An Empty Feeling

I got the name of one who came highly recommended. My only problem was to convince Heather she needed to go.

"Why the hell should I talk to someone who's never gone through what I have? I'm dealing with it, it's just going to take a little more time that's all."

"Heather, I love you with all my heart and soul but honey, you're not getting better. I want the old Heather back, the girl I married."

"Steve, that Heather is dead, buried along with our son, and isn't coming back."

"Don't you want to at least try? Won't you do it for me? For us?"

She emphatically said no the first ten times I asked her. Then it was just no and finally maybe. We eventually made a deal, if she went and didn't think it was helping her she could stop going and I'd never bring it up again.

Heather was right; Dr Roberta Cummings had never miscarried but still she was empathetic to how Heather was feeling. They talked for weeks and I never once asked her how it was going, or what they were talking about. It had been months since we'd made love or even held one another for that matter. It was driving me nuts but I was in it for the long haul. Every night we would go to bed at about the same time, she on her side me on mine. It was a rarity to even get a peck on the lips before rolling over to sleep, and you could forget about any cuddling or touching.

Months, four damn months and nothing was getting any better. Then something happened that jarred our lives—her younger sister Vicki got pregnant. If I thought it was bad before it suddenly got a whole lot worse. Vicki and her new husband had hidden the fact she was pregnant from us for almost five and a half months, but when she really started to show, she told us at a Sunday family dinner.

"I'm happy for the two of you," was about all Heather said. We left for home shortly after that. This time I wasn't going to let it drop.

"I'm happy for Tom and Vicki, they're going to make great parents, don't you think?" I said it in a way that she'd have to give me at least some type of answer, or so I thought. But all she did the rest of the way home was stare out the window with this blank expression on her face.

"Steve, you go to bed, I'm going to stay up tonight and read a bit," she said, looking straight through me.

"Why don't you read in bed? I can sleep through almost anything and your reading isn't going to keep me up."

"Steve, I said I want to read down here! Why do you always have to question everything I say or do?" I didn't even answer her. I just turned around and walked up to our bedroom, shut the door, locked it, and went to sleep.

About two o'clock in the morning I heard her trying to open the door.

"Steve, the door's locked," she said, shaking the handle. "Steve, unlock the damn door and let me in!" she demanded in that tone I'd come to hate, but I did nothing. She yelled, pounded on the door with her fists, and finally started kicking it. I think I heard a sob sometime during that twenty-minute fiasco but I wasn't moved like I would have been months earlier. I was tired and almost to my breaking point.

The next morning I woke up a little earlier than I normally would have, hell I don't think I got more than an hour of sleep anyway. I showered, went downstairs, and found her asleep on the couch. I was just finishing my second cup of coffee when I noticed Heather in the doorway. She looked tired and a whole lot angrier than I'd seen her in a long time.

"What was that all about last night?" she spit at me. "Why didn't you let me in the bedroom?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"It's a simple question," I said in a calm voice. "Why did you want to come in the bedroom last night?"

"What kind of question is that? It's my damn bedroom too, that's why."

"That's what I thought," I said, dumping what little coffee was left in my cup into the sink.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just thought maybe, just maybe, you'd wanted to be with me, but I guess we both know that hasn't crossed your mind in what, six, seven months?" I was out the door forty-five seconds later and on my way to work thirty seconds after that. A surprised and open-mouthed Heather stood in the garage, watching me pull out. I had finally reached my limit.

Like a coward, I left a message on the home phone answering machine. I told Heather I was working late and not to wait dinner on me, which was a real laugh. I had made eighty percent of the meals in the last five months. I knew she would probably find what I'd prepared for tonight in the refrigerator. I stayed an extra ten minutes at work so as not to be accused of lying to her and then met my brother, Roger, at a strip bar in a seedy part of the lower downtown area.

"Okay, big brother what gives, and how in the hell did you find a dump like this?"

