"What do you think of this?" Mom held up a floral, flowy shirt with blue and green accents.
I paused in my search at the next clothes rack. "That's pretty. Very you."
She looked at it again, fingered the bottom of the fabric. "I think it might be too scratchy."
I didn't say anything as she put the hanger back on the rack and moved onto the next one.
Shopping with Mom was never particularly relaxed, nor was it easy. But I'd made the mistake of mentioning that I needed new clothes for the fall semester, and she'd insisted on a shopping trip together. I couldn't say no.
"What kinds of things were you looking for? Anything in particular?" she asked, sifting through the next rack of clothes. She paused and wrinkled her nose in distaste before quickly moving on.
"Um, a little bit of everything. A couple pairs of pants, some tops, some sweaters—"
"The basics."
"The basics," I agreed, pulling out a pretty lavender top.
"You won't be able to pair that with anything else."
I knew she was right—it was more of a statement piece—but I put it back feeling bothered.
"I think we should go to that other store, what's it called again?"
"H&M?"
"Yeah, H&M. We usually do well there for you, don't we?" Mom smiled as she headed past me, out of the store she had chosen.
"But I thought you wanted to look in here," I said, following her.
"I don't see anything I like," she said as I caught up to her, dodging other mall-goers as we headed for H&M. "And besides, it's more important we find you what you need."
I sighed, already exhausted, but resolved. "Alright."
"When do classes start?"
"August 28th."
"Are you looking forward to it?"
"Yeah," I said, and I meant it. "It's actually been hard being home these last couple weeks."
I'd ended up working the second summer semester after the first. Harry had gotten busy in the studio, and I didn't see any point in my staying away from work while he was busy. Especially considering it had been so helpful in getting me through the worst of the sadness after my miscarriage. It took me out of myself, and I needed that now more than ever.
"Mm. Harry still working a lot?" Mom asked, looking sideways as we passed the food court.
"Yeah he's been pretty busy, but I—"
"Want a coffee?" Mom asked, gesturing toward the Dunkin Donuts counter.
Like she had to ask. "Sure."
"Sorry, you were saying?" she said as we veered off in the direction of the coffee.
"No, uh... he's been busy, yeah. But I think I would want to be working anyway. Even if he wasn't."
"Good. It's good for you to get out."
"Exactly."
We were waiting behind a few people—one of them was a young mother with a baby in a stroller and a toddler at her hip. I tried to ignore the sting where it hit me somewhere between my chest and my gut at the sight. The worst of the pain had certainly eased a good bit since a couple months ago, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt.
That didn't mean I didn't still wonder whether I'd ever have what the young mother in front of us had.
Whether Mom sensed the train of my thoughts or not, I couldn't be sure. "What would you like? Medium? Cream and sugar?"
"Yeah, but I'll have an iced."
We were both quiet as the woman and her babies walked away, and I didn't watch them. I kept my focus forward as Mom said hello to the girl behind the counter.
Progress.
It wasn't until we were walking away, coffees in hand, that Mom made it clear that she knew exactly what I'd been thinking.
"So have you and Harry talked about trying again?" She sipped her coffee and looked at me, and I knew what she was thinking.
It had been almost four months since the miscarriage, and things were back on track for us in terms of work and our relationship. We were over the worst of our grief. It was time to at least start thinking about it again, even if we couldn't quite talk about it yet.
And we hadn't talked about it. At least, not since we'd gotten things back on track with our sex life. After jumping that first hurdle, Harry had taken it upon himself to wear condoms again. Just for the interim. Until I made up my mind about what I wanted to do next.
"Harry, I can't ask you to do that," I'd said to him over dinner one night, after a couple weeks of getting reacquainted with each other via lots of oral sex.
He'd bought a box of condoms earlier that day and looked supremely pleased with himself as he set them down on the dinner table between us after we'd eaten.
"You're not asking," he said, grin softening. "I'm offering."
I didn't know what to say to that, so when I didn't answer, he went on.
"Look, I'm—I miss you. I miss us. And these last few weeks have been so great, but I want more. I need more with you. I need—I need everything with you."
