Writes..."Reflections"

"i've been debating writing this for days, probably even longer. every time i think i can i change my mind. there are too many feelings i feel about this, too many tears i've cried for past choices i can't change and a future increasingly more inevitable by the day. and it's eating at my very soul. "we were so much in love. i would entertain the thought of being the mother of his child and in time the mother of our children." her words... i don't know if this is difficult to write because we didn't have a child when we were presented with the opportunity years ago or because we think about it now and in a relatively short time the possibility will be lost forever. wait, that's not true. it's both. it's because i know i wanted her to be the mother of my kid, kids, whatever, my offspring and i know that she wanted that too. but we didn't. and i regret that. we were together and then not together and wasting the most valuable resource of all. the one thing that's actually gone when it's gone - time. all we can do now is reflect on what could've been because the reality of the future is it's not gonna happen for us. it can't. soon she won't be able to have any more children. period. us being together or not won't matter. us wanting a child together won't matter. every tomorrow is the next day in the countdown towards the realization that it isn't about us anymore. it's not about what we want or what we are. it's about her being healthy and that's the most important thing.

until she told me she was pregnant, the happiest day of my life had been the day she told me she loved me for the first time. i remember it like it was yesterday. or tomorrow. it had been a long day, a long day for both of us. me with my bullshit and her with her job and doctor's appointment. and then the kids...the day was one of those forever days, where every moment seems to drag and i was tired of the moments for that day. but at least i was home, where we could all sit down together and wind down from the various days we had, perhaps with some wii later on. i've always been a guy who knew he would be happy with family dinner and homework, so i never whine about it now that it's my life. spaghetti and algebra? tacos and shakespeare? it's what i wanted for myself and i got it. after dinner she told me she wanted to go for a walk and before she'd finished her words i had her hand and was headed for the door. i love the kids and everything but i never pass up an opportunity for some alone time with her. we walked lovingly down the street, hand in hand, like teenagers on their first date. i think it was because, beyond the mutual respect we had for one another and what we were individually, what we were together was built on something more than that. we truly loved each other. we'd been though the fire and the flames and emerged unscathed, intact, and forged in one another's hearts. we stopped when we got to the end of the block and i could see tears running down her face. i placed my hand on her face to wipe away her tears and asked her what was wrong. she said she hadn't told me everything the doctor had told her. my heart sank. what? my mind immediately drifted from one life-threatening disease to another, what could it be? i pulled her as close as she could get to me, hugging her as tightly as i could. i told her that whatever it was we would get through it together. and she smiled, stretching up to whisper into my ear. "brian, we're going to have a baby", she said as she began to kiss me all over the face and neck. stunned, shocked, and overwhelmed, i think i dropped to my knees and cried right there on the corner. me sobbing, rubbing her stomach, knowing that my love was pregnant with my child and i couldn't have been happier.

we never hid anything from the girls when they had questions about the baby or the pregnancy. i remember when we were seven months, the younger daughter and i were trading pokémon on our ds's, a skitty for a rampardos, because she thought skittys were cool and i was only digging up shieldons. ah, quality time with the children. anyway, as i was sending my skitty over to her i noticed that her eyes were watering. "what's wrong?", i asked, "don't cry because you're getting a skitty." she looked up at me with tears running down her face and asked, "will you still love me when the baby comes?" and i was speechless. because i never, ever labelled myself as her stepfather, i always figured i was just a dude who was doing the same things her dad was doing for her, just when she was with me. i'd never wondered whether or not she questioned my love for her or her sister. and then it hit me. not having a label didn't make me any less of what i was to her or take away from anything i'd done for her. i wasn't her biological but i was her "bri-o-logical". and i was good with that. taking her by the hand, i led her over to where her mother was resting and placed it on her stomach. i let her know that we were a family and that she was as much a part of me as the baby was, and that my love for her wouldn't change one bit. that she'd always be my wii-bowling, pokèmon-trading, spongebob-watching partner. then i kissed her on the forehead and she seemed reassured, satisfied with what i had told her. and as i smiled at her mom, she began to lead me back to our ds's, eager to get more pokèmon from me.

our daughter was born on a rainy night, on a day the weather couldn't decide what it wanted to do. it was clear, then wet, sunny again, then wet again. but the day's precipitation was of no concern to me. my daughter was coming with postman-like certainty and i was anxious for her arrival. many hours later, she was here and i was her dad. i was her dad, wow, that still sounds crazy! i, brian wilson, was somebody's father. i remember when the nurse asked me if i wanted to hold "my" daughter how surreal the moment was. she placed her in my arms and i cried again. i think i'd cried more times in the short time of her existence than i had in my entire life. her eyes closed, she yawned at me and i was geeked, smiling and beaming like it was the greatest thing ever. then she opened her eyes, big light brown eyes, and looked at me and i looked at her and we knew. she knew that i was her dad and that i would love her without fail. and i knew she was my daughter and that she would be the best thing i would ever do in this life. i was so happy, i was feeling so many things. i gently rocked her back and forth, softly singing "frogs" by alice in chains, until she drifted back to sleep. and her mother laughed because she knew that was something i would do. something unorthodox, something unexpected. something totally "brian". i mean, "frogs", who sings "frogs" to a baby? maybe layne staley before he died? but only us two i'd think. slowly, i walked her over to her mother and kissed her mother's forehead. she'd given me my dream and i couldn't thank her enough for my daughter, our daughter.

but like i said before we'd had an opportunity and never had a child. and with that option being closed to us, all i can do is reflect on the "what if's" and wonder. and i do wonder. a lot."