Midnight Confessions

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Previously In Midnight Confessions – Chapter 30

The Memorial

Edward held me close with his arm draped around my shoulder as we entered the chapel. Jacob held onto my hand, griping it tightly with tears streaming down his cheeks. I was shaking; my chest tightened as we made our way inside and were ushered to the front pew. Our family and closest friends occupied the first several rows.

The chapel was packed. It made me happy to know that so many people cared for us–for Leah. People were there to pay their respects. Most all of the faces I recognized, but there were some that I didn't.

Edward did a nice job of displaying the pictures by Leah's urn. Flower arrangements surrounded the table, as well. The service was beautiful, but my focus was on Leah's pink blanket. I wanted to hold it to my nose and breathe in her scent, hoping it would still be there. I knew that it wasn't, but I wanted to snuggle into it and feel closer to my baby girl.

The song "In My Daughter's Eyes" played during the service, and I lost it all over again. My chest ached. I wanted to die. I wanted to be right where Leah was and hold her to my breasts again. Kiss her. Love her. Be with her.

Edward wrapped me into his loving arms as I cried into his chest. He tried soothing me by rubbing his strong hands over my back, burying his nose in my hair and placing kisses there.

"Breathe, baby. Just breathe," he said softly into my ear. I closed my eyes trying to calm myself. I knew all eyes were on us, and I hated it. I wanted to go home and crawl back into my bed.

My cocoon.

Several prayers were said and then, just like that, it was over. The service seemed too long at times, but at the same time entirely too short for someone who meant so much to so many.

Especially to me.

It was time to leave for the cemetery and lay Leah to rest. I wasn't sure how Edward pulled it off, but there was already a bronze statue of a little girl in a wheelchair at her grave, but instead of her sitting completely in the chair, she had angel wings and looked as if she were flying up to Heaven. Leah's full name and the important dates were on the plaque at the bottom of the statue.

I hugged Edward when I realized what he had done. He gave me a sweet smile in return.

Jacob, Alice, and Jasper stood near us; we all kept one another from drowning, so to speak.

The day turned into one long blur. Edward took hold of my hand, leading me to our car to take me home.

I remember hugs and kisses from our friends and family and then the drive home. It was again quiet in the car. Much too quiet, but I had nothing to say, so I relished in the quietness.

I just needed my bed.

Midnight Confessions

Outtake for FGB4Christy

Two weeks after the Memorial

The days are endless. Minutes tick away like the soft, barely there heartbeat under my ribcage. With each hour longer than the next, my days clump together—meaningless without the comforting hum of the ventilator down the hall.

Her lifeline.

I feel my baby girl the most when l lie in bed. She's with me when I sleep—in my dreams—so my bed is where I want to stay, holding on to small pieces of her.

Forgetting her is what plagues me these days, making me slip further into a dark void which frightens me. It's lonely there. Companionship, even that of my husband, doesn't furnish me with security.

At this moment in time, only one person can save me but she's been taken from my arms. Even though doctors had warned us that eventually Leah would pass, it doesn't make this moment any easier.

I'm free falling, chasing salty-tears that precede me.

Plummeting toward an endless chasm horrifies me. So I try righting myself, washing the sweat from my body and the grime from not taking care of myself. I only eat enough to function, except it only last as long as my will to stay awake and not escape.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Edward sits on the bed beside me, brushing my greasy, three-day-old hair from my face. I see my reflection in his eyes, but when I dare to peek at the man taking care of me, I see it in his expression as well.

He's hurting.

Broken.

Maybe his pieces aren't as shattered as mine, but he's heartbroken nonetheless. I have no energy to fix him, and he's falling too.

"No." My voice cracks from lack of use. In past weeks I've mostly cried out to God, begging Him to explain why He took Leah so soon.

And Edward nods—our way of communication these days.

I'm surprised he wants to stick around, and I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to leave.

Sharp thorns puncture my heart like daggers until I feel as though I can't take it any longer. My heart bleeds dry, turning black in the process. This endless fall takes my breath away, squeezing the life from my body, leaving me gasping for air as if this is the end.

That moment where I feel like it's too much to expand my lungs, I hear her voice.

She saves me.

Closing my eyes, her visions dance. They take flight behind my darkened lids. Sometimes the corners of my lips twitch as if connected to marionette strings and a smile tries to form, but the taut strings go slack with sadness. The apparitions dissipate almost as quickly as they appear—when I start believing what I'm seeing—then I'm returned to the place I loathe.

Gasping, desperate for another fix, the vision I crave taunts me, eluding me for minutes, sometimes hours.

So I wait back in the lonely darkness without my beacon of light: my precious daughter.

In my childless house I'm devastated once again.

Deep down, I realize there's no forgetting the beautiful soul I was fortunate enough to call my daughter with her dark hair and blue eyes just like mine. My first best friend … my sunshine.

