It had been a pretty uneventful pregnancy--my first. Now fully dilated, and in my second hour of hard labor, I screamed out as another contraction washed over me. Jakob and I had waited until we had our careers firmly established before starting our family. Jakob now owned his own construction firm, and had just landed a major contract--building townhouses in a gated community on the up-and-coming east side of Silver Creek. I, on the other hand, had just published my first novel--a semi-autobiographical mystery romance. The timing could not have been more perfect to begin our family.

I could feel the baby crowning between my legs. The strain only amplified and intensified the anguish I endured. My stomach muscles burned, and my back ached with soreness. The nurses tried--in vain--to make my ragged breathing more rhythmic, but I couldn't think clearly enough to actually do the exercises I had been taught in Lamaze. My abdomen contracted almost involuntarily, causing intense jolts of agony to course throughout my entire body. Exhausted, I cried out out for the one person I desperately needed to comfort me--my beloved Jakob. Sweat poured from my body and rolled down my back, soaking my gown and the bed. The intense, searing heat radiating from my body helped to moderate the chill of my sweat. Each contraction darkened the peripheries of my vision with pain. Jakob pleaded with me to keep pushing. With Herculean strength, I took in as much air as I could. Bearing down as hard as I could, I gave one final push. Screaming like a banshee, I felt her slide out of my birth canal at last.

"It's a girl!" the doctor announced.

My baby. My Stephanie!

Relief washed over me. Jakob smiled, his eyes dancing merrily.

I felt faint and weak from the ordeal.

I need to see her. Hold her. Bond with her.

I heard the water spray as they cleansed her. I heard her first cries--albeit weakly--then nothing. Time passed, and the silence became deafening.

"Stephanie?" I cried out weakly. "Where's my little girl?"

I could see the doctors huddled in the corner, mutely whispering to Jakob. What's happening?!?

"Jakob?" I called. "JAKOB!"

I drew in another breath, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

"Where's Stephanie? I WANT MY BABY!!"

Jakob slowly moved towards me, his eyes narrow and glazed with shock--and sorrow--or did I see terror??

"What's wrong? Jakob? TELL ME, DAMMIT! I WANT TO SEE STEPHANIE. NOW!!"

He just held my hand, trembling and crying as the doctors wheeled Stephanie out of the room, towards the neonatal unit.

The pain of delivery, and of having my precious child torn from me so abruptly became unbearable. I passed out from exhaustion and shock.

Hours later, I came to in the intensive care unit. I had hemorrhaged during the ejection of the placenta, and had almost bled out. Jakob shared my rare blood type, and had quickly volunteered to give me enough of his own blood that, combined with fluids and donated plasma, stabilized me. Although still weakened by the ordeal, he somehow managed to be by my side when I awoke. The intense sadness in his eyes frightened me. I had seen that sadness just one time before.

"Stephanie's sick, 'Lice," he began in a deadpan monotone, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "She's dying. She's undergoing surgery right now to fix a heart defect, but the doctors aren't very optimistic. She has two pinholes in her heart, and the leaking blood has put a lot of strain on the sac surrounding it."

Why was I being cursed again? I questioned. I had lost my first love, Stephen (Jakob's older brother), tragically ten years ago. I wasn't there in his hour of need, and before I could get back to him, he had ended his life. Now, I felt like I was being punished all over again. Please, God, I prayed silently. I've suffered enough heartache. You took Steven away from me. Don't take Stephanie too...

The nurse came in then, and saw me wracked in sobs. "I'm sorry, Mr. Steele," she said, "but your wife's been through quite an ordeal already, and we need to sedate her, and shield her from any further shocks. You'll have to leave now."

For only the second time in my life, I saw my soulmate, Jakob, cry. He slowly released my hand, and kissed me gently on the forehead. "I'll always love you", he whispered, as the fluid from the IV coursed through my veins, leading me to a hollow slumber, devoid of dreams.

They kept me in a coma for two weeks. When I finally awoke, Jakob grabbed my hand, tenderly caressing it. He had obviously been crying, as the reddened streaks and puffiness belied his attempts to comfort me. His sallow face only renewed my fears. The worst has happened, I realized, to my horror.

"No!" I screamed, pushing Jakob away--hard. As the tears welled up within me, I heard a silent "I'm so sorry". Darkness entombed me again as the sedatives once again took effect.

When I awoke the next morning, the doctor cleared me to leave the hospital. "But first," he cautioned, "I want to to talk with Ms. Sanchez, our resident grief counselor. She can help you learn to cope with your tragic loss, and make the necessary arrangements for the funeral."

FUNERAL. The word sounded so final. I never held my precious Stephanie Anne. I never bonded with her, as only a mother and child could.

I'm a sky the Sun has forever abandoned.