"It's not all that bad, or it wasn't ten years ago when I was last here. It's just that I can't go home and deal with Heather tonight. Last night I thought my frigging head was going to explode. I know she lost the baby and I feel awful for her. I lost that baby too, but after seven months I'm ready to move on and she's still somewhere back there."

"I thought she was seeing some shrink for the last couple of months?"

"She has been but I haven't seen any changes whatsoever."

"Do you ever talk about it? I mean really talk about how she's feeling?"

"I tried but all she did was clam up or tell me I don't have a clue what she is going through. I guess after a while I just stopped asking. I watch her go off to the psychologist, come home, and still treat me like I'm not even there. We haven't had sex since two days before she miscarried. Hell, even my right hand is starting to reject me." We both laughed at that.

He was right, this place was a hole and the women looked pretty damn rough. We had two beers and even tipped a few of the dancers so they would stay away from us. An hour later, with a brotherly hug and a suggestion for me to go with Heather to her next session, we both headed for our prospective homes.

I found Heather sitting on the couch with a book in her lap staring into space. I sat in the chair directly across her and reached out for her hands. Like always she gave me that far away look that said 'leave me alone,' but I was tired of the status quo. I had to move something off dead center if we were to survive and go forward again.

"You know I love you, don't you?" I started pulling on her hands to get her attention. "I know you're still hurting and I'm here for you. Please, let me help you, I'm begging you," I told her as my eyes started to water up. "I want to go to your next counseling session with you. We need to do this together if we're ever going to get through this."

I don't know what I was expecting. I know what I was hoping for but what I got from her was nothing at all, and that I was not expecting. She looked at me, not through me this time, and told me to never lock her out of our room ever again.

So began four months of hell.

We started with when she got pregnant the first time and went on from there. Dr. Cummings dragged us through each phase and was brutal making us both relive the anguish and pain over and over. The one thing that Heather didn't fully realize was the pain I was also feeling. Not only was I grieving the loss of our son, but also the breakdown of our marriage.

"When was the last time the two of you really kissed?" our counselor asked at the beginning of one session.

Heather looked at me and shook her head. "I can't even remember, oh my God, I can't even remember the last time we kissed or even held one another." She looked shocked, but I wasn't because I knew the answer.

"Steve, do you know how long it's been?" I gave Dr. Cummings almost exact dates of when we last kissed, cuddled, and made love to each other. Heather started to say that it hadn't been that long, or I was exaggerating the length of time, but after looking at me she knew I was right.

"Has it really been that long?"

"Honey, you've been out of it so long, it's a wonder that you can remember anything." She didn't take kindly to that remark.

As I said, Dr. Cummings dug deep into the both of us and started sending us back with homework assignments, most of which were designed to get us emotionally and physically back with one another. It was hard for Heather and a couple of times she lashed out at me saying she wasn't ready but I persisted. I made sure that no matter where I went now I gave her a kiss and a hug goodbye. It seemed almost foreign at first but eventually she responded by both kissing me back and returning my hugs.

It was a Friday night that we finally climbed our first big hurdle. I was in bed with my back to her and almost asleep when I felt her move next to me. I didn't react; I lay there silently waiting for what she was going to do next. She didn't roll me over and impale herself on me, more so she moved in close and put her arm around me. We slept that way most of the night. By seven o'clock in the morning she had moved back to the center of the bed. I pressed my front against her back, slipped one of my legs between hers and with my arm over her body I pulled her in tight. I thought she would wake up but much to my delight she stayed asleep.

It was close to nine o'clock before we both woke up again. We were still intertwined and were sharing each other's body heat.

"Morning, you sleep okay last night?" I asked, still holding on to her.

"Best sleep I've had in months," she said with a little smile on her face, and for the first time she didn't pull away from me.

Little steps are what we took. A kiss here, a hug there, and there was cuddling on most nights now, outside of the nights we went to our counseling sessions, that is. After those sessions our feeling were always raw and we each needed space to reflect on what went down. After a while that too got better.

