More tears.
“We can do this,” I encourage us. “Don’t worry, baby.” When had I started thinking I needed Colt to help me with this baby? To help me raise Squirt?
I’d lost myself in a dream. Stupid. Stupid. I’d always been optimistic. Maybe I need to rethink my optimistic outlook. I’m learning that it makes losing so much more painful.
Cause now I’m alone.
Alone and scared…
It’s so muchworse than I’d imagined it would be. This place.
Without Colt Forrester. Without his lazy smile, smiling eyes. It makes me hurt all over.
It’s been a week since he left. Squirt still hasn’t turned. Brent’s been pestering me. Says leaving me was the biggest mistake he ever made.
The irony.
I’m going through the motions of living because I have no other choice. I have this little precious creature growing inside of me. He needs me to eat. To sleep. To drink. He needs me to feel peace and comfort. The last two are the toughest. I’ve meditated. Exercised. Communed with nature. Unfortunately, all of it fails to ease the pain of losing Colt.
Both midwives met with me at my last appointment. They’ve discussed my options. We can still hope for a vaginal birth but the likelihood of Squirt turning now is almost nil. And since I have a small pelvis… Next week I have an appointment with an obstetrician who performs cesareans.
It’s not what I wanted, but…
That’s my life now… A bunch of ellipses.
Ever since he left, I’m supposed to move on. I’m sure I’ll feel better after Squirt’s born.
I’ve never felt this alone.
I have friends, family. I talk to people all day long. And Brent is trying so hard. He doesn’t get it. I’ve told him nicely that I’m no longer interested, but it’s as though he doesn’t hear me.
Teri told me Brent admitted to her that he saw some pictures of me online with Colt. She thinks it has something to do with why he came back. The idea that somebody else wants me now.
Wanted.
It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why he came back. I know he’s Squirt’s dad, and he’ll have to have some sort of relationship with our child, but I can’t fathom anything else.
I miss Colt so much. My head hurts. I feel weak.
Each morning I wake up and remember he’s not here is like a new day of hell.
Heartbreak is a physical pain. It’s an absence of something we want, something we need to be happy. I know time will dull the ache. I know I’ll find my peace again. I’ll eventually even be content. But can a person ever be truly happy without their soulmate?
I’m at 38 weeks and am beginning to look like a truck. This morning I feel like I’ve been hit by one. My head hurts, I’m sluggish. Teri’s put me on the schedule for one more week. I don’t want to let her down.
I shower, dress. Oh, hell. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I vaguely consider calling my midwife, Mara, as I walk to the offices. I have difficulty separating physical pain from my broken heart, but something feels wrong. I walk through the sliding glass doors, and black shadows edge into on my vision. I’m dizzy. The world’s spinning. I reach out for something to steady myself but nothing is there.
And then everything slips away.
Colt
Rehearsals have nevergone so easily. Even the new drummer fits like a glove. Guilt plagues me for thinking this. For replacing my dead friend with somebody who plays better than he did. The guy’s name is Banks, and he’s clean as a whistle. God help me, he’s the male version of Charlie. Vegetarian. Zen. Doesn’t believe in booze or drugs. I didn’t realize any of this when we chose him.
The universe must be taunting me.
Most of us flew out to Atlanta to kick off the tour. Don’t ask me why Atlanta. Max books it, and I play the gigs. The bus meets us there. It’s been upgraded over the past three months. Sleek, shiny. Modern. My personal ride provides me with all the comforts of home. Hell, it’s decked out with more amenities than most brick and mortar homes.
My bedroom’s in back, and I have the option of total darkness even when the sun is shining. Fully stocked kitchenette, mirrors, bar. Guitars. It’s designed specifically for me. The playboy me.
