Disclaimer: I own nothing, it belongs to JE.

A/N: This could be considered an epilogue to ‘Mercy’. However, it is too long, so it will stand alone. I’ll post this in three or four parts….part two is almost complete. Huge warnings for angst in this story. HUGE thanks to Sue (jgio) for helping me…editing, support, and letting me bitch. Thanks Sue! Please review if you have time, I learn from my reviews. And play list will be in part two. Enjoy!

GLORY

By

Kym

PART ONE: To Die Another Day

Every day that we breathe is a gift….a true tribute of God’s love for us. However, many make the mistake assuming that each breath is going to be easy.

How well I learned this lesson.

Pain is a reminder that we live, and also one that speaks of exactly what God sacrificed for us. He lived, he breathed, and then he died, sacrificing himself so we would be given the same chance.

It’s funny how you don’t think about that until you die.

Despite the trials going on in our life, don’t we all find time to question God why he makes us suffer? Do we only pray when we are faced with the dark side of life? What about the times of joy and happiness? Do we find time to thank him for our gifts?

I’m guilty of questioning God’s actions and for berating his plan for me. I forget to say a quick ‘thank you’ when I am truly blessed. It’s not hard to do when you are caught up in your life. And lucky for us, he forgives us for our oversight…because we are created in his image and only human. I have no doubt that he remembers what it’s like to walk this Earth and because he did, our sins are forgiven.

Some people who survive a life threatening experience are not able to recall the seconds prior to drawing their last breath, while others remember everything. Stories float around about a blinding light and an abundance of joy that they feel when they die. It’s food for thought…but really, shouldn’t that stay between the person and God?

I feel comfortable speaking about those few precious moments before my heart stopped beating and even my thoughts when I drew my last breath. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t scared, or maybe it’s because I was ready.

Death is perhaps the number one fear among normal people. It’s understandable because it’s the unknown and not something we can control. Statistics can tell us the odds of our plane crashing or what our chances are of surviving a car accident. But, those statistics can’t tell us if we are one of those numbers. No, that’s God’s job. So, it’s okay to be afraid, but shouldn’t we also trust God to guide us in the after as he did in life?

Easier said than done, and I don’t think anyone can truly understand unless they’ve experienced it for themselves.

I had thirty four weeks to get used to the odds of surviving Leukemia. Essentially, I was given a death sentence and then provided choices that could play a key role in my survival. But, I didn’t think about it from quite that frame of mind.

I was terrified. I thought I was alone. And, I felt hopeless. There were so many ‘what ifs’ floating around in my brain that I really didn’t stop and think about death…not at that moment.

I thought about life…for my child.

My decision was perhaps the most unselfish choice I have made in my adult life. I was fully aware of the dangers and the consequences, Dr. Thompson made sure of that. It wasn’t a matter of keeping the child because I’m against abortion. I think about it now, and it’s so simple. There was a reason I was pregnant, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

God has a reason for everything…another lesson I learned. The child that essentially endangered my life, saved my life in the end.

Simple and perfect.

Everything sounds wonderful, and I got my happy ending.

This is the story that we will tell our son when he gets older and maybe any other children we have. And when our son is old enough to understand fully, we’ll tell him the real story….what was reality.

Because maybe the final song is simple and perfect, but the journey getting there was anything except that. This was the time that I learned my assumptions were false. Every breath isn’t easy; there is more to pain than hurting; and it’s okay to let your faith falter.

Sometimes, we have to climb mountains, and this was mine. What is important is what I learned, and what I thought was important was nothing.

I didn’t hold my son for 103 days after his birth.

And this is the story of my journey and my battle….my fight to live again.

oOoOoOoOoO

I couldn’t breathe.

Why couldn’t I breathe? Or swallow?

Panicked, I opened my eyes, and the memories returned.

I had a son.

But why couldn’t I breathe?

