Road To Recovery (A "Living With The Choices We Make" Sequel) ✔️

4 - The Most Beautiful Thing

4 - The Most Beautiful Thing

Rena's POV

I loved Noah from the first moment I laid eyes on him and I will never forget the day he was born. It may have been the most miserable December day of that year, with snow already on the ground and temperatures just around zero with a killer wind-chill.

Light pains in my abdomen woke me up that morning, but they didn't alarm me too much since I had had cramps on and off for days. Dr. Hayman had found everything to be normal when she had examined me during my routine check-up. 'It happens sometimes' she had reassured me. I was right on track with another month to go.

My head was pounding and I had a sore throat but dragged myself out of bed to call Doc to cancel my counseling appointment. He didn't go for it despite my pleading and nagging and an hour later, I sat across from him in his office on the couch.

"You don't look so hot," were his greeting words.

I sighed. "I told you on the phone I wasn't feeling well but just as usual, you didn't believe me."

He apologized with a crooked grin. "Truthfully, I thought you were just exaggerating."

I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"And since you are already here, we can as well get some work done. No need to burden the tax payer with an hour worth of wasted therapy."

Leaning back into the soft cushion, I stared at the ceiling. The pain had turned into a persistent throb that was drilling at my insides. I stroked my belly to calm the baby who had started to kick.

"So how was your week so far?" Doc asked.

"Fine."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Nope."

It was always the same game. He would ask a question and I responded as briefly as possible. We were in our seventh week of therapy and I had not opened up to him though I had truly tried to convince myself that he was there to help me. The sessions were a drag for the both of us but so far, he had bit his tongue, assuring me it would take time. All this was part of the healing process. At the rate we were going, it sure would take the full four years for me to be fixed.

"Tell me about school."

I exhaled through pursed lips. "School is still the same, Doc."

My new high school was dreadful. After my release from jail, my father had gone to my old private school to have me readmitted but they had blown him off. Apparently, I was no longer of good moral character and as a pregnant seventeen year old, not suited as a role model for the younger students. After talking to Mr. Rose, my probation officer, my dad and he had agreed for me to enroll in the local high school two blocks from my house. I was not consulted in the decision and resented it.

"How are you managing your work load?"

I gritted my teeth - what a question. They had put me back into junior year since I had missed over a month of school and would also be out of commission for a while after the birth of the baby. Yet, the curriculum was far less demanding than in my old school and I could have passed the senior year exams with my eyes closed. Those arguments had likewise been discarded by those who were running my life now without further consideration.

"It's fine, Doc. So far, I got all 'As' on my tests."

A sharp pain stabbed at my stomach and I cringed, fighting sudden nausea.

"What about making new friends?"

I sucked in a deep breath. "No, Doc. No friends." Sweat tickled me at the nape of my hair line.