My Blossoming Redemption

FORTY-SIX

"Here you go, Bear," I speak to the little white and blue thing.

"Ta!" Gabriel grins. "...En!"

"Can you say, Aspen?" Hannah asks.

"Aspen!" he repeats, lisping the s and elongating the n.

I laugh and ruffle his hair. "Well done!"

I stand up properly and face Nick. He's smiling, but his eyes are clouded with tears. I find my way into his arms and compose myself.

Breathe in... one... two... three.

Breathe out... one... two... three.

"Do you need a minute, my daisy?" he whispers.

I shake my head.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Okay, I'm okay." I breathe and stand up.

Nick slips his hand into mine and squeezes hard.

"I'll finish the tea, you two take a minute," Hannah says and finishes making the drinks. I stare at Gabriel as he munches on the biscuits – Nick made sure to only give him three so he doesn't eat the whole packet.

They say when you give birth, as a new parent you feel this rush of pure biological love. The thing is, both Joel and I knew we weren't destined to be his parents for a long time before I gave birth to him. When he appeared, crying and covered in blood and white gunk, they offered for us to cuddle him. My instinct kicked in and I wanted to, but Joel told them no. For a little while, I was annoyed with him, but then I realised when the pain subsided, and I was more with it that it was the right thing to do. They offer skin-to-skin with the mother after birth for a reason – to strengthen that bond. We didn't want that. We couldn't want it.

I never thought I would see Gabriel again after that last time, that moment I kissed his tiny little newborn head and made sure to cover the spot with his tiny baby blue hat so it would be absorbed into his brand-new skin.

As I watch him munch away on those chocolate biscuits, simultaneously feeding himself and his bear, I notice he no longer resembles that red, round chubster of a newborn. He's a little toddler, and he looks like Joel. It's like watching a smaller version of my late husband, and as much as something in my heart breaks, it soars and makes me proud to see.

I just hope he doesn't have that awful, awful disease.

My mind suddenly stills, and I know somehow, months ago a small bible verse would've appeared in that stillness, or my mum's voice telling me this is my fault. But I don't even know what she sounds like anymore.

All I can hear instead is Nick's steady breath beside me, and it calms me right down.

It's funny how the turn of events in my life has finally dissipated my mum's eighteen years of bible preaching in my mind. It's funny how a simple curly-haired angel could walk into my life and undo years of torment with a whole host of cheesy nature-themed pick-up lines.

But now I am faced with the reality of that life I've chosen and while it might be the best decision to be without my parents, their religion and a life of following temptation, it comes with the advantage of seeing my son.

If that's a good thing, because right now, I don't know whether it is. He's the most adorable little man I've ever seen, but am I opening myself up to pain by not being able to keep him?

I know I didn't regret it two years ago. I couldn't have done it then.

It's a strange feeling. I don't feel pulled to him; I don't feel a rush of love. But I do see Joel, and I do see me.