I had so much pent up rage and guilt that I couldn't even concentrate on the task at hand. I just idly flipped through the books, blankly staring at caskets. I allowed Ms. Sanchez to make all the decisions on my behalf, too numb to even focus. She picked out a basic pine coffin--nondescript--and a lovely pale yellow-orange--ZELANGA, the designer called it--burial gown.

They buried Stephanie the next day, in a small plot next to her uncle and namesake, Steven. I felt my heart break for the second time...

~~~ === o.0.O.0.o === ~~~

After the funeral, I grew more and more withdrawn and depressed. I rarely left the house, unless ABSOLUTELY necessary. I completely shut down--mentally, physically, emotionally, socially, and sexually. Life became a chore--a chore I aimlessly plodded through.

As I lay awake one night contemplating just why I even bothered any more, I began to doze off. As I drifted into the realm of twilight, I heard a soft, angelic voice call out to me.

"Why are you...HERE?" it asked.

I turned to see where from whence the voice came, and beheld HER. Her glow lit up the night sky, and her pale yellow-orange gown glistened, accentuating her radiant beauty.

Like the voice of a thousand robins in the spring, she began again. "Why are you...HERE?"

She pointed, and I found myself at Stephanie's grave, tears streaming down my face.

"You have to MOVE. You can't just stay HERE, grieving forever. Even if it's only sideways--or sometimes backward--MOVE, Mom."

The last word echoed in my mind and permeated the very core of my heart. She had called me MOM. "Stephanie?" I cried, as the angel began to fade.

"MOVE!" echoed the whispered reply, as she faded from view.

~~~ === o.0.O.0.o === ~~~

I totally lost it then, as the emotions I had withheld for too long overwhelmed me. A monsoon had come to the Sahara, and a deep and utter blackness swept over me, enveloping me like Death's shroud. I felt such unending pain and sorrow--I couldn't fathom the depths of my grief and loss. Had Stephanie REALLY come in my twilight dream to comfort me?

Jakob--Bless him!--tried--hard--to help pull me back from my pit of despair, but I remained inconsolable. Finally, in desperation, he did the only thing he could think of--contact Ms. Sanchez. In a matter of hours, she arranged a nice homeopathic crisis intervention facility for me to attend as an inpatient.

At first, I attended group counseling sessions. I couldn't bring myself to participate--the pain felt too fresh--to RAW and REAL. I just sat in a corner, catatonic, crying.

After about twenty minutes, I felt a gentle, warm, comforting hand brush my shoulder. "It's OK to grieve," she soothed. "Everyone here has suffered some kind of tragedy. The pain, eventually, lessens."

I looked up from my crying fit to see a rather pixieish woman in her early thirties handing me a box of tissues. "Hi," she smiled, extending her hand while introducing herself. "I'm Dawn. Dawn Summers. Care to talk about it? While I don't know, EXACTLY, what you're going through, I'm willing to listen, and give you a shoulder to shed your tears on..."

I don't know why, but I felt a kindred spirit with her--a connection--like I could trust her and open up. I reached up and took the proffered hand. Once steady on my feet, she embraced me with one of the warmest hugs I had felt in a VERY LONG time. As she held me there, gently cooing in my ear and softly stroking my back, I felt my sobs subside.

"Alicia," I stuttered, still choked up. "Alicia Steele. Sorry about my breakdown. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she replied warmly. "We've ALL been there at one point or another. While you will never FORGET your loss, I--no WE--," she said, indicating the entire group, "Can help you move forward and learn to cope with your grief and sadness."

Dawn quickly became my ally, support, and sounding board. Over the next few weeks, I told her everything about Stephanie--including her twilight visit. As I opened up to her, I felt my pain diminish and my mood change. My appetite returned--slowly--and I began to heal.

After four weeks, I got word of my impending released. I rushed to the cafeteria to tell Dawn the good news. I found her sitting alone at a corner table, reading a newspaper. She motioned for me to sit. Taking the chair closest to her, I excitedly told her my news. When I had finished, she handed me a business card. Dawn Summers, LCSW, it read.

"You LIED to me?" I accused. "After I opened up to you? I told you EVERYTHING. I feel betrayed. Used. How could you?"

"I never lied to you, Alicia," she stated. "Just because I didn't tell you who I really am doesn't mean I betrayed you. You needed a FRIEND--someone to open up to--to share your pain with. Someone to help you begin to heal."

"You still betrayed my trust!"

"How? Would you have opened up yo me so freely if you had known? I offered you friendship openly, honestly, and without reservation or deception. I still intend to be that friend. In that regard, I didn't lie. As to betraying you--look how far you've come since we first met. You're no longer in a catatonic stupor, crying endless tears. You've opened up and blossomed. Yo no longer simply exist, but have actually begun to live--LIVE--again. Stephanie would be proud at how you are, only now, just beginning to honor her memory."

