinch who stole Christmas, the wall I built crumbled and I was that giddy little girl again, relishing in the fact that I found my one true happiness. As sarcastic as that sounds, I was honestly happy beyond all measure. As I approached him I hid the little puppy behind my back, so carefree about it without a thought in the world.

When he finally realizes that I had my trophy with me, he said, “Put it back.” Then followed it up with, “I thought you didn’t like teddy bears, remember?” I watched him defiantly as tears instantly welled in my eyes. He took “Blu” the teddy I had already gotten so attached to and promptly named in the span of five minutes then placed him on the shelf. Needless to say, when he marched me out the store, the tears wouldn’t stop. Much like a child who couldn’t get their way, I threw a fit.

I can’t blame him for getting upset with me and telling me “No.” I see his point and I foresaw the outcome. I guess that’s why I was hiding it. I don’t think I hate teddy bears as much as I say I do. I think I just hate the memories that were attached to them.

Long story short, if I was just a little more open with him, maybe “Blu” would be sitting here with me right now, keeping me company, in my friendless world.

Missing You

I walk alone on a cobblestone road,
I am lost and searching,
Where do I go?

I yearn for those wonderful times with you,
When you were in my life,
There was so much to do.

Now I sit here, completely depressed,
I cannot go on without you,
I feel destroyed, I am a mess.

All those memories keep lingering back to me,
I am in so much pain,
Can’t you see?

I remember the way you held me tight,
Your smell, your lips, your hair,
And the way you said, “Goodnight.”

I cry almost every night and day,
My heart is aching,
I wanted…NO…needed you to stay.

Why you left me, I wish I knew,
But know for certain,
That I am just missing you.

Love

Love is confusing, conflicting, and hurtful. To find it is the most beautiful thing in the world. It’s like a gift…a treasure even that you should hold onto. If possible, hold onto it forever because you never know when it can drift away. When its lost and gone, you feel empty and void, like all the things that made you happy is no longer there.

No more staying up late on the phone, moonlight strolls, dates in the weirdest places. No more hearing the words I love you, plans to be wed, and breakfast in bed. No more signs of affection, terms of endearment, and holding hands.

And the biggest question now that follows:

What do you do and how do you move on?

Do you lock yourself away and give up on everything? Do you move on and sleep with the first person who says what you want to hear? Do you put up a shield around you that is so thick and strong that no one can get close to you…friends or family? Do you smile and act like your heart hasn’t been shattered into a million pieces?

It’s hard, making that decision at the spur of the moment. What if you just wait? What if love finds you again? What do you do? Do you push them away or pull them close? Do you give it your all or just let it slip away? Do you even try to make it work? Listen and communicate to make it stay whole? Smile and share secrets that can last a lifetime?

Why should that one “special” person suffer for what someone did to you? Why? Yet still you say that you will never do that and you do. You hold onto the hurt that someone inflicted on you that you never fully heal. You never get over how much that person made you cry night after night. How much they put you down and let their ego get the best of them. The weirdest is that despite everything they did to you…

You still love them.

If this is the case, then why?

Love is…

Hurtful

Trust

Uplifting

Stressful

Wonderful

Complicated

Commitment

Everything

Love is giving somebody the ability to hold your heart and trusting them not to break it.

If trust is not there,

Then it is impossible to love.

No Control

The sound of your palpitation,

Drowning out any voice of reason.

That bitter taste of vile words in your mouth,

Poisoning your tongue.

Blinded by the white-hot adrenaline,

That pulses through your veins’

And the stench of venom,

Readying its-self to explode.

The sinking feeling in your stomach,

Like you’ve just swallowed a brick of lead.

Fist clenching, palms sweating,

Your hair standing on end.

Then, when you finally realize,

That you forgot your humanity,

For just a split-second…

It’s too late.

 

 

 

Of Mine

Baby of Mine,
I feel you
See you.
I want to touch you
But you are not really there
You are in my mind’s eye
What you would look like
What you would smell like
In my mind I can hold you
You make me smile
You make me cry
What did I do?
To have you leave me…

I want you back!
To not have lost you!
To hold you!
To have you!
Love you…
Oh, Sweet Baby of Mine