I slowly brought a hand up to my mouth and felt the tube protruding from it. Then I registered the beeps and whirls of machinery in the room. I attempted to turn my head, but it hurt. I moved several centimeters and looked out corner of my eye and saw myself connected to the machinery. I ran my hand down my arms and found more tubes and wires, one that stopped at my neck.

I was shocked. Was I really in such bad shape that I required all the machines? And where was my son? Ranger?

Why was I alone?

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be alone again. Then, I felt something against my leg…a light movement or a sigh. I tried to look down and I glimpsed a mass of black hair.

Ranger was hunched over my legs, leaning his face against my knee and he appeared to be asleep. It was enough. Even though I couldn’t completely see him, I was content that he was with me.

I let my fingers slide through his silky hair, the texture comforting to me. The tension in my body slowly disappeared as I relaxed and enjoyed being alive a little bit longer.

At some point Ranger woke up, I felt him stir under my hands. For a brief moment, he was completely still and then he jerked his head up and caught my hand in his. I watched silently as he stared at my hand in his with disbelief. His eyes snapped up to mine, and his mouth fell open.

I was swamped with so many emotions, I didn’t know which one to hang on to. I tried to smile at him, to reassure him that I was okay, but the tube made it impossible. I settled for rolling my eyes.

This time I was shocked as Ranger fell to his knees, buried his head in my stomach and cried. It was the second time in 9 months that I caused such a strong man to break.

Immediately, I felt guilty and worried. I didn’t like being responsible for Ranger’s pain. I didn’t like to see him on his knees. I wanted to talk to him, reassure him, and I couldn’t.

I settled my hands in his hair and held him to me as best as I was able. I was silent as Ranger released 9 months of emotions.

I tried to sigh.

Things were okay, I think. And if not, they would be because I had Ranger with me and somehow, we’d be fine.

Us, and our son.

oOoOoOoOoO

The days that followed were bittersweet. Now I know them for what they were….the calm before the storm.

I made plans those first few hours, and I let myself believe that the worst was over.

I think inside I knew that it couldn’t possibly be that easy. Maybe I forced myself into denial, or maybe my subconscious refused to accept the truth.

Anyone who tells you that battling the cancer is the hardest part is lying. If you believe that once you finish treatments, it’s over…think again.

If only I had someone to force me to listen, perhaps I could have avoided pain.

But, I didn’t, and I refused to listen to anything. I was done. I had fought Leukemia and won…right?

Wrong.

And the hardest part of my path still lay before me, and I was oblivious.

oOoOoOoOoO

The tube was removed from my throat, and it left me with a raspy voice and a sore throat. I didn’t care though. It was a small price to pay for comfort.

I was even allowed to shower with Ranger’s help. When I stood up for the first time since the cesarean, it was pure torture. Every step I took hurt, even supported by Ranger. But the shower felt divine. I almost felt like a new person when I emerged from the bathroom.

That was the first time I really took in my surroundings. I was in a private room, no surprise really. However, everything was white and grey. Weren’t birthing suites and postpartum rooms supposed to be in tranquil colors to provide a calm, soothing effect? The door to my room was closed. And when Ranger settled me back into bed, I realized he was wearing hospital issued scrubs instead of his signature black.

I was puzzled and said so. “Uh Ranger, did something happen to your clothes? Why are you wearing scrubs?”

He froze and then looked into my eyes. “No, I have to shower and change before coming into your room. It’s to protect you.”

Now I was really baffled. “Protect me?”

He nodded. “You are on protective isolation for a while to protect you from being exposed to a virus or cold, germs and stuff. Dr. Thompson says you don’t have an immune system right now and if you get sick, then it could have grave consequences on your recovery.”

I sighed. “How long is a while?”

Ranger looked at the floor. “Long enough for you to feel better and be safe.”

He was hiding something from me, but I didn’t know what. I was thrilled to have him with me and only one thing would make it perfect. I wanted to see my son.

“Ranger, I want to see Carrick. If I have to stay here, can you go get him?”

