“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”
My resolve was starting to break the tighter he held me against his cold body. It felt like all his warmth left with our baby. As if he was waiting for me to breakdown, waiting for me to lash out, waiting for something that maybe didn’t have anything to do with me. I was so worried about him that I couldn’t even contemplate what just happened. I couldn’t mourn the loss of our baby because I was terrified that I would soon mourn the loss of the man sitting beside me.
The one that took years to make it back to me.
Loving an addict was like being on a roller coaster with no seat belt on. You had no idea when it was going to turn. You’re just confused, disoriented, fearful, praying...
All you could do was hang on for dear life and hope that it didn’t kill you.
“Do you think—” He stopped himself, leaning over me to grab his beer from the table.
“What?” I peered up at him. “What were you going to say?”
He wouldn’t look at me. Not for one second. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. Polishing it off with one gulp.
He didn’t need to say it. I knew what he was thinking.
“It’s no one’s fault, Austin. You heard the doctor. He said these things just happen, usually for no reason at all. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“It’s not me I’m blaming.”
I tried to jerk free, but he held me tighter into his chest.
“Baby, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just… I love you… we can do whatever you want. You want to try for another baby, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he said with a tone void of any emotion, still blankly staring at the wall in front of us.
It hurt immensely that he couldn’t even look at me. He wasn’t able to look me in the eyes and tell me what he really meant by that.
“Austin—”
“Briggs, stop. I’ll hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere. I can promise you that. I just can’t talk right now, okay? I just want to sit here with you in my arms. I just want to feel you. That’s all.”
Tears threatened to surface as I bowed my head in defeat. He lightly skimmed his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes holding onto the love we shared, the last four years, the first four of our relationship, the memories, anything I could cling onto for hope.
Exhaustion won the battle I was fighting. I fell asleep silently crying in Austin’s arms on the couch. I woke up from a dream, except before I even opened my eyes I realized I was alone. My memory blanket securely placed on top of me. The darkness from the outside world was shadowing in through the sliding glass doors.
Revealing the truths I already knew.
I whipped the blanket off of me, needing to find him. My feet moved on their own accord to the room that was going to be our baby’s. I just had a feeling that I would find him there.
As soon as I walked in I saw him, his demons prevailed. My fears went unheard. He didn’t even try to hide it. I don’t know if that was better or worse. He peered up at me with his vacant constricted pupils.
His blue eyes so illuminated.
So hollow.
So. Fucking. High.
<>Austin<>
I tried.
I swear to God on our love. On Briggs’ life. On our unborn babies.
I. Fucking. Tried.
I sat there for hours holding her, praying that it would be enough to keep me strong. To hold me together. To hold me back from what was calling for me, what my mind and body craved. After she passed out, I still sat there not wanting to let her go. Letting the night’s events play out in my head, trying to understand what it all meant.
When I saw the blood in between her legs, it didn’t even register in my mind what was going on. I just wanted to get her to the emergency room to make sure she was okay. Not once did I think that it could be our baby. The thought never crossed my fucking mind. When the doctor confirmed it was a miscarriage, my whole life flashed before my eyes.
In seconds.
And I’m not talking about the life I was currently leading. From that moment I felt it.
My sobriety.
My recovery.
My demons were emerging from the darkness, sitting right on my goddamn shoulder, whispering, lurking, and fucking waiting.
I ignored it. Almost like you did to an itch that needed to be scratched.
I thought if I held her. If I had her in my arms, I’d be able to fight off the demons. Knowing that if I relapsed, I could lose her. I could lose everything I ever wanted. But it didn’t matter because I already felt like I lost another part of me. Of us, and nothing was bringing our baby back.
I felt guilty for not sharing my many emotions and thoughts, things that I didn’t want to say out loud, not wanting them to be true. That was my first mistake.
In the end.
The craving won.
There I was lying in the same bed where we spent almost three months talking about the future. Planning our lives. The very life that included our baby. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get a choice. A say.