He could've stopped right there. I was ready to ride him right that second. But Harry—my beautiful, beautiful husband—went on to say, "But if you're still feeling fearful or nervous about it, we can wait a little longer. I just wanted you to know that I'll do whatever I can to make you feel comfortable with this again. You don't have to—"
"Harry?" I grabbed his hand, tangled my fingers with his.
"What?"
"I love you."
He looked slightly confused, but the tilt of his smile told me he knew what I was getting at. "I love you, too."
I kept my eyes on his, kept his hand in mine, and stood, then grabbed the box of condoms with a smirk I couldn't help. "Let's go."
Ever since, we'd had sex with condoms, and Harry never once complained. I appreciated it more than I could explain, because I'd missed him, too, and it removed so much of my worry. But I also knew that not only wasn't it foolproof—I'd learned that the hard way once already—but we'd have to make a new decision soon. We couldn't go on like this forever.
So it was either I went back on birth control, or... we started trying again.
And I wasn't particularly comfortable with either option just yet.
"Uh," I started to say now, biting my straw while I considered Mom's question and how I wanted to answer it. "Sort of."
"Sort of? What does that mean?"
I rolled my eyes. "We haven't really."
"Well, why not?"
I looked at her, slightly shocked. "Don't you think it's a little soon?"
"It's been a few months."
"Only about four."
"Well, how long do you plan to wait?"
I scoffed, and she looked at me with wide innocent eyes. "Insensitive, much?"
Now she was the one looking affronted. "I'm just asking, Madelyn. I realize it's not a command performance."
"Could've fooled me."
We were walking into H&M, and I would've preferred to drop the conversation entirely, especially considering that there were other people within hearing distance now. But Mom had never really cared about airing my dirty laundry in public spaces. Or Will's. Or Mark's.
"I just—I don't want you to build up a fear over this. The doctor said there's still a very high chance that this next pregnancy will take."
She said this while holding up a top she found by the door, right next to another girl who was looking between the two of us like we'd just ruined her day.
"Could we not talk about this now?" I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, when would you like to talk about it? You're going to get busy with work in a couple days and I won't hear from you for weeks at a time. I have to take my chance while I have it."
I moved away from her, sighing as I headed for a rack full of different colored tank tops.
Mom stepped up beside me. She kept her voice low when she said, "I'm sorry. I just—I know how badly you want this, and I want it for you, too."
I looked at her.
She smiled softly and lifted a hand, curled my hair behind my ear. "It's not my place to tell you when to start trying again. That's got to come from you, and I know that. I just don't want you to let fear stop you if it's still something you think you want now or in the next year, okay?"
"I—I know. Thank you."
I tried to smile, and so did Mom, and just like that, she dropped the conversation. It was what I wanted, obviously, but as we continued sifting through the racks of clothing, pulling pieces we thought might work for one of us, what felt like thousands of words raced to the back of my throat—thoughts I'd been having, but setting aside because I was busy with work.
Because it was easier not to think about them.
After my first miscarriage, there was no question in my mind that I wanted to wait a long time before trying again for a child. And it wasn't like I had a choice anyway. I wasn't with Harry, and even though I'd thought I wouldn't ever be again, I couldn't really imagine finding anyone else I might want to have a baby with.
This time was different. So very different.
I was married. To Harry. The love of my life. We both had careers that we loved, a beautiful home together, financial stability the likes of which I'd never even dreamed of when I was younger, and—we'd decided to try for a baby. We'd succeeded. I was pregnant. Then, I lost it.
Our baby. Harry's and mine.
Gone.
It was my worst nightmare come true. Again. Except this time, it followed up the most beautiful dream come true. It came from a love I'd only ever hoped I'd find. And somehow, for whatever reason, it still wasn't meant to be. Not to mention, this time, I knew to be scared for it ahead of time, which almost made it even worse because I felt like I should've seen it coming and hadn't.
This miscarriage was just as traumatic as the first, but so very different at the same time. There was the same grief, the same pain... but there was Harry, and there was love, and eventually, there was a small bit of hope again.
Hope for the future.
These last few weeks, since we'd started having sex again, I'd started thinking about the future more and more. About our family. About the potential for our family. And after losing this baby, I didn't think I would start thinking about that potential for a long, long time.