My question was met with complete silence. Ranger wouldn’t look at me, and I was starting to get nervous. “Ranger? Did something happen that you aren’t telling me? Is Carrick okay?”

My voice was growing more shrill as the panic set in again. I was starting to shake when I felt Ranger’s arms gently envelope me. “Sshh, Babe. He’s fine. Completely fine. I’m afraid I can’t bring him here. I’m sorry.”

My mouth fell open in disbelief. “W-what do you mean? I can’t go out of this room you said! And you won’t bring him here, so tell me Ranger! Tell me how I’m supposed to see my son!”

I couldn’t stop the tears that fell and I didn’t want to. I only wanted to see Carrick. Why wasn’t I allowed to see him?

Ranger turned me in his arms and rocked me gently. “Steph, calm down Babe. It’s only for a few days. It’s to keep you and him healthy as well. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

I let Ranger rock me and his words soothe me. But, they didn’t ease the ache in my chest or lessen the need I felt for my son.

Just a few days….

oOoOoOoOoOo

A week after being on isolation, I was feeling antsy and bored. There’s only so much a person can do to pass the time in a sterile room.

I watched the clock like a hawk. Ranger was supposed to visit at 5, and I couldn’t wait for the distraction. He visited every day and I knew he wanted to stay, but Carrick had been released the day before.

God, I wanted to see my son. I understood the doctor’s reasoning, but it didn’t make it any easier for me. It also didn’t help that I was faced with aching breasts, full of milk in which to feed my baby….only I couldn’t. Some thoughtful nurse brought me a sterile breast pump. I pumped religiously, and then watched sadly as I poured the milk down the drain. It wasn’t safe for him to drink my milk yet, not with the medications they had me on. However, I pumped so the milk wouldn’t dry up, and maybe I could feed him once I got released.

Promptly at 5, Ranger walked through the door and greeted me with a tired smile. He looked exhausted. Guilt overwhelmed me again. Poor Ranger…he was burning the candle at both ends, taking care of Carrick and then visiting me and running Rangeman. I was powerless to do anything to help him. I cursed my situation again and flashed him a bright smile.

Even though it had only been a few hours, I was positively giddy to see him. And when he held up pictures of a baby, I squealed in anticipation. They would be the first photos I’d seen of my son… well, the first time I seen him period.

I stared at those pictures for a long time. I traced Carrick’s face with my finger, imagining I could feel his baby soft skin. He was such a beautiful baby and looked so much like his daddy that my heart ached.

Ranger sat silently in a chair and watched me absorb what I could of our son. A small smile played on his lips as if he found my action amusing. I grinned at him sheepishly and then turned back to the pictures.

At eight o’clock, Ranger had to leave. I sighed as I stood and hugged him tightly. “Thank you for bringing me the photos. It’s the next best thing to seeing him.”

Ranger chuckled in my ear and hugged me back. “You’re welcome Babe. I’m glad they made you happy.”

I sighed, not wanting to let him go. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Ranger’s body tensed against mine for a few seconds and he released his breath slowly. “I’m not sure what time I’m going to make it tomorrow. I’m interviewing nannies to take care of Carrick while I work or visit you.”

It made sense. And I knew it made sense. But, that didn’t change the fact that I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest.

A stranger taking care of my child…a child I haven’t even seen.

Ranger hugged me to him one more time and whispered, “I’m sorry Stephanie.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded and watched him leave. As the door shut with a resounding ‘click’, I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. More tears came and soon, I was sobbing.

My heart was breaking, again.

That night was a turning point for me. And perhaps, I should have said something to the doctor or nurse, but I didn’t.

I kept it to myself.

oOoOoOoOoO

The days following were more of the same. Ranger would visit and for a few short hours, I was happy. I hung on every word and every story that Ranger shared about Carrick. He spoke with the pride of a new father. I found myself a little envious and jealous that he knew our son so well, and I didn’t. I only knew what he told me. I was like an outsider, looking in.

I hated it.