Leah: my beautiful child with a heart of gold.

I was blessed.

Familiar boney fingers of despair reach toward me once more, pulling me close and suffocating my frail existence in its hold.

I'm trying to function, I am, and I think I've been good at pretending. Enduring the times when Edward is home from work, up until the time we go to bed. When I'm alone I don't have to put on a fake smile and pretend I'm okay.

I'm just me, dealing with the realization of losing a child to a horrible disease.

I'm broken.

The lies I tell my family and friends, and especially to my dear husband, pain me. I want to be honest and say I'm not okay—I hurt. I'm sinking and miss the hell out of my baby. Instead, I put a smile on my face. I make small talk, do the things a 'normal' person should do, all the while waiting for the moment I can crawl back into the security of my bed to dream of Leah.

Edward tells me I won't forget her, and I hope he's right. But the reality of a future without Leah is that I know I'll forget her scent one day, forget the silkiness of her hair between my fingers, forget the sound of her giggles and the sweet way she said ah.

When I slip from my faux happiness, unaware of Edward watching, it dawns on me that he may realize I might not be fine. Occasionally, I see him watching me more intently.

He's concerned.

Worried.

I hadn't been paying attention to him, to the way he looks at me, until now.

"You okay, B?" Edward asks, walking toward me. I don't realize I'm wiping the same spot on the counter. I'm zoned out.

"I'm fine." I stop the monotonous swipe of the sponge and move on to the broom in the corner, avoiding his touch. Cleaning seems to keep my hands occupied while my brain is on auto-pilot.

I've been deceitful.

He's never called me out, though; he only loves and tries hard to soothe by saying encouraging words.

But our bed is my true comfort. Where when I slip into a deep slumber Leah is there wrapping her now able arms around my waist, hugging me tightly with muscles that work, and saying words I would have killed to hear her say in her eight years on earth.

I love you, Mommy.

My dreams are vivid—real.

Watching her run, play, and jump is my greatest joy. I wished for those moments every day that she was alive.

Maybe this is my consolation prize: these perfect moments with my love. The ones I prayed long and hard for, along with a cure to be found so that I could have my girl forever.

I hate SMA (Spinal Muscular Atrophy).

A parent isn't supposed to bury their children. The prayer I prayed every single night wasn't answered for my daughter, but I still hold out hope for others.

"Good morning." Edward rolls into my side, his bare chest presses against my warm body. Sliding his arm around my waist, he caresses his nose along my jaw line.

"Morning," I say, keeping my eyes closed, hoping I can stay in the other realm where I have come to find peace. I'm not ready to wake. I'm not finished watching her play.

I haven't told Edward what I've been experiencing while I sleep, for fear he'll commit me. Or worse, placate me not believing my truth.

"How about some breakfast?" His nose is now on my ear, nuzzling in closer.

I nod, figuring Edward's idea of breakfast is takeout from the diner. Leaving me here while he picks up food will give me a few more minutes with Leah.

"Sounds good, I'm hungry."

"Not the kind of breakfast I was talking about." His hand slips down to the edge of my panties, his finger playing with the elastic band.

Reaching down, I stop his advance, and he sighs in my ear.

It's entirely too soon. I need time to grieve. I have no desire to make love.

He smiles and shakes his head. "Okay."

Sometimes I think he knows about my obsession: the alternate world where I'd rather spend my time but haven't told anyone about.

Not even Ali.

"I'll be home soon." He kisses my forehead before walking out the door.

When he leaves, I vow to be a better wife; we are newlyweds for heaven's sake.

Will I ever move on? Will I ever get past the anguish that twists me from the inside?

.

.

.

"B, I'm taking you out." Alice towers over my semi-conscious body. Waking me at eight o'clock in the morning wasn't her best idea.

"No. I'm busy." I roll over, pulling the covers over my head.

"Sorry, you're coming with me. Now get up." She takes my covers and pulls them down, exposing the fleece pajama pants and sweatshirt I've worn for the past several days.

"I'm okay here." Again, I'm deceitful and Ali doesn't hesitate to call bullshit.

"Yeah, and you smell like you're doing fine, as well." Alice sizes me up. She's been my friend forever and knows I've been trying to escape reality.

I groan. It's been six weeks since Leah's death and I'm not getting better. I'm staying the same, if not getting slightly worse.

"I'm feeding you, and then you, my dear, have an appointment with Dr. Smith."

I sit up. Tears spring from my permanently reddened eyes. "So now all of you think I need help?"

"B, you do need to talk to someone other than us. Not that you've been an open book as of late." She takes a seat next to me, wiping my tears that won't stop falling. "I understand, sweetie. I miss her too. But you have to get better. I can't lose you too." I lean forward as she wraps me in her arms. "Edward's a wreck and instead of doing this together you've shut him out."

