Both of their eyes are closed

part 24

My due date was a week ago.

The past seven days have been the most tense of my entire life. We've had two false alarms in the past four days, and I'm long past ready to get these heavy children out of me.

Every time I go to sleep at night, means another day that I should have gone into labor, but didn't. I'll admit I'm terrified as hell, I've never really coped well with knowing that I will be in pain, and I have to go through that twice.

My back hurts, my feet hurt, I'm always hungry. I barely make it to the hospital to see Luke. Visiting has gone from an every day thing to a three times a weeks thing. I don't like it, I do want to see him every day still, but my body just can't handle it. All I really can do right now is lay on the couch and close my eyes, breathing slowly and keeping myself calm and distracted.

I am uncomfortable on top of the pain. I always have to pee and I struggle to stand. I am irritable and moody, it's sort of like being on your period, but for much longer that just one week.

"Get these babies out!" I keep saying. I just want to hold them in my arms, not my abdomen. I want to see their shining faces and sparkling eyes. I want to see how much they look like Luke or me. I hope they look like Luke.

I hope they have his glimmering blue eyes and his sandy blonde hair and adorable dimples and smug grin. I want to hear them cry and watch them sleep.

When they get older I want to hear them laugh, hear them speak their first words, watch them as they learn how to sit up, then crawl, then walk, then ride a bike, then drive a car.

When I think about the future, and see all of these things happening, I'm not sure if Luke is there, in those thoughts. There's no telling whether he will be part of their lives.

The doctor said that there is not one reason why he would still be asleep, but that if he were to wake up he would be different.

What the hell even happened?

Luke overdosed obviously, but why? What would make him want to take his life? And that doesn't explain why they found him battered and beaten and bloody. What if someone did this to him? What if someone hit him and made him swallow those pills?

By now, Calum, Mikey, and Ashton pretty much have a routine for when I start to cry. They bring good food and blankets and sit with me and choose some sort of a funny movie to watch.

Sarah went home a few weeks ago. I liked her here, but I'm also a bit glad that it's just the boys and me. The original group.

This time, they bring a bunch of Oreos and choose some movie with lots of humor and sappy romance in it, and of course, it doesn't fail to cheer me up.

Sometimes I regret not telling him. I beat myself up over the fact that he could have known. If he doesn't wake up, he'll never know. I'll have to explain to my children why all of the other kids talk about their amazing daddies, and why they don't have one. I will sit at home with my daughter on the night of every Daddy-Daughter Dance and have the memory of him tear at my heart.

I know that I won't find another. No one is like Luke, no one will ever be like him. When our children move out, it'll just be Mikey, Calum, Ashton, and I. But it will be different.

I wonder how long it will take me to move on, or if I ever will move on for that matter....

STOP!

I can't be thinking this way. Luke is healed and he is healthy and we have two children on the way. You cannot just die with two children on the way! He is going to wake up. He is going to wake up and he is going to be a father. He is going to wake up and we are going to be a family. He is going to wake up and we will all be happy again. He is going to wake up.

....

Mikey and Calum are at the hospital with Luke right now. It was Ashton's turn to home and take care of me. Well, not really home...but I guess it's close enough. This building has been "home" for months.

"Ashton?"

"Yeah?"

"I was sort of thinking....maybe after the twins are born, we could move to another building, I mean, who knows how long we are going to be here, and I think a change in scenery would be nice."

"I think so too. This suite is getting old," he laughs, "and it's so boring too."

"Definitely boring," I agree with a giggle. The walls are white, the tiles are white, the cupboards are white, the sheets are white, the furniture is black and white, everything is black, white, or is a picture on the wall. At least there's some color.

I never actually took the time to look at the paintings on the walls. They're really actually beautiful works of photography. There is one of a perfect pink sunset. Another of lightning flashing through the sky. None of the paintings seem to tie into one another, but they are all very simple and very creative.

I decide to grab myself a glass of water, Ashton seems tired and I feel bad for him having to take care of a fussy moody pregnant woman like me.

It should be Luke taking care of me, the more depressing and annoying side of my subconscious adds. I shake off the though and grab a glass from the cupboard.

I fill it with cold water and drink the whole glass far too quickly. Then I fill it again. I bring the cup to my lips...

And with one heaving, painful contraction the cup escapes my fingertips and shatters along the floor.