Saving Bobby (rewritten)

charlotte

December 8th, 2000.

I'm having that dream again. The one day I don't want to remember. It all started about 19 years ago when I got pregnant at 17. I still wasn't ready to have kids. I did it all for him, he wanted all of me, but he was only willing to share with one. He would tell me to get rid of it or he would do it himself. It was the type of man he was. He wasn't ready to be a dad. Nevertheless to twins anyways. So I hid the fact that we were having two. He eventually came around to the idea of a daughter. He wanted to name her Carter, so that's what we did. I didnt know which one I was gonna call Carter and what I was gonna name the other. I wasn't ready to choose between my babies. I didn't let him go to the birth. I didn't want him to know. I've been down this road before with hiding my babies because they were not the first.

The day rang through my mind once again as I struggled to make the decision on what one to keep. I wish I didn't have to choose. I decided on a name for the other one. Charlie, I always liked the name Charlie. She will always have a piece of me this way. I wish I didn't have to do this. I wish they could know how much I struggled between picking them or not. I hope they don't hate me, and love the life they will eventually get to live. I have to give them up for adoption the minute they are born. I would take them both home if I had seen them. It was the second time my heart broke. I thought it would get easier as time went on, and I had also thought it'd be easier seeing how it's not the first time. Will they hate their sister for me picking her over them? Would they hate me as well? All those thoughts ran through my mind as I started to push. Right now I need them to both be healthy, and alive. They took Charlie out first. They said are you sure? Why are you doing this? Do you want to see them? They are so beautiful.

"No." I state, as my heart begins to break. "Please, I don't wish to see them."

The doctor had a hard time getting Carter out, she had been caught on her shoulder. They had to push her back in. As they did, I yelled. " Don't let anyone see them. Get them out of here."

They wheeled me out of the birthing room. And down to surgery, they needed a c-section to get her out. They numbed my body so I wouldn't feel most of the pain as they cut into my body trying to save my daughter. They got her out. I was so relieved that my baby hadn't died.

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I jump awake out of my sleep to find myself on the couch covered by a blanket. I don't remember anything. Why is my head pounding? I question myself even though I'm unsure of the answer. I get up to get some Advil, to soothe the headache that seems to be growing by the second. I open the fridge to get a bottle of water to take the pills with. She must've put it in the fridge. Suddenly, I am hit with everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. Oh god. My husbands dead. Tears slipped from my eyes. I remember then why there's a bottle of Jack Daniels in my refrigerator. I spin around, and take the bottle out of the fridge, and tip it back quickly, as I wipe the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. Jack makes my throat burn as it goes down. This is definitely the reason why I don't drink. Even though it hurts as I chug it, I want to once again forget about the day prior. I check my phone and see that my darling daughter never texted me last night. For all I know she could've been dead right now. I walk up stairs to her room and go inside. She's sleeping.

I yelled at her and told her to get out. I don't know exactly why I told her to leave, but I did. You didn't want her to see you like this. My inner conscious states. Maybe if I push her away I won't care as much if she too ends up dying. I head back downstairs for more alcohol, and then make my way up to my room, slamming the door as I walk inside. I'm so beyond angry at what has come of my life. I spend the rest of my day drinking until I can't feel anymore.