But this time, I had more to hope for. Being settled down, knowing that we could take care of a baby, knowing how badly we both had wanted this one—I was definitely feeling the urge to start trying again.
Which terrified me.
Mom must've known. She must've sensed what was going on with me. She'd seen everything after my first miscarriage. She knew how bad things had gotten. And she could see how different things were now—how quickly I'd bounced back.
Because after the first one, I felt like I had no one. Even with my family and friends around, I felt like everything was wrong. My entire life was messed up.
Not this time. I had Harry. I had my family. Everything was still okay. So much was still right in my life, and that made it easier to see that there was still so much potential in my future.
By the time I got home, I was filled to the brim with those same thoughts and words that I wouldn't let myself think or utter these last few weeks. But now...
Now seemed as good a time as ever to set them free and see what happened.
"Hey," I called into the apartment, dropping my keys into the bowl by the door and negotiating all my bags so that I could close the door behind me.
Immediately, I could tell Harry was cooking, and I smiled because I knew exactly what it was.
"Hey," he called back, and I hurried into the kitchen smiling. Sure enough, he was standing over the waffle maker. He grinned back as he wiped his hands on a towel, his eyes going down to the bags at my sides. "Did some damage, I see."
"Waffles?" I asked, setting the bags down on one of the seats at the counter.
He grinned but didn't glance back as he lifted a fresh one out of the waffle maker, just shrugged one shoulder. "Figured if I felt like it, you might, too. Ow."
Harry lifted his burned finger to his mouth but hurried to get the waffle out intact, and I smiled, shuffling over to wrap my arms around him from behind. He chuckled as I pressed my cheek into his warm back. The soft fabric of his shirt smelled like laundry detergent.
"Hello to you, too," he murmured, his hand coming to clasp my forearm for a moment.
"I missed you," I said.
"Hang on." Harry hurried to pour a ladle-full of batter into the waffle maker and close it, then he spun around and gave me one of his close-lipped smiles that dimpled his cheeks before gathering me close, his arms warm and strong around me. "I missed you."
I felt his lips on my hair and angled my head up. We kept our arms around each other as Harry answered my unvoiced request and kissed my lips. Once, twice, three times before holding me close to his chest again, a hug that simultaneously calmed me and made me feel like I could take on the world.
"Did you have fun with your mum?"
"Mhm." I didn't want to, but I pulled away from him. He turned around to check the waffle. "Got lots of clothes for work."
"Good," he said, cursing under his breath when he burned himself again. I couldn't help but laugh a little.
"How was the studio?" I asked, glancing back at him while I reached into the cabinet to grab plates.
"Not very productive today," he said, turning to set out the plate of waffles he'd already made. "There's bacon, too."
He grabbed a potholder and opened the oven to pull out a tray of sizzling bacon.
"Bless your heart," I said, watching as he set it down on the counter.
"I figured you'd be happy," he said, removing the oven mitt and lifting the waffle maker. "Last one."
I took forks and knives out of the drawer. "What do you want to drink?"
"Just water for me."
I grabbed the pitcher of water from the fridge and a couple glasses. Harry took the syrup out of the fridge and we sat together at the counter, smiling at our well-rounded dinner. He'd also already set out blueberries and strawberries, so it wasn't a complete loss of a meal.
At least, that's what we told ourselves.
"So what made today unproductive?" I asked a few minutes later, taking a bite of bacon.
Harry stuffed some waffle into his mouth and chewed for a few seconds before saying, "Dunno. None of us were really there today, felt like." He shrugged. "It happens."
"So, what'd you do?"
"Aside from torture ourselves trying for hours? Ate some food, drank lots of coffee, did a lot of talking."
"The waffles are delicious."
"Thank you."
"What'd you talk about?"
Harry shrugged again. "Lots of things."
He shoved more waffles into his mouth.
"Nothing specific?" I asked, though I didn't know exactly what I was getting at.
Harry looked at me, amusement lighting up his eyes. "Was there something specific you wanted us to talk about?"
"No, I just—nevermind." I took a bite of my own waffle.
He didn't push me, and we were quiet for a few beats. Then, he asked, "Where'd you and your mum go, just the mall?"
"Yeah, we hit a few stores."
