The steps leading up to the farm house are definitely not the best place to sit down. Even now, it's only been a few minutes, I can feel my body hating me for it. Pregnant women shouldn't make it a habit of sitting on steps in the middle of the night. I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm lonely, I miss her. I miss her so much I can barely breathe. So I'm sitting here in a long nightgown, a shawl wrapped around my shoulders, even though I'm not cold. It just feels good to have something wrapped around me.

I want nothing more than for it to be Olivia's arms.

Deep breath.

No tears.

Things will be okay. I should go back to bed. Go into the empty house, the even emptier bed. What else is there to do but restlessly lay there, tossing and turning...

Losing faith?

I've made such a complete mess of things. When I left I didn't think that things would turn out this way.

Of course I knew things would turn out like this.

I just didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe it.


I should have called her. I'm sitting here mentally kicking myself for not calling her. It wasn't thoughtlessness, it really wasn't. I was thinking about it every moment of every day. I just couldn't. At first it was too hard to imagine telling her about the pregnancy, telling her that I had to leave, that I needed time. That I was losing faith in everything that I believed in. Me, her, us, God. How to put that into words? I couldn't. So I left. When I was finally able to begin to deal with everything it was too late to call.

Too late because Olivia would be just as furious with me over two weeks of silence in comparison to four...

Too late because everything that I had to say was better said in person...

Too late because I am a complete coward.

I put my hands over my face resisting the urge to scream in frustration. I'd come up with this perfect plan and the only one that was following it was me. I was supposed to come back, declare my love for Olivia, and be swept into her arms. I was supposed to tell Frank about the baby and he would want to be in the baby's life, want Olivia to be in the baby's life. Want the baby to have all of the love in the world.

Were my expectations unrealistic?

Of course they were, but if I had allowed myself to be realistic I never would have come back. At least Emma was happy to see me. One thing that I can hold onto, one bright light in all of this. I can't allow myself to think about Olivia never forgiving me. I can't think about Frank fighting me for what I want for our baby. I can't think about spending the rest of my life without Olivia and Emma in it. If I do then all of those weeks spent away from the woman I love will mean nothing. Will have all been for nothing, and I can't deal with that.

So I won't. I'll take a deep breath, put a smile on my face and pretend everything is going to be okay.

Sometimes I think there's a very thin line between faith and delusion.

I choose to call it faith.