A month later we came back from a nice evening out and we took the final plunge. We had gone out to dinner and met a group of friends at a club we both liked. We danced, drank, and had a fantastic time. During the slow dances I held her in my arms and for the first time I knew we were going to make it. We kissed on the dance floor and were happy again.

All the way home we held hands, looked at one another, but spoke only a few words. I think we were both thinking the same thing when we walked through the garage door into the kitchen. I took her into my arms and kissed her like I had so many times before our life had become a living nightmare. She was the one who led me upstairs to our bedroom. She was the one who initiated it and took the lead. I was happy enough to follow.

We made love and got back that night what we'd lost months ago. The foreplay went on for hours. We must have kissed for at least a half hour before moving onto what we both needed. It was tender, sweet, and complete. We hung onto each other until the afterglow was long gone. Twice more before the sun came up we climbed into one another's skin and professed our love for each other. Finally, exhausted, we fell asleep, together, knowing that we'd taken a huge step in becoming husband and wife again.

"Good morning, Mrs. Moore," I said. I'd been watching her for the better part of an hour, waiting for her to wake up. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Wonderful," she said, kissing me. "But, someone needs a shave and a shower and it isn't only me." She gave me one more peck on the lips before jumping out of bed and running for the bathroom.

We showered together and played tongue tag until the hot water ran out. I chased her into the bedroom, threw her onto the bed, and teased her with my lips and tongue until she screamed for me to finish her off, which I was more than happy to do.

"I love you, Heather."

"And I love you too, Steve," she replied. And with that exchange we returned to being a couple.

We still saw Dr. Cummings for about a month and a half after that weekend. She was the one in the end who told us to finish healing on our own, though she would be there if we ever needed her. I had my wife back.

When my brother Roger and his wife had their second boy, I saw something in Heather's eyes I hadn't seen in years. Not jealously, more so a longing, but there was no way I was ever going to ask her to go through that again. I'd gotten the love of my wife back and I wasn't going to take the chance of losing her yet again.

Months later, on a cold wintery night, over a glass of wine and a warm fire she spoke the words I thought I'd never hear her utter.

"What would you say to us trying once more?" She didn't shout out that she wanted a baby or that it was high time we gave it another try, it was more like a soft-spoken question, asking my opinion.

I didn't answer right away thinking that I hadn't heard her correctly, but she repeated it waiting for my reply.

"I'm not sure. I almost lost you once and I never want to take that chance again. I don't think I could live through it one more time."

"How about if we talked to the doctor first and get his opinion? If he says our chances are iffy then we forget about it. But, if he says there's a good chance... would you want to give it another try?"

This was a question that didn't have an easy yes or no answer. It would be nice to have a child, but at what cost? Physically there was no question she was able to get pregnant, but emotionally I wasn't so sure.

"Heather, if you want we can talk to a few medical people and get their opinions and make our decision after that. But, if you're doing this for me I want you to forget about it right now. I'd be more than happy to adopt a baby that needs a loving family, but what I won't do is put you or our marriage at risk again, it's not worth that."

"Well, we don't have to make a decision right now. I just want you to think about it, okay?"

I did, she did, we talked to two medical doctors and lastly to Dr. Cummings. Both doctors were in agreement that if she followed their advice there should be no repeat of the last go around. However, Dr. Cummings wasn't totally sold on the idea.

"Heather, you two are still cementing your relationship after a very stressful and emotional period in your lives. Have you thought about what or how you'd feel if something happened again? Would you be emotionally capable of handling another setback?"

"Dr. Cummings, nothing's going to happen," Heather replied. "The doctors all say physically there is no reason I can't carry a baby to term."

"Steve, Heather, please hear me out. I'm not saying that you two shouldn't try again, I'm just saying that sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. I want the both of you to fully understand the consequences of what you're about to do, that's all."

"Roberta, you're still the worrywart, everything's going to be fine," Heather assured her. Me? I hadn't said yes or no at this point, but it looked like I wasn't really being given a choice. I'd like to say I was a hundred percent on board, and although I still had a few reservations I went along with her wishes.

