Page 151 of Nineteen Letters
I chuckled when you playfully poked my side.
“You know what I mean.”
I did, but the thought of our daughter dating one day made me feel incredibly uneasy. I could finally sympathise with your father and the struggles he faced when we first started dating.
“Why don’t you go inside and get changed, and I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner. We can go to that all-you-can-eat buffet at the club.”
Your eyes widened as soon as I mentioned the all-you-can-eat buffet. You loved going there. It wasn’t fancy, but the food was good. You always stuffed yourself with so much food you’d get a stomach ache.
“As appealing as that sounds, we really can’t afford to eat out … especially now that we have a child on the way. I’m worried how we’re going to afford the mortgage on this house … plus?—”
“Shh,” I said, cutting you off and placing my finger against your lips. “I don’t want you worrying about anything. We’ll manage, Jem. I promise.”
“Okay.” Although you smiled, I could tell by the slight frown on your forehead that you were going to continue to worry no matter what. I had no qualms about taking on a second, or even a third job if needed. Taking care of you was all that mattered to me. You and our baby were my responsibility. “Can we eat dinner here? We have a tonne of stuff in the freezer. Besides, I don’t want to share you with anyone.”
“Is that so?” I asked, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Tonight, I want you all to myself.”
I liked the sound of that. We were always at our happiest when it was just the two of us. “Whatever makes you happy, babe.”
“I feel like pasta.” You stuffed the rest of the chocolate into your mouth before extending your arms out wide. “A huge big plate … with that spaghetti sauce mum makes, and maybe a salad … oh, and some garlic bread. Mmm, garlic bread,” you whimpered. I laughed when you tilted your head back, practically salivating.
Draping my arm around your shoulder, I guided you inside. “Let’s see what supplies we need to prepare your feast.”
We had everything we needed except for the salad ingredients. Every time your parents visited, your motherwould stock up our freezer with meals she had prepared. She’s always been great like that.
You set about heating the spaghetti sauce in a pot on the stovetop, while I drove to the store.
After buying what we needed, I headed back towards the carpark. I passed a store that I hadn’t noticed before. The baby jumpsuits hanging on a sales rack out the front caught my eye.
I remember stopping and picking one up. They were so tiny, and I was consumed with the need to buy you something. I wanted to be the first. Your mother would’ve gone on a shopping spree the moment she found out, but sadly, she never did.
To this day, we haven’t told any of our family or friends about our loss. It’s what you wanted. You’ve always hated people fussing over you.
I’d only taken a few steps inside the store when my eyes were drawn to the cutest pair of socks. There were a bunch of them sitting in a neat row on the shelf beside the front counter. I picked up the ones with the pink writing first: I love my mummy, was embroidered on them. They looked minuscule sitting in the palm of my hand. In that moment, it all became real.
It was overwhelming and somewhat daunting to know our child was going to be that small when it was born. I’d had nothing to do with babies in the past.
My eyes flickered down to the blue pair next. The inscription: I love my daddy, really seemed to hit home. I’m not ashamed to admit I was so overcome with emotion that a lump rose to the back of my throat. It had only been five days, but the realisation that we were going to become parents was setting in.
I didn’t know if the baby you were carrying was a boy or a girl, but your words from earlier that day came to the forefront of my mind … “I want a pigeon pair … one of each.” With that in mind, I purchased them both.
I actually felt giddy on my drive home. Even now I can still picture the look on your face when I gave them to you … I remember telling you what a great mum you were going to be, and I wasn’t mistaken. I couldn’t ask for a more loving or nurturing mother for our children.
The timing may not have been perfect, but in my heart, I knew having a child together would only enhance our love for each other. If that was even possible. At the time, I didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than I already did. I know better now. My love for you is endless, Jem.
Later that night, as we laid in bed in each other’s arms, everything seemed so perfect. The initial shock of becoming parents had worn off, and reality had well and truly set in.
We stayed there for hours talking about all our hopes and dreams for our child. I’m pretty sure we had both eventually fallen asleep with smiles on our faces.
Neither of us could have predicted how short-lived our happiness would be, and that the very next day all those dreams would be shattered and our world as we knew it would fall apart.
The days that followed were a dark time for both of us, especially for you. The smallest of things would reduce you to tears. Sometimes your sadness was replaced with anger, and you’d lash out or snap at me for no reason. This was a side of you I hadn’t seen before, but deep down, I understood. I was hurting too, but more so for you.
In time, I knew you’d be okay, but for the interim, I was at a loss. There was a part of me that worried this would change us, and things would never be the same. I wanted to make all that hurt go away, but there was nothing I could say or do to make it better. I hated that. I’d never felt so helpless.
The 22nd of August, 2013. By now, everything had gone back to the way it used to be. Your beautiful smile had returned, and you were laughing again. I can’t even tell you how relieved that made me feel. I felt like I could finally breathe again. You hadn’t mentioned the baby or the miscarriage in months, and although that made me sad, I knew it was a coping mechanism for you.
