Pain I Regret

There aren't a lot of things in my life that I can say I don't regret. As much as anyone else, I have plenty of regret. But one thing that isn't common about me, I regret feelings only I ever truly knew about. This may not be as confusing as I kind of think it is. Then again, maybe it is. You see, back in 2011, I became engaged to my boyfriend-at-the time. (We are now married, but that's a story for a different time.) It was February 1st to be exact. We had gone out to eat with my sister and her husband (now her ex-husband, could be another story for another time, who knows) , and I had thrown up everywhere. Keith was the sweetest man and held my hair back. He then buried my throw up in the snow and acted like it didn't happen. I rinsed my mouth out with the drink in my hand and chewed on some gum, completely embarrassed of having just puked in front of my said boyfriend of 5 months (and friend of almost a year). We went into the store and were looking around. I decided to attack Keith with foam swords and such. Well, he pulled me to an aisle where we were completely alone. And then it happened, my world spun, my heart raced and my mind exploded, because it was there in our own little world in our own little space that he asked me to be his forever. I didn't waste my time saying yes of course, because for the first time in my life (mind you I was 22 years old at the time) I was wholly and truly in love with someone. I wasn't scared when he raised his hand to touch my face, I didn't flinch when he would wrap himself around me, and most important of all, I didn't feel too inferior to look into his eyes. For once, someone wanted to hold me, to love me, someone needed me. I wasn't his punching bag, or his mistake. I was someone he wanted forever. And with this, we were promised to be man and wife.

Sometime later, we left Rhode Island for Peterborough, Ontario. And it was here, for two whole weeks, we were together. Just he and I. Most our days were spent cuddling, watching the snow fall, playing video games, me waiting for him to get home from school as I played Susie Homemaker with food and cleaning. And at the end of February, I was on my way back to Rhode Island, back to the cold dark loneliness without my polar bear to hold me (inside joke, hee, sorry). Now growing up, my period was always a little- off. But for over a year up to that point, I had been on time, like clockwork. But, even by January, Aunt Flo hadn't visited. By February, still no signs. At the time my sister had three kids (she now has five) and I went to her- hoping- maybe, I could be pregnant. We went to the store and got an at home test. And within minutes, there it was. I was pregnant! I had taken the test first thing when I woke up that morning. I couldn't believe it. I was going to have a baby. I wasn't scared, I had helped raise enough children that I couldn't wait! I laid there all night talking to Keith, rubbing my belly, thinking, this is it. We are going to have our own happy, perfect little family. The snow had fallen enough that by the time Nikki had cleared the driveway for us to go the clinic to get confirmation for Rhode Island medical, the clinic was closed and we had to wait til the next morning. The next morning I wasn't feeling too hot. But we went anyway. We took the test and waited. But then, my stomach began to cramp, horribly. The woman looked at me and said "No honey, it's registering as negative." We got home, I was an emotional mess. And then it started, the bleeding. My gynocologist told me that it was a chemical pregnancy. They happen when something is wrong with the baby, if I had been sick or if I had been stressed. And all I could think is, I let my baby down- my family down.

A year later, on February 14th, my sister found out she was pregnant. And I am ashamed to admit, I was angry- jealous. She was happy, and for that I was happy for her, but that part in me still exploded with tears and anger. There were plenty of nights that I laid in my bed, listening to her husband talk to her stomach, bawling thinking "That should be me. I should be laying here with Keith talking to our baby. Or even laying here holding our little baby as they slept." I supported her throughout her pregnancy, and even stayed in the hospital the week she was in labor with those little turds. I constantly talked to her stomach to get the babies going, even put the phone with my husband talking on the other end to her stomach. And they loved it. Finally, she had her C-Section on August 25, 2012, just one day before my birthday. Chris came out calmly and quietly at 11:42. I sat by her head, crying, talking to her as her blood pressure dropped, hoping my sister would pull through this, telling her how beautiful they were. They cleaned little Chris and let me cut his umbilical cord. By that time at 11:43 little Desi came out like a whirlwind, screaming and kicking. Sadly, I didn't get to cut her cord, or even hold her at first. But I took little Chris to see his Mommy. He clutched his teenie-tiny little hand onto my index finger, and stared up at me. For the first time in my life I had witnessed a birth, and though deep down inside I was crushed that this little bundle of joy in my arms wasn't mine, I fell deeply in love with the life I held in my arms. He playfully kept blowing off his mom. But I walked away for a moment, and his little grey eyes locked with mine. I forgot all about my regrettable pain.

They took the babies away, and Nikki to recovery after they had finished her tube tying and such and put her insides back in. We joked about how she lost her ENTIRE stomach that fast. And then they took her back to her room. She was LOOPY on morphine, so off to the NICU I went. There I met my youngest baby niece for the first time. And I fell in as much love with her as I had Chris and the three before him. My oldest niece at the time was 10 and had (with some help from an adult) made me a birthday cake. The boys who were only 4 at the time helped ice the cake. And it was the sweetest thing ever. When we brought Chris home, for the first two weeks (as my sister was sore and tired, and usually went to go see Desi a lot because she wasn't doing so good) my little peanut slept on my chest. And I pretty much was the only one who could calm that little beast (his mom and my husband could, but that was it). Three years later, these little monsters are still in my life, all five of them, and I still love them all so much.

I regret how much pain and anger I felt at the birth of my baby niece and nephew. I had my own 'baby' of sorts for some time, my little Cathulhu. He was a sweet 6 month old Tabby when some neighbor bastard ran over him as he had gotten out while I was at work. They broke his back and within 24 hours the only real option I had was to put him down. The pain was overwhelming as I walked home from the veterinarian carrying the cardboard casket that held my baby. I laid him beneath my window, his favorite spot to get out, and I often look out, wishing I had been there to save him in time. I cried uncontrollably to my husband that God keeps taking away all my babies, but I have hope that one day, he will give me a blessing, one that will heal the pain of the two I have lost. One day, I will have a bundle of joy of my own that will grow into a teenage pain in the ass, who will one day grow up and realize that mom was right, like I did. I regret that I don't even have my own mom to help me, to hold me when the pain is too much (as my mom would understand because she had a quite a few miscarriages) but God took her from me too. But in return, he gave me the biggest blessing of my life, my Keith. And for that I thank him.