Happy Beginnings Lead To Unhappy Endings
Her hair was kissed by the sun,
Her skin was soft and tanned.
She shone bright, her radiance rubbed off on so many others- she was my sunlight.
Her soft lips against mine gave me a feeling of joy, a feeling of hope for a happy future.
That feeling of hope was exactly what I felt when I knelt down and opened the small black box.
The tears in her eyes and the bright smile that lit up her face gave me my answer- yes.
The happiest days of my life were when she were lying next to me, her hot breath comforting me as she snuggled into my chest.
I remember the day that she told me- happiness had flooded my mind and I had pulled her into my arms as I felt her tears of happiness wet against my shirt.
The love I had felt for the growing bump in her stomach was too much to explain- my child meant everything to me.
Her late-night cravings were the most humorous of times- first she wanted obscene amounts of peanut butter, then she wanted five jars of pickles a night.
At first I struggled to provide for her, to push away my thoughts about myself and keep my focuses on her and the beautiful child growing inside of her.
And then it was the day of the ultrasound- we were going to have a little baby girl.
We decided that we were going to name our beautiful daughter Hesper- the name meant 'sunlight'.
She looked so small in the ultrasound, so petite.
I knew she was going to be beautiful.
Through the days and weeks after the ultrasound, we went through some tough times together.
She would scream at me about how hard it was for her, carrying a child. And then I would yell about how it was hard for me too and how she shouldn't always think about herself.
I remember the day before the baby was due, we had a large argument.
Her exact words were,
You don't understand how scared I am. You don't understand how worried I am that something will go wrong and our daughter won't live to see one living day. And that kills me, can't you see?
I could see, I understood the pain she was feeling because I was feeling it also.
That was what I had explained to her so harshly, what had caused tears to fall down her cheeks as I turned and walked out the door.
Now I wish I hadn't- but now, it's too late to turn back time.
I had been at my home, my anger causing me to smash things, break things, hit things.
I had never lost my self-control that way, ever.
The phone had rung and I had angrily picked it up, an urgent male voice on the other line.
As I listened, what he was saying began to register and the phone clattered to the ground, my feet never seeming to move fast enough to get to the car.
There's been a miscarriage.
Your wife lost a lot of blood- we're not sure she's going to make it.
We couldn't cut the cord in time. I'm so sorry.
I had previously imagined when this day would come- I would drive her to the hospital and be there when the baby was born- I would hold our beautiful little Hesper in my arms and sing softly to her.
It would have been the happiest day of my life.
It was going all wrong, everything was going wrong- that was all I could think as I ran down the hallway in the hospital, doctors and nurses recognizing me and giving me sympathetic looks.
Some apologized to me as I rushed by- finally I heard my name being called and I rushed into the room where the noise was coming from, my heart stopping at what i had seen.
I remember those moments so vividly, like it only happened a moment ago.
I had stopped dead in my tracks as the doctor looked down, not saying a word to me as I stared at my wife's lifeless body.
How did this happen?
Those were the thoughts that were running through my mind as I dropped to my knees, a cry of pain and grief escaping my lips.
Nobody stopped me when I rushed to the side of her bed, pumping her heart, slapping her, hitting her, abusing her.
I had screamed at her to wake up, not to leave me with nothing- but she hadn't listened, and neither had my beautiful daughter.
So I was left with the pain- the pain of loss, the pain of grief, the pain of losing the one thing you love the most.
It had started out perfectly- my future had looked so bright, I was able to imagine our daughter growing and looking up to me.
Life is like a clock, I suppose.
It ticks and tocks for so long before it decides to lose power and stop- the only difference between life and a clock is that you can give the clock power once again, but in life you can't.
That's why I'm sitting here writing this now- to rid myself of the pain, to forget her beautiful face compared to her pale, lifeless one.
But I suppose happy beginnings always lead to unhappy endings.
© Copyright 2016 Wicked Beautiful. All rights reserved.
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