Harry nodded. "What'd you two talk about?"
I looked at him, and we both smiled together. "Don't you mean what'd she talk about? Lord knows I barely get a word in."
Harry chuckled at that but nodded, knowing full well what my mother was like. And what I was like when I was with her.
We fell quiet again though, and it was in that silence that I felt bad. Sort of... guilty for not getting at what I wanted to with this conversation. I'd left my mother feeling like I had all these thoughts that I wanted to get out, all these things that I wanted to say. And Harry was the one person—the only person—I could and should be saying them to.
"What do you think about..."
I paused. He looked up at me, patient, thoughtful as ever as he chewed.
I didn't know why it made me so nervous. Why fear shot up in my chest like a wall between my heart and him. Why it felt like this even after the day I'd had today, where I'd spent most of it wanting to get home to talk to him.
But it did. And with each quiet second that passed, with each thought that formed, I chiseled away at that wall, waiting for the cracks, waiting for it to fall apart again.
When that took too long, I just blurted it out. "What do you think about trying again?"
Harry's eyes widened and he stopped chewing.
"I don't mean now," I hurried to say, my hand finding his knee when I noted that it most certainly was fear in his eyes. "Or even soon, if that's not what we want. I just mean generally. I—I just... I just want to know what you think about it. What your thoughts are."
He swallowed hard, his eyes shifting away from me before finding mine again. "Uh... did your mum say something?"
"No. Well... yes, but that's not why I'm asking. I—"
This was it. The moment of truth. The moment I wouldn't be able to come back from.
We'd so cleanly avoided this conversation for the last four months, but it wasn't one that should be avoided. Especially because we both knew that we absolutely wanted children.
At least, I was pretty sure we did. We hadn't ever really had a full, in-depth conversation about the miscarriage or about how we were feeling as we moved away from it, back into the flow of our every day lives. I didn't really know how it had affected Harry—what he might be thinking or feeling about wanting kids going forward.
Maybe he wouldn't want them anytime soon. We were both young after all. We had plenty of time. Maybe he would feel like we rushed with this first one. We'd only been married a few months before we'd started trying. Maybe he would want to wait a good while longer before trying again.
Or maybe... maybe he wouldn't want kids at all anymore.
I didn't know how to broach this gently with him. We'd wasted months already while I tried to find a way to ease us into this when I wasn't putting it off completely.
It was all or nothing now.
"Look, I—I know we haven't really talked about... everything, and I know it's not easy to. But... I just—do you—"
But it was hard. So much harder than it should've been considering we'd been through this together. Considering we loved each other. Considering we were always patient and kind with one another when it came to discussing difficult things.
Harry grabbed my hand, held it atop the counter. I glanced at our fingers joined together and took a breath, taking from him the strength he was wordlessly giving me.
"I just don't know how much longer we can go without talking about these things," I said quietly. I tried to smile for the next part, "We're having sex with condoms again for Christ's sake. We can't do that forever."
It helped that he smiled, breathed a laugh, too.
"So, I just want to know where your head's at. If you've thought about it. How you're feeling about everything that's already happened. Whether we—"
"Mads?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll tell you if you let me." His grin was crooked.
"Right," I said, feeling my cheeks warm. "Go ahead."
It was his turn to take a deep breath, and I gave his fingers a squeeze, sort of glad that I wasn't the only one having trouble opening up about this.
"I, uh..." He stared at his half-eaten plate of waffles. Breathed another laugh. Then rubbed an eye with one finger, his ring catching the light. "I don't know why this is so hard."
"I know," I said, laughing too. It felt good to laugh. To release just a little bit of the tension. The anticipation. "That's why we've avoided it for so long."
He sniffed once and clenched his jaw. Determined. "I think, for me, it's partly because even though we've talked about leaning on each other, it—it still hasn't felt... It still hasn't felt right for me to lean on you. Given what you went through last time, I—I just... It felt wrong. Like I'd be putting more on you, making things worse for you if I told you every emotion I've had these last few months."
He couldn't have known how hard that was for me to hear. How hard it was to feel like I couldn't be there for my husband because he was still trying to protect me, even though he had no one to protect him. The guilt it caused.