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a flaw in her logic. "OK, then, where do we go from here?" I questioned.

"You'll still attend group sessions on an outpatient basis, twice a week. I'll meet with you every Friday, to monitor your progress and discuss any problems you might face."

~~~ === o.0.O.0.o === ~~~

It took me almost a year, but I eventually recovered enough from my loss to begin writing again. It hadn't been easy, but my bi-weekly support group had helped me cope. I researched Stephanie's condition, and learned quite a bit. Jakob began noticing my change for the better, and praised me often. Normalcy had returned in my life.

Being so caught up in my own little world, I failed to notice that I had completely forgotten our anniversary. I had been at a session with Dawn, and when I returned, Jakob had decked out the dining room with all our finery. A silk cloth draped the table, and he had laid out the Swarovski wine goblets, the Princess Gold china, and the silver candlesticks Mom had given us as a wedding gift. Why, he had even spread saffron crocus petals from the front door to my chair in the dining room!

I smiled in awe, impressed by his thoughtfulness.

Being a gourmand and former sous chef, Jakob had created an exquisite dinner for us--canard a l'orange and haricots verts. A bottle of Pinot Noir sat chilling in a silver ice bucket to the side. Since he had gone through so much trouble to make dinner special, I decided then and there to make dessert equally enjoyable for him...

About eight weeks after our anniversary, I discovered, much to my surprise and delight, that I was pregnant. I felt like the Fates were finally smiling down on me, and THIS TIME, I'd do everything right by my baby.

When I told Jakob the news, his face lit up brighter than Las Vegas at night. Happiness once again ruled our household, as we could at last be a family. While I knew in my heart of hearts that no one could ever take the place of my dear Stephanie, I looked forward to bringing this new life into the world.

For the first couple of weeks, my emotions ran quite high. My hormones and paranoia made me a venerable basket case. Everything I saw on TV or read in books, newspapers, or magazines alluded to things that could be detrimental to a developing fetus. Caffeine can harm development, so out went the coffee maker--much to Jakob's chagrin. Mercury in seafood leads to low birth weight and mental impairment--OK, all the canned fish got trashed. I walked daily on eggshells. I even had my Ob/Gyn on speed dial--just in case.

By the time of my first wellness check, my nerves had gotten to me and had made me a complete and utter wreck. When the technician placed the ultrasound device on my abdomen, I could hear the rapid WHOOSH! WHOOSH! of the heartbeat. Wait! Was that NORMAL?

"What a strong, healthy heartbeat!" Dr. Samuelson stated, as if reading my thoughts. "I don't foresee any problems at the present. When you come in next month, I'll draw some fluid from the birth cavity to make sure the baby's healthy, and to determine your child's sex. Until then, just relax and enjoy being pregnant..."

Easier said than done Doc, I thought. After all, I DID lose Stephanie just shy of a year ago. I DON'T want to lose this child too..

At my next visit, the doctor performed an amniocentesis--a "fluid draw"--for testing. She informed me that the results would be back in about two weeks, and that she'd give me a call as soon as they came in.

Two weeks of waiting nervously did NOTHING to ease my growing paranoia. My mind ran rampant with morbid thoughts: What if something is wrong with my baby? I thought. Can I handle THAT? Will I love my baby like I loved Stephanie? Can I keep it safe, and will it go to term?

I know I must have snapped at Jakob--my beloved husband--at least a dozen times. Towards the end of the two weeks, he actually cringed every time I called his name.

Finally, when I thought I could endure no more, the doctor called.

"Looks like you can go ahead and paint the nursery blue," she stated. "In a little over five months, you're going to have a son."

A SON! Jakob beamed. I gushed. Finally, we had come full circle, and our family would soon be complete!

The pregnancy itself proceeded pretty much uneventfully from then onward. My hormones evened out, and life became bearable again for Jakob--at least I HOPED so... I still attended my group sessions, but only once a month. I tried--in vain--to hide my ever-growing "baby bump", but eventually Dawn noticed. She naturally congratulated me.

About a week later, she called me--out of the blue--and asked if I could make an emergency counseling session the following Wednesday. I asked Jakob, and, after checking his schedule--and realizing that I really had nothing better to do--I said I would. She told me she'd pick me up personally about two o'clock.

The "surprise" session turned out to be a baby shower. One present I opened stood out the most in my mind--the christening gown. I had only seen one other like it--the one Ms. Sanchez and I had picked out for Stephanie's funeral. A flood of raw emotions enveloped me as the grief once again took hold of me. Tears fell like rain, blinding me. My body shook uncontrollably as the sobs wracked me. Despair enshrouded every fiber of my being, and the dark, unyielding clouds of misery and guilt threatened to encompass everyone in their wake. I had to get away. I hadn't WANTED to see her since the funeral. Why did I abandon her to that cold, lonely grave? How could I say I loved her when I haven't even seen her?

I told Dawn my thoughts. She called her intern and advised her to take over. We then excused ourselves, and walked outside.

"So," Dawn began, apprehension evident in her voice. "What do you want to do, Alicia? I could take you some place a little less festive--someplace we could sit and talk, perhaps?"

"I don't think talking would help," I said, as tears streamed down my face. "Stephanie's funeral was a year ago. TODAY. If anything, I should be with her, not having a party."

"I'm sorry," Dawn said weakly. "I didn't know. We can go see her, if you really want to."

"I'd like that," I said through my tears. She just held me, and slowly led me to the waiting car--and a trip to a place I didn't want (but really needed) to go.