We said nothing to anyone and took our time. We were in no real hurry. Heather simply stopped taking her birth control pills. It was nice not dealing with the pressure this time around. We kissed and made love when we wanted. I was relieved that I didn't have to rush home to dump my seed in her whenever she was ovulating. However, the little shit waited for almost a whole month to tell me she was pregnant.

We were getting ready for dinner. The table was set. I grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and sat down at the kitchen table, all the while taking to my wife while she finished making dinner. I never even noticed the plastic tube on my plate until about ten minutes later. I picked it up, fingered it in my hand, and read the word positive. She had been watching me the whole time. I looked towards the stove at a smiling Heather.

"I thought you were never going to notice it," she said laughing. "I was about ready to yell at you to look at that damn test strip." She was now running into my arms kissing me. "We're going to have a baby, Mr. Moore. You're going to be a daddy."

The hell with dinner, we talked for the next hour about how she had found out and what the doctors had said.

"He has put me on a schedule of appointments and told me in no uncertain terms what I can and can't do. I'm sorry I waited to tell you, I just wanted to get the first month under my belt just in case," she said with a little hesitancy in her voice.

"Don't worry, babes, this time nothing is going to go wrong." So began our baby quest.

Everything was done according to what her doctors dictated. We waited until after her third month to tell our family. On one hand they were concerned, yet on the other, also overjoyed for the two of us. I treated her like she was made of glass and even when we made love I was careful not to get too rough with her.

"For Christ sakes, fuck me, will you?" she yelled one night. "I feel like I'm having sex with an eighty year old man." She laughed, and I gave her what she wanted.

At week twenty-seven Heather noticed a few drops of blood on her panties and was in the doctor's office twenty minutes later. Bed rest was ordered. Heather was going to be confined to her bed for the duration of her pregnancy just to be on the safe side. We were prepared in case this happened. We had squirreled away extra money and she had saved her full three weeks of vacation, her ten sick days, and her two personal days just in case. Money would be a little tight but this wasn't a choice anymore.

The first couple of weeks were pretty easy for her. She had the television, her iPod, books, and the telephone. After a few weeks everyone started bringing her their old magazines. She found she could stay occupied and fill her days, but lying in bed, day in and day out, waned on her.

She described herself as being as big as a house. Heather watched her weight like a hawk and even though her doctor expected her to gain quite a bit, he felt she would be able to handle it. I gave her back rubs, massaged her legs, and helped her take showers when I got home from work.

"Here you go, babes," I said, bringing up her dinner.

"This is it? Steve, I'm starved! How about just a little more pasta? I'll make it worth your while," she said with that wicked smile on her face.

"You know what the doctor said, he doesn't want you to gain too much weight. I'll bring you up another helping of Jell-O, or how about a juice bar?" I'm not even going to tell you what she said I could do with that juice bar, but it wasn't lady-like and it wouldn't have fit anyway. So it went on for the next month.

"I'm going to Walmart, you need anything?" I asked.

"A string bikini, some sexy under garments, and a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream would be nice." I laughed at her request.

"It won't be that much longer honey, why don't you just relax," I tried to tell her.

"I'm tired of relaxing and sick of this damn bed, I want out!"

I shouldn't have brought it up or even mentioned it but I guess I was feeling a little sorry for her.

"If you want, you can drive with me to Wal-Mart and stay in the car while I run in." Just the idea made her eyes get very wide with longing. "On second thought, maybe that's not such a good idea," I said, but I'd thrown out the idea and Heather wasn't letting me pull it back in.

"Help me up," is all she said swinging her legs off the side of our bed. "I'm not going to change since I'm not even getting out of the car. Just let me throw on my robe and we're out of here."

"Babes, maybe this isn't such a good idea after all," I said, trying to backtrack.

"You brought it up and I think it's a great idea. A trip outside is exactly what I need."

I helped her into the car, pushing her bucket seat all the way back to give her more room. I adjusted the seat belt and put the pillow I had brought from our bed between her stomach and the seat belt.