Her eyes flutter closed and several tears escape her lashes, streaming down her face as she gently nods her head, giving me the go ahead. “Don’t baby me though, I want to hear every single detail,” she warns, opening her eyes and showing me that she means it.
I nod my head in acknowledgement, waving at her chair and tilting my head for her to sit down. She puffs out a breath impatiently before sitting down and settling her watery gaze on me as I choose to stay standing.
“I don’t know where to start,” I say, hating that I sound so unsure right now. If I start from the beginning then I know she won’t hear me out fully. “The hospital,” I say. “Let’s start there.”
She nods, wiping underneath her eyes and sinking into her chair.
“When the baby went into distress, it brought it all back, everything that happened the day that Nat… died.” I say the last word on a whisper. “I need you to understand why I reacted the way that I did; why I walked away.”
“You weren’t the only one feeling like they were drowning. Telling you that I can never be a mother hurt me too. But couples work through these things together, Tris. They don’t run away when things get tough.”
“I know,” I answer her, lifting my head and staring at her for several seconds. “I’m so sorry that you can’t have a baby, Harm. I really am. I can’t imagine the pain that you went through; the pain that you still go through every day.” The lump in my throat builds and I try my hardest to clear it before continuing. “I can’t even imagine not having Clay or Izzie. But can you imagine what it would be like to not have had your mother around when you were growing up?” A traitorous tear falls down my cheek and I swipe it away angrily. “I have to look into Clay’s eyes every day, knowing that I’ll never be enough for him. He needs a mom.” I take a breath. “Just like Izzie does. The notion that she’ll never have a relationship with her mother. It rips me apart, Harmony.” I shake my head. “I know she has Amelia and my mom, but it’s not the same as having the woman there who gave birth to you.” I take a breath, closing my eyes and re-opening them.
“No kid should have to grow up without a mom, but you have people around you willing and wanting to help you. And that’s what I’m saying. I know how hard it must be for you, but you could’ve talked to me and… I could’ve helped.”
“Yeah,” I answer, defeated. “I know I could have, Harm. But I’m so used to doing everything on my own now. Tackling each problem as a single parent, I haven’t leaned on anyone since…” I leave that hanging in the air, the pain running through my veins almost becoming too much to bear.
“I know it’s not easy, I wasn’t expecting you to talk to me and for everything to be okay. But at least you would’ve been talking to me, then we could’ve gone from there.” Her eyes flit between mine. “You weren’t alone anymore, Tris, and it hurts that you didn’t trust me enough to help you.”
I take a breath, the stuttering sound echoing in my ears. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m not looking for your sympathy, I want to tell you what happened. I want to help you understand why it’s so hard for me.” I start pacing in the small space, pushing my hand into my hair and pulling at it, relishing in the pain that shoots through my scalp as I seek physical pain to distract from the emotional one building up inside me. “It’s hard, because it’s not just about me anymore. I come as a package. A package of three. It’s not easy, it won’t ever be easy and I’m finally coming to terms with that.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “But the thought of losing you for good…” My voice breaks and I stop myself from finishing that sentence.
“There wasn’t one moment that I didn’t have the kids in my head. In fact, I hadn’t even separated you, I knew you came as a package.” Her arms fly up in the air. “God, I love those kids like they were my own and it hurts that I’ve lost them too.”
My eyes spring open. “You haven’t lost anyone, Harm. I never doubted for a second that you loved them.” I let my hand drop from my hair and point at my temple. “But in here? In here I feel like I’m lost: that I’m losing every battle I’m faced with.” I shrug. “I know I walk away from things, but that stops now. I’m tired of running.” I walk forward, keeping my eyes on her. “I’m tired of running away from you.”
“I can’t do it again.” Her eyes leave mine as she stares at all of the artwork on the walls. “I can’t break any more than I’ve already been broken.”
“I understand,” I say, the words sounding dirty in my mouth. “But whether you do or don’t want to be with me, I need to tell you everything.” I clutch my hands together, squeezing tightly. “I’ll know then.” I nod. “I’ll know that I did all that I could to make things right with you.”
Her gaze falls back on me and I hold my breath as she studies my pleading face. “So, the hospital?” She doesn’t need to expand on what she means, I know exactly what she’s asking me.
“Yeah,” I croak out. My mind flashing back to that awful day; the day mine and the kids’ lives changed forever.
“That’s it, Nat! You can do it!” I encourage her as she clutches my hand in hers, squeezing as she moans in pain. I grit my teeth from the force, but don’t dare say a word because I know that it’s small in comparison to what she’s feeling at the moment.
“It hurts.” She flops back down on the bed, her face red and her breaths coming in short bursts as slick sweat coats her skin. “I can’t do it anymore, Tris. I can’t.”
She shakes her head emphatically, begging me with her blue eyes for a break, for the pain to stop.
“You can, Nat. You can do this. Think of our little princess. She’s waiting to meet her mommy.” I smile, lifting my hand and cupping the side of her face. “You can do this.”
She nods her head, her eyes filling with determination as another contraction takes ahold of her.
She shouts and leans forward, pushing with all of her might as the midwife keeps encouraging her.
“That’s it, Natalia. Keep going, one more push.”
She blows out a breath as the contraction subsides and leans back on the bed, waiting for the next one. I plant a kiss on the top of her head as she takes a break, whispering that I’m so proud of her in her ear as I push the wet hair off her face.
“Arrrggghh!” she shouts again, pushing forward and putting all of her waning strength into the push.
“That’s it!” My voice breaks as I look down and see a full head of hair, followed by a body and then a baby’s scream. “You did it!” I croak, the emotion of seeing our daughter born taking my breath away.
The midwife picks her up, settling her on Natalia’s chest and covering her with a warm towel, wiping all of the goo off her tiny body as her wails fill the room.
“She’s got some lungs on her,” the midwife says, chuckling. “What’s this little one’s name?”
“Isabel,” Natalia murmurs, looking down at the baby girl lying on her chest, a tear running down her