I feel her warmth, her love, and she's one hundred percent correct. I need to do something other than die in my bed every day. I nod. I haven't been fair to Edward or to myself.

"I don't know what to do, Ali. I miss her so fucking much." I try to contain the sobs beating me from the inside, but I fail miserably. "She was my heart." I cry, and I'm not sure how long Alice holds me, but we're interrupted by Edward when he bends down and scoops me up.

"Let me take care of you," he whispers as he carries me to the bathroom. The shower's already on and waiting for me.

Edward sets me down and helps me disrobe.

"I love you, B." He kisses bare skin that he hasn't seen in ages, placing light pecks on my shoulder as he pulls my sweatshirt over my head. Finally, his lips touch my cheeks, forehead, and mouth.

I didn't know how much I needed him until now. He was there for me when I struggled to make ends meet. He helped me to take care of Leah, and then selfishly, I pushed him away when I needed him most.

When he needed me the most.

"I love you too, Edward."

Love is an all-consuming force. It has the power to make you jubilant, take you to the highest of heights. It has the power to heal. But love also has the power to bring you to your knees and take you to the lowest of lows. Love can break you.

The man caring for me, the one taking his time to bathe me, love me, and fix me is the good love. The love that will carry me through the rest of my dark days until I finally see the flicker of light I've been searching for.

.

.

.

With every new day that passes, I find myself smiling more. They are genuine, feel-my-cheeks-lift-and-crinkle-my-eyes kind of smiles.

It's been a long time.

After three months, I even find myself desiring Edward like a wife should. He's been wonderful—nothing short of amazing. Never once did he make me feel like I was anything less than perfect. Even on the days when I did nothing but cry.

He's even mentioned that we should try for another baby.

I can't even express what those words do to me; they ignite feelings I haven't felt in ages.

The thought of becoming a mother again is surreal.

The opportunity to love someone new is very appealing; my body craves that bond. I loved that connection with Leah. I welcome it again.

Someday.

The fact that Edward isn't a carrier of the SMA gene will mean our baby won't be born with the disease. That alone makes me smile. My answer to his question when he asks is: it's still too soon. But I'm not opposed to practicing. He loves when I say it that way, picking me up and twirling me around in circles until we are both dizzy.

The dreams of Leah have been sporadic in these past months. Still, I relish in them. Every time I see her smiling face and pretty blue eyes it gets easier. She skips and sings and always tells me she loves me. But one night in particular, she tells me she has a secret. She leans to my ear and whispers the loveliest words. The feeling wraps me tightly like a blanket of sunshine on my shoulders, releasing the dark energy from the past several months. The secret is a foggy memory as I wake, but I feel light and carefree, remembering bits and pieces throughout the next several days.

I feel the warmth of something new on the horizon, something weaving through my veins, telling me things are going to be just fine. In those dreams, Leah had always told me that she was happy and not to be sad. For the first time, I pay attention and really see the truth in the visions of her giggling.

"I think we should try," I say to Edward one afternoon while we are both sprawled out on the couch. Our legs intertwined as we watch TV.

"Try what? The new restaurant in Seattle I've been telling you about?" His hand lazily strokes my hair, trailing down my arm and then back up again.

"No." I pull my cheek away from his chest, looking him in the eyes. "I think we should try. You know? Try having a baby." I smile.

His face lights up with pure joy. Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me until my breath is but a wisp and I need to come up for air.

"Really? A baby?" His mouth finds purchase once again. His tongue enters my mouth with reckless abandon. I feel him hard underneath my stomach as he unintentionally rolls us to the floor with a soft thud. His arms help to cushion the blow.

Laughing, he says, "Sorry, baby. You don't even know how happy you've just made me."

Nodding and smiling, I tell him I do know and thank him for loving me through the bad times.

.

.

.

Leah's love for me was endless and unconditional. She spoke volumes with her eyes, and her happy sounds brightened the gloomiest of days.

She hasn't come to me in my dreams for quite a while now.

She must know I'm doing okay.

The secret Leah held and then whispered in my ear grows deep within my belly—a heartbeat—a strong, healthy child.

I haven't forgotten how Leah kept me from completely sinking in my darkest hours or how I was gifted the visions of her eternal happiness. I know one day I'll be with her, holding her once again. Until then, I will live the life I am supposed to live and raise another child: her sister. And forever nurture our family.

Thanks to the trial and tribulations of my past, my marriage is stronger after almost diminishing before my eyes.

I'm thankful for the privilege of motherhood; it's the hardest job I'll ever love.

A/N: My dream for this fic is to pull and publish, so I'll be working on that dream very soon. The urge to publish is something I'd like to do in order to bring awareness to SMA, and especially now that my sweet girl is in the hospital struggling to beat pneumonia.

I appreciate your kindness and lovely reviews.

Hugs,

Gee xo