Free Infinity's Daughter by Jeremy Laszlo

pregnant again; I couldn’t bear another loss. And quite honestly, I didn’t think I would survive it. And all was well, and we both began to heal between each other, until the news came. Two years after losing Edward, I found myself again with child. It came like a kick in the gut.
    “Sam,” I said to him. I was sitting on the bed in a little negligee, my feet tucked underneath me, staring back out the window of our chamber. “I can’t do this again.”
    Sam wanted so badly for us to have another child, to have us become a family again. His biggest fear was my falling back into another depression, should anything happen, wrestling with torment and death. He was torn between two realities, and he didn’t know how to respond.
    “Lucy,” he said softly, placing his hand on my back, “what about hope? We have to have hope. This child could live, and we could have a family again—a beautiful, wonderful family.”
    I furrowed my brow. “You don’t think I want that too?” My eyes began to well up with tears. “I’m just so afraid,” I whispered, “if this child dies, and there’s such a risk that it will happen, I think I will lose myself. And I don’t think I will come back…” I sniffled, choking back a cry. “I don’t have any hope anymore.”
    Sam held me, and began to weep softly against my neck. I could feel his hot tears against my skin, the wetness sinking into his mustache.
    “Darling,” he whispered again, “the only other option is just as dangerous, you know that.” He wiped his eyes, then pulling me closer. “If I lost you and our child…I…I…” He couldn’t finish.
    “You could lose me too while giving birth,” I said flatly, tears drying on my cheeks. “I was so lucky last time, but you know the risk. You know what can happen.”
    He tucked his head into his chest and clung to me, sinking his head into my breasts. I could feel his body trembling as he choked back quiet sobs. Without any option, without almost any hope, the pregnancy continued, and I soon became heavy with child again. Each day, as my belly grew and I could feel the life forming inside of me, I found myself wishing for a miscarriage; against God, against my family, and against Sam. The joy and excitement we had felt before when I was pregnant with Edward had turned to fear and dismay. It was a sullen hope that was laced with pain and suffering. Any dreams were tarnished with the blood of reality. Even Sam, in his fear of losing the baby and me, became reticent. He was still unconditionally supportive, but in a distant, haunted way. What was hidden by his actions, I could see in his eyes. Each day the inevitable grew closer, he became more fraught with fear.
    Adelle once again became my saving grace. She brought the girls from the reading group over to help me redecorate Edward’s room. She said blissfully, “We cannot run from the past, we can only wash the slate clean and start over.”
    I had insisted that the room not be touched since his passing. Besides in my night terrors, I did not go in the room often. It brought back too many memories. Standing there, in the room with her, and his little teddy bear and tiny crib, I felt numb. I didn’t know what was happening, and I didn’t know where I belonged. My turn of the century paradise that had come to feel more like home than my own time now felt stale and meaningless. I felt like a nomad, traveling between universes without any real purpose, without any real hope. I was merely existing.
    We swapped out the furniture, not wanting any of the sickness that took Edward to linger, and possibly harm our child in the making. The book club girls were so wonderful. They scrubbed the walls and floors, and even hired a painter to come in and freshen things up. They went with a light yellow, not knowing the sex of the child, and being able to tailor the room to however we pleased. I had tea and cakes with them, and I helped, as I was able. Eventually, they convinced me