*****033:

I'd met for about fifteen minutes with my mom. She approved my decision to work as a midwife part time--- not on call, but two mornings a week--- seeing patients and possibly delivering babies if there were any to help with. I met for about fifteen minutes with Veva, the OB/GYN, and then Alton Cooper, the pediatrician. Then, I had about a half an hour with Rebeccah, the senior midwife, who had a lot to say about me not changing things or taking liberties due to my superior experience. I had to remain lowest girl on the totem pole while I was there, do what she said.

I blinked inwardly in surprise, and then shrugged. It may work out, it may not. I wasn't completely committed to the idea, and was sure Rafe would not be.

Then Dianna Thomas, adult counselor, caught me in the hall and asked to speak with me privately. When we sat at her desk in her bright cheery office she sighed and told me it had already been quite a day and it was only ten in the morning. I laughed. In this place, I knew that was entirely possible.

"Aubrey, I am wondering how you are adjusting to having a four-year-old daughter? How are you feeling?"

I smiled. "Well, she and I are getting along much better than when we first started. We've got a routine going."

"And do you feel motherly toward her?"

I winced. "I felt a confirmation from the Holy Ghost that she is to be our daughter, and I assume those motherly feelings will come soon, but I'll admit, there are times I feel like I'm the babysitter."

"That's normal."

"Is it?"

"Love takes time in all relationships. How is she adjusting to you and Rafe?"

"Well, so far we haven't left her alone at all. One of us is with her all the time, and mostly we have been at home. Getting used to each other."

"Does she talk about her parents at all?"

"She does. And I got her a picture I found online, and had it blown up and framed. She keeps it in her bedroom. I am also keeping a memory journal for her, so she won't forget them."

Dianna nodded, her blue eyes lightening with concern. "I am not sure that going back to work is in either of your best interests right now. You are recovering from the miscarriage, and are still really newlyweds. Now to adjust to a four-year-old daughter, who has been through extreme trauma and loss. Both of you should still take it easy--- stick to routines--- in my opinion, don't add anything more into the mix. Anything that might cause anxiety on either of your parts."

I sat there, dumbfounded. No one else had suggested this course except Rafe, who wanted me twenty-four-seven at his beck and call.

I made that come out sounding like I resented him--- I don't. I want to be with him always as well. But now there is Felicity.

We will never be alone ever again.

I ran my hands through my hair and left them there as I stared at the ground. I felt woefully inadequate