First story in a very long time
I apologize ahead of time, this is clumsily done, as I have never been pregnant, let alone had a miscarriage, so I don't actually understand how one is affected emotionally, but I hope everyone realizes I did it with the purest intentions in mind.
She lost the baby a week after Marcus left. Her mother cited stress, but the truth was, the only thing Lesley had felt when he was gone was relief. For the past two months he had been treating her like she had contracted a horrible disease and wanted no part in it, despite the baby being his responsibility as well as hers. She supposed it was impossible to convince a eighteen-year-old boy to take up duties beyond beating his best friend at Halo.
The doctor said there could have been many reasons she had miscarried, especially at her age. It seemed that even her body agreed with everyone around her, she was simply too young to be a mother. She had agreed with them in the beginning, watching her dreams for the future become hazy and distant, but as time passed her stubborn nature proved dominant, and she began to the embrace the idea in direct defiance of their disdain and disappointment. This was her chance to do something right, for perhaps the first time in her life.
Now she had failed at motherhood, managing to screw things up before the baby had even been born. The sting of shame and disappointment in herself was almost as sharp as the loss of the child she would never meet.
She recovered much too fast for her to accept. The loss of an entire life should warrant more physical suffering. The school counselor had warned her mother that though her daughter’s body had already set itself to rights, Lesley’s emotions would perhaps take much longer, and what she needed most was love and support. Lesley’s mother, however, was convinced that she had succeeded as a parent for the last sixteen years, and this was just another hurtle to be overcome with a vice-like grip on emotions, and no tolerance for sentimentality.
It was only with clever lies and manipulation that Lesley was able to make the trek to the small stream that ran through the woods just outside of town. There, she could sit on a large flat rock and dangle her feet in the sluggish water. Oddly, it was Marcus that leapt to the front of her thoughts first, not the baby. She knew he had never been father material, but he had been a friend, one of her better ones, and it was almost too much for her to think that he had buckled under the stress of impending fatherhood and fled. His abandonment was only a distant and dull throb somewhere deep in her being, anger constant, but manageable.
Close on its father’s heels, the baby came to her mind. Her mother might have considered it foolish to mourn for something that had never been, but Lesley didn’t care. She had sensed the life inside of her. She regretted the sense of panic that had haunted her most days, but knew that even if she had the opportunity to do it over, she would still be scared.
She kicked her feet in the water, and watched the disturbed pattern of the current drift away from her. She mused about what she would have done if the baby had lived; she hadn’t yet decided if keeping it or giving it up for adoption was the better option. Her mother leaned heavily in the direction of adoption, but Lesley knew on some level that she wasn’t willing to give up her chance to shine, to correct the things that her own mother had gotten wrong.
One day she might have the chance again, when she was older and more prepared, able to take care of someone else beside herself, with someone who would stick with her. Until then, she could only focus on creating the person she needed to be in order to accomplish her goals. Lesley stood up and slipped her sandals back on her feet, watching the stream’s glittering surface for just a moment longer before turning back and heading for town.
She lost the baby a week after Marcus left. Her mother cited stress, but the truth was, the only thing Lesley had felt when he was gone was relief. For the past two months he had been treating her like she had contracted a horrible disease and wanted no part in it, despite the baby being his responsibility as well as hers. She supposed it was impossible to convince a eighteen-year-old boy to take up duties beyond beating his best friend at Halo.
The doctor said there could have been many reasons she had miscarried, especially at her age. It seemed that even her body agreed with everyone around her, she was simply too young to be a mother. She had agreed with them in the beginning, watching her dreams for the future become hazy and distant, but as time passed her stubborn nature proved dominant, and she began to the embrace the idea in direct defiance of their disdain and disappointment. This was her chance to do something right, for perhaps the first time in her life.
Now she had failed at motherhood, managing to screw things up before the baby had even been born. The sting of shame and disappointment in herself was almost as sharp as the loss of the child she would never meet.
She recovered much too fast for her to accept. The loss of an entire life should warrant more physical suffering. The school counselor had warned her mother that though her daughter’s body had already set itself to rights, Lesley’s emotions would perhaps take much longer, and what she needed most was love and support. Lesley’s mother, however, was convinced that she had succeeded as a parent for the last sixteen years, and this was just another hurtle to be overcome with a vice-like grip on emotions, and no tolerance for sentimentality.
It was only with clever lies and manipulation that Lesley was able to make the trek to the small stream that ran through the woods just outside of town. There, she could sit on a large flat rock and dangle her feet in the sluggish water. Oddly, it was Marcus that leapt to the front of her thoughts first, not the baby. She knew he had never been father material, but he had been a friend, one of her better ones, and it was almost too much for her to think that he had buckled under the stress of impending fatherhood and fled. His abandonment was only a distant and dull throb somewhere deep in her being, anger constant, but manageable.
Close on its father’s heels, the baby came to her mind. Her mother might have considered it foolish to mourn for something that had never been, but Lesley didn’t care. She had sensed the life inside of her. She regretted the sense of panic that had haunted her most days, but knew that even if she had the opportunity to do it over, she would still be scared.
She kicked her feet in the water, and watched the disturbed pattern of the current drift away from her. She mused about what she would have done if the baby had lived; she hadn’t yet decided if keeping it or giving it up for adoption was the better option. Her mother leaned heavily in the direction of adoption, but Lesley knew on some level that she wasn’t willing to give up her chance to shine, to correct the things that her own mother had gotten wrong.
One day she might have the chance again, when she was older and more prepared, able to take care of someone else beside herself, with someone who would stick with her. Until then, she could only focus on creating the person she needed to be in order to accomplish her goals. Lesley stood up and slipped her sandals back on her feet, watching the stream’s glittering surface for just a moment longer before turning back and heading for town.