~~~---===o.0.O.0.o===---~~~

I wept bitterly as we drove to the cemetery. Seeing the christening gown brought all the anguish I had deeply buried flooding back. What can I say to someone whose memory I buried along with her tiny body?

Without warning, Dawn suddenly made a left-hand turn onto Sycamore Street. What is she doing? I questioned. The cemetery's the other direction, a block up on Elm.

As if to answer my silent question, Dawn stated that it wouldn't be appropriate to pay our respects without some kind of flowers. She pulled into a florist, and motioned for me to get out as well. She really thought of everything. I wonder...

As I got out of the car, I heard a peal of thunder in the distance as the sky suddenly became overcast. A light breeze had begun, and I could taste the approaching rain. Grabbing quickly for the door handle, Dawn ushered me inside.

The sights and smells assaulted my senses. Flowers blossomed in every color of the rainbow, and the scent rivaled the finest French perfumeries.

"May I help you ladies?" the owner asked, eager to make a sale.

"We need something to commemorate the loss of a young child," Dawn advised. "A girl. I thought roses might be appropriate."

"I see," he said. "Right this way, please."

He led us down row after row of flora, until he stopped abruptly in front of a huge refrigerated case. "These just came in this morning," he beamed. "They're the highest quality candy cane roses we've ever offered."

"They're LOVELY!" gushed Dawn. "What do you think, Alicia?"

"I don't know," I said. "I need something--special."

I walked up the next row and saw some lilacs. Stephanie would have loved lilacs. But they somehow seemed too plain for my tastes.

Next, were the chrysanthemums. I could just picture Stephanie picking the petals in endless games of "He loves me; he loves me not".

I felt like I was getting nowhere. Nothing I saw seemed special enough for my beloved Stephanie.

I turned a corner and saw PERFECTION--like Stephanie herself--the most beautiful ruby-tipped peach rose I'd ever seen. The same color as Stephanie's receiving blanket--the same color as her burial gown.

"THAT'S IT!" I saw the potential this bud could bring--the happiness in the midst of my turmoil... Dawn and the florist came running. "I MUST have THIS rose. Stephanie sent it to me. I KNOW IT!"

"You're in luck. That's the last one we have in the shop."

"I'll take it!"

"If you don't mind me asking," the florist quizzed, "How old was she when she passed?"

"Two weeks. Stephanie was only two weeks old. Today makes one year..."

The shopkeeper reached out to hand me the rose. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Ma'am. With my blessing. For Stephanie."

We left the shop just as a light drizzle began to fall. Dawn assured me that this time, we were headed to the cemetery.

Dawn and I slowly made our way to Stephanie. Kneeling, I laid the rose on her grave, along with my tear-stained handkerchief.

"For me?" a melodic voice questioned.

"Stephanie?"

"I'm here, Mom. And I love you."

"I love you, too. I'm sorry," I began.

"You carry me daily in your heart. I don't feel forgotten."

"I never even got a chance to hold you."

"You've never let go. You need to do that now."

"But Stephanie," I wailed, "what if I'm not ready?"

"You'll be fine." she answered as she began to fade.

"I love you, Stephanie."

"I love you both..."

As she faded in a flash of light, I began dusting myself off.

For the second time since her funeral, Stephanie had spoken to me, comforting me. Am I going crazy? Did it really happen? What do I do now?

Dawn saw the dazed look on my face as I turned to walk back to the car.

"We need to talk..." I breathed.

====================================================================
Author's Note:

OK. I know it's been well over a month since I posted the beginnings of this story. As many of you know, I have SERIOUS health issues that occasionally flare up that cause me to spend time in ICU. I've just returned from another stay, only to find out that my care giver had decided to move me to another home. So with the hospital and move, I've had little time to do much else. This chapter was set to post April 7th, but was delayed. I hope you enjoy it.

* Kisses always,*
Haylee V
====================================================================