"But Harry, I—"
"I know, I know, we're supposed to be there for each other, I get it. I know that's what you said, and I know you want me to lay it all on you. But I can't help it, that's the way I feel. But you're right. We need to start talking about things, and I think it's really helped both of us to have a few months where we've been busy getting back to work, and talking to people, and getting outside of our heads everyday." He looked at me, held a hand to his chest. "At least, it's helped me."
"It's helped me, too," I was quick to say. "Definitely."
"I can tell. I think we're definitely seeing that in each other, and..." He paused, licked his lips, looked so thoughtful, I had to stop myself from reaching out and kissing him. Because I could tell that he'd carefully chosen each word just now. He wasn't saying anything just to say it. He meant every single one of them. And he wasn't going to waste any now.
"And I think... I think it would be best, for both of us, to wait a little bit longer before we think about trying for another baby." He said it carefully, looking into my eyes only at the last second—like he was afraid of my reaction.
I was simultaneously relieved and more scared than I'd been before. Because that didn't answer all of my questions.
But just as I was about to voice another one, he went on, "I—I just..." He turned more fully towards me in his seat, so I swiveled towards him too. Both of his hands fell to my knees. His grip on them was warm through my jeans. "I had no frame of reference before—for how hard dealing with this kind of loss would be."
He wasn't meeting my eye.
"I knew it was difficult, obviously. Tragic for those who've been through it. Entirely life-changing. But even knowing all that, you can never be ready for that kind of change, y'know?" He looked up at me, then seemed to think better of what he was saying. "Of course you do. You've been through it twice now."
"No, I—" I laid my hands on top of his. He curled our fingers together. "I know what you mean. It's—it's not something you can really understand until you've been through it."
Harry blew out a breath. "And to know where it brought you last time, how dark things got for you... I understand now. Considering your circumstances then, I can really understand how it got so bad." Again, he paused. Looked thoughtful enough that I could see him sliding inside himself, inch by inch, and just when I was ready to ask him to open up, to let me see that place inside of him, he did.
"It hurt more than I ever could've imagined," he murmured, his eyes filling, his lips pressing together. "To get so excited, and see your future, all your dreams coming to life. To feel so much happiness and love, and then to have it just—"
Harry shook his head, biting his bottom lip as he fought tears. There was heat behind my eyes, too.
He sniffed. Looked down at our joined hands once more. I was squeezing harder than I realized.
"And then there was so much worry. Worry about how we would tell everyone. Knowing we wouldn't have had to if I'd just listened to you when you said we should wait. Worry for you, and how it would affect you. What I should do to help. If I should try to talk to you, or leave you alone. Worry over how you'd feel if I were to pour out all the ways it was hurting me."
Tears rolled down my cheeks. He somehow managed to keep his own from falling.
Harry smiled at me then, and untangled one of his hands from mine to gently wipe my cheeks.
"And then of course there was worry for the future. When, if we'd ever be ready to face this again—to try again."
I sniffled, trying to hold it together, trying not to acknowledge the fear that was working its way up in my chest because of what he was saying. What he was implying.
"So, I'm sorry," he said. "For leaving you in the dark so long."
"Me too," I said quietly. "For not prying all this out of you sooner."
He laughed lightly. "It probably would've come out a lot sooner if I couldn't tell how much better you were getting. Or if I didn't feel better myself." He wiped away another tear as it fell.
"But you don't think we're ready," I said, needing to make sure. Needing to know we were on the same page.
Harry looked fearful, but shook his head. "Do you?"
"No," I said, feeling certain—more certain now that I knew that at least in this, we were in agreement. "But... do you—I mean, do you still..."
I struggled to get it out, to look at him and ask this question that I was so afraid to hear the answer to. He'd been so hurt. He'd just said how much losing this baby had hurt him, and he'd dealt with it alone because of me. I couldn't blame him if he didn't ever want to try again. If he wanted to forget the whole thing.
"What?" he nudged, his voice soft, almost placating.
"Does that mean that you don't—that you wouldn't—"
One second, Harry's brows were bunched together, trying to understand, and then in the next, they shot up as his eyes widened, as he understood completely.
"That I wouldn't want a baby at all?" he asked, incredulous.
Fear already edging away, still, all I was able to do was nod.
"Mads, no," he said, reaching up to grip my shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I mean... Of course I want to have a baby."
The relief was sweet as air after spending too long underwater.
"God," he breathed, his grip strong on my shoulders as he pulled me closer, his arms stronger as he hugged me. His breath was hot on my neck. "Of course I do."
I hugged him just as tight.
"Of course I do, Madelyn," he whispered again, then breathed a laugh into the crook of my neck. "I've dreamed of you as the mother of my children for too long to let it go just like that."
Heart swelling, I laughed, too, and pulled away to look him in the eye. "Okay. Glad we're on the same page."
"Did you really think we wouldn't be?" he asked, searching my eyes seeming half-amused and half-concerned.
I shrugged. "I didn't know. We haven't talked enough about it for me to really get a sense of where your head was at all this time. I had to be sure."
"Well, rest assured forever, my girl. Nothing will change the fact that I want to have babies with you."
Gripping his hands again, I felt like I'd just come out the other side of a very long journey. One where I'd stumbled and fallen and hurt myself so badly I didn't know if I'd ever be able to make it to the end. But here I was, bruised and bloody, but whole, and still holding his hand.
"Right back'atcha," I said, tangling my leg with his. I breathed deeply before saying, "So, we'll wait a little bit longer."
"Just a little bit," Harry clarified.
"And in the meantime? We can't keep using condoms, but I'm scared to start up my birth control again."
He didn't ask why, he didn't make me feel silly or stupid for the way I was feeling, he only pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "Have you talked to your doctor about other options?"
I didn't like the idea of having anything permanently inside my body either, which I was gearing up to say, but Harry beat me with his next thought.
"Or we can just pay more attention to your cycle." He grinned. "Do it the old-fashioned way. Only use the condoms if it's too risky."
I thought about it. "That could work, but... but are you sure you're okay with that?"
"It's your choice more than mine," he said. "I want you to be comfortable."
"I want us both to be comfortable. That could work for me if it's alright with you."
"It's fine with me."
"I just—I'd rather my body do it's thing naturally from now on. So that when we do decide to start trying again, there's no adjustment period."
"I get it."
"When do you think we'll decide again? Like... how much time do you think you'll need?"
Harry started to chuckle. "I don't know. A few more months?"
"That's it?"
"Should I need more time than that?" He looked thoroughly amused.
"No, I'm just wondering. Just trying to get an idea." He looked at me in a way that made me feel beautiful, even though I probably sounded like I was losing it. "Just because I'm definitely not ready now, but I don't want to let fear stop us or slow us down when we are ready, y'know? Because I—somehow I still look at our future with so much... with so much hope in my heart, despite everything, and—and that's how I want us to go into this next experience. With hope."
He looked at me like he was so in love, he didn't know what to do with it.
And I didn't know what to do with that except grin bashfully. Except note the way it made my heart race to watch him lean in, to anticipate his lips on mine.
They were warm, soft as ever, and his mouth tasted like syrup. His hands were gentle, but still strong on my jaw. He kissed me patiently, thoroughly, but it was over before I knew it.
Harry's smile had my stomach doing somersaults as he looked from my lips to my eyes, then repeated, "With hope."
___
Author's Note:
I don't know about you, but this chapter was like a breath of fresh air for me! It was so nice to see them spell it all out for each other... FINALLY! So I really hope you liked it. And I hope you'll let me know your thoughts with a comment. Or just a vote if you're not feeling too chatty.
I don't have much to say today, so I'll just let you know one last time that this is the LAST DAY that my book "Trace the Edges" is on sale on Amazon!!! This is your last chance to get the ebook for $1.99 if you haven't already. And if you have gotten it (and read it), I hope you'll consider leaving a review on the Amazon page. It would be incredibly helpful in getting the book noticed by lots of other people if it has more reviews!
And my enthusiastic beta readers who haven't actually done any beta reading for me yet because I'm a procrastinator... I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN AND I'M SORRY IT'S TAKING ME SO LONG. But you WILL be hearing from me soon. Promise.
Lots and lots of love to everyone for always showing me so much love!! I appreciate it more than you know. Have the BEST two weeks!!! xxx