Snow-White Fate

Ever since a devastating event in her teens, a woman faces the opportunity for motherhood. She isn't very optimistic, but things could go either way.

My story has two endings, I'd like feedback on both. I will be doing a reading on my campus, so I'd like it to be great. I'm leaning towards the sad ending. But let me know what you think! :) Thanks!

Snow-White Fate

This story has two endings. Be advised, one is triggering for some and may not be for all audiences.

“What is that?” I looked at my fiance with utter disbelief.

“It’s for the baby!” He beamed proudly, the way only a first-time dad could do.

“Obviously. But, honey…” My words drifted, and I hoped he would get the drift. He didn’t.

My fiance and I have been trying to have a baby for about a year. Truthfully I’m surprised I was able to get pregnant, seeing as I had some reproductive issues in my early teens. What exactly I mean is that it’s very common to get cysts on one’s ovaries, and generally they’re painless. Sometimes though, they get too big, and they cause a lot of pain. In my case, it was even worse. I had an ovarian cyst that got so big it made my ovary flip upside down. When it did so, it twisted up the Fallopian tube. So blood was going in, but it wasn’t able to flow out very well. Let me tell you, having a body part that should be the size of an almond grow to the size of a small football, yeah not fun.

My parents thought I was just being melodramatic. I had just started my period, and since brutal PMS runs in my family they didn’t suspect it could be anything worse. So it took a couple days of me being in black-out pain before they’d take me to the doctor. When we finally did, the doctors had no choice but to remove a large part of my identity as a woman. I left the hospital 4 days later missing half my reproductive system. They told me it would probably be hard for me to get pregnant when I decided to.

But I was finally, and it was such a wonderful feeling. Every morning I’d caress my little pooch. But every night I’d pray that he’d still be there when I woke up. Getting pregnant was only half the battle, and I worried I’d lose every day. I was only 23 weeks along, so I wasn’t exactly preparing the nursery just yet. You have to understand, after hearing my chances of even being pregnant were low, I had less faith that I would be able to carry to term. But of course, someone had the optimism of a dog who just got asked to go for a walk.

“You have to return it.” My eyes started to well up with tears. “What if he doesn’t make it? What if we lose him tomorrow? You know it’s possible.”

He pulled me into his arms “Then I guess we’ll have to try again.”

“No! We can’t just ‘try again’! That’s a human!” I sobbed, “our human.” I said softly.

It took some convincing, but I finally relented and let him put it into the second bedroom, well the nursery actually. He took such pride, and spent the next few weeks painting and adding more necessities. He’d try and get me to look into the room, to maybe have some optimism. But I couldn’t bear to. I still panicked every time I didn’t feel him move for very long.

“Babe, please come look. I’ve been working so hard on this for him.” He pleaded almost daily.

“I can’t, please drop it. You’re only going to make this harder.”

‘Come on, you haven’t even seen where I put the whatchamacallit.”

“I said no. I don’t want to get my hopes up. Please just accept that!”

“Can we at least talk about names? I was thinking something with my dad’s name. Like something- Joseph.”

“Great.” I said dryly, before walking away.

As I turned away I heard him say, “But...33 weeks, he’ll be okay.”

As I sat in the kitchen sipping my red-raspberry-leaf tea, I let my mind wander. Before I could stop myself, I started to think about what he might look like. I envisioned a bald little boy, with dark eyes that would eventually turn into his father’s deep brown. I could see him cooing, displaying my rounded cheeks. I could see him in cute outfits, my little doll. I tried to shake it from my mind, but I couldn’t. All I could see was his happy face, his little bitty toes, and the future he might have. I snapped out of it when I saw my fiance looking at me in concern, then I realized I had been crying.

“You okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, my b***s just hurt. Hormones.” I quickly wiped the tears away from my blue eyes, and tried to rush away. But he grabbed me by the wrist.

“Don’t lie to me; seriously, are you okay?”

“No,” and just like that I burst into uncontrollable sobs.

We spent the next three hours talking about everything, from good to bad. We discussed what we’d do in the event of a loss. And he agreed we would wait at least a year before trying again. If the baby made it, we would finish up the nursery in the following weeks. Since I wanted him in our room when we first get home.

“Do you want to see Baby Joseph’s nursery?” His words coming out as carefully as he could muster, probably anticipating another burst of tears.

I took a deep breath and paused for a moment, “Okay, let’s do it.” I grabbed his hand. “As long as we can do it together, and you don’t let go.”

“I promise.”

Away we went. Immediately my eyes gravitated to the start of all of this. A wave of emotions washed over me. The smooth white felt like a knife cutting me in half.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Alright, another time. I’m sorry I made you do this.”

“It’s okay, I just…” Before I could finish my sentence I heard a scream. It took me a moment to realize it was me screaming. God it hurt so bad. It was blinding. Was this it? Was this the deciding moment? Did the stress finally get to be too much? There was so much running through my head.

For the sad story continue, for the happy story skip to the following prompt.

I lay on the floor, feeling only pain. I couldn’t even finish full thoughts. It was like I wasn’t in any other part of my body except the parts feeling pain. I heard my fiance talking to someone.

“Please, come quick.” His voice was trembling ”There’s blood everywhere. I don’t think she’s conscious. I can’t lose them both. PLEASE!!”

I tried to speak, to move, anything. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do anything. I lay there with my thoughts; I’m being punished for being optimistic. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I should have known. But why does he have to be punished? He was just an innocent pawn in the game of life. I began to get angry with God. I cursed him in my mind, wishing I could move. Everything faded to black. When I opened my eyes I saw such bright light, and my fiance standing over me with his long black hair pulled into a messy ponytail, tears in his eyes. He had blood on his shirt, was that my blood?

“I’m so sorry. I should have let you be. This is all my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” I tried to sit up despite how light-headed I was, “Where is he?” I asked, confused.

This only made him cry harder.

“They...He… This is all my fault.”

I then realized what he meant, and he had the same thoughts I did. The blinding white, that’s what pushed me. Or maybe it was a coincidence. Truthfully though, I wanted something or someone to blame. I collapsed against the soft hospital pillow, feeling empty everywhere. I was right, I knew I didn’t deserve him. I put my hand where my son had once been. I felt like my life had gone with his. It was unbearable. I couldn’t even think straight. Did you know they only give you 2 days to recover after that? After a tragedy they send you home to look at the shrine to your lost child. Obviously they’ve never been in my shoes.

As soon as we walked in I slowly made my way upstairs, looking at the blood stain trailing down the stairs. Pooling at the bottom. Had I fallen? Was this my fault? No, I had started hemorrhaging at the middle of the steps. It was already happening then. This wasn’t my fault. When I reached the top, I slowly walked down the hall to the nursery. I don’t know what I was expecting. I walked to the edge of the piercing white, glancing in. How ironic that a crib is what pushed me over the edge. The very thing that’s supposed to hold my child when I cannot, caused me to surrender him to the ground. If it wasn’t for that stupid thing starting this all, I wouldn’t have been so stressed. Maybe then he would have made it. Yeah, he would have. I know it.

It’s been a year now, and that snow-white crib still sits in the room untouched. A shrine to the son that once was. The son who never had my red hair or his dad’s brown eyes, who never got to learn to walk or start kindergarten. The child who never lay in the crib his father once picked with pride. I don’t think I could ever fill the void that was left for him.

Continue here for the happy story.

I sat at the top of the stairs, trying to maintain focus. I didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this much. My eyes began to well with pain. Aren’t contractions supposed to build up? Does this mean...? Another wave of pain pulled me from my thoughts. My fiance calmly called 911 as soon as he realized something was up. How can he be so calm? I can’t even stand up. Oh god, is that blood?

“I think my wife is going into labor!” He said in excitement, “Well she’s in a lot of pain...No I don’t think her water broke yet... Can you just get here?” He asked in annoyance.

He knelt down next to me, holding my hand and directing my breathing.

“For such a small girl you have quite the grip.” He winced.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re in pain” I replied sarcastically.

After what seemed like ages the paramedics finally arrived. They informed me there was a slight complication, so they were going to have to transport me and prep me for birth on the way. Although I was hesitant, the contractions made my decision for me.

45 minutes later, I was in the operating room. It seemed like everything was happening so fast. Just as soon as I showed some optimism, my son decided to enter the world. It’s funny how that goes.

Holding him felt like rebirth for myself. This little human came from me. I made a person who is going to experience life, and I get to be a part of that. I get to see his blue eyes light up when he does something new, and see his little feet carry him for the first time. I get to kiss his chubby cheeks goodnight, and hear him learn to speak. I get to continue a piece of me, and a piece of my other half. The feeling was so overwhelming, I didn’t want to sleep. I just wanted to stay in our little world.

After 3 days, we were forced to go home, back into the world of reality. When we got home my fiance took our little boy on a tour. The ending stop was the nursery, where he set the fragile baby down. In the big snow-white fixture, he looked so small. We stood in the doorway, in awe that we did it. We were parents. We are parents. As we stood there, I couldn’t help but admire that the thing that is supposed to hold my child when I can’t, is the same thing that gave me the option. That damn crib was the whole reason that child made it, I’m sure of it.

Author's Note

There are two endings, due to the "sad" ending having triggering effects. Should I keep them both, or should I cut out the happy one? Also, any other critiques you may have are more than welcome.