Chapter 33
Abby
Thirty Nine Weeks
"Knock, knock."
I turn over slowly, peeking over the duvet to find Ellie standing in my bedroom doorway. The second our eyes meet, my face scrunches up with the anguish I've been avoiding as long as possible.
"Oh, my sweet ginger angel," she says softly, climbing into bed next to me and laying so close that our noses are almost touching. "What happened?"
"I don't know," I whimper. "Everything was fine and then it wasn't."
That's exactly how it felt—like someone flipped a switch and all the hope and excitement turned into something dark and unbearable.
I knew I didn't mean it when I told Jack I wanted him to leave.
But something in my brain kept telling me that I should mean it, that I should be feeling this miserable.
Like if I'm not sad or scared enough, that means I'm not mourning properly.
A horrendous little voice in the back of my mind repeats itself on an endless loop.
Your husband is dead. You will never be happy again. And you shouldn't want to be, not without him.
And especially not with someone else.
I recount the whole scene to Ellie, realizing that although it felt like a lifetime in the moment, everything unraveled in less than ten minutes.
"My sweet Abby," she murmurs, brushing my hair out of my face and wiping my tears. "I wish you wouldn't cause yourself more pain. I think life has done that enough already, don't you?"
"What do you mean?" I whisper.
"You have been been dealt an unimaginable hand," she continues, still softly stroking my face. "It's enough just to survive it. It's unfair to punish yourself because you think you aren't measuring up to some arbitrary standard for how a person should grieve."
"But it feels like this is how I should feel," I say. "My husband died, and I'm having our baby on my own. Shouldn't I be this miserable all the time?"
"If anything happened to Griffin, and I found a way to get through it, would you ever even consider telling me that I'm doing it wrong?"
"Of course not," I say, propping up on my elbow and resting my cheek in my hand. "The last thing I'd ever want is for you to be sad forever."
"So why can't you do that for yourself?" she asks. "Because the last thing I, or Jack, or Aaron, would want is for you to feel this way permanently. Please be as kind to yourself as you are to others."
"I'm not always kind," I say in a small voice. "I certainly wasn't kind to Jack."
"I don't think you were being unkind, angel," she says reassuringly. "I think you were trying to hurt someone else before they had a chance to hurt you. But he wouldn't, you know."
I look at her questioningly, tilting my head and waiting for her to continue.
"Jack," she says patiently. "He wouldn't hurt you."
"I know," I sigh, sinking back into my pillow. "But I hurt him. I don't know if there's any hope of fixing that."
The truth is, even if there is a way to fix it, I'm too much of a coward to do it. I'm ashamed and embarrassed, and scared to death of fucking up with Little One. All I have in me right now is to focus on her, and how to be the best mom I can.
I feel like I've already ruined everything and she's not even here yet.
"Oh, hush," she admonishes playfully. "You know if you called him he'd be over here in a heartbeat, no questions asked."
I nod, dropping my head forward onto her shoulder. I know he would. And I know he wouldn't even be mad at me. And I know everything would feel so much better.
***
Ellie and Griffin have practically moved in now that we're on official round-the-clock baby watch. Having them here has been the biggest relief, even if I was only by myself for two (long, miserable) nights.
Someone stops by every day, no matter what—David, who has a present for his "new best friend" in hand every time he comes through the door, Dad and Nate, who act like a pair of mother hens whenever they're around, and Alan and Andrea, who are almost as excited for Little One to get here as I am.
The hustle and bustle has been a welcome distraction.
Every day feels like a lifetime as I slow crawl to the finish line of carrying my baby girl.
The air is practically buzzing from all the anticipation, so much so that I can't help but grin as my horde of caretakers flit around anxiously while we all wait for Little One to make her appearance.
But despite what Ellie said, and what I know is true, no matter how many times I pick my phone up, I can't bring myself to call the one person missing from our little hodge-podge family—the one person I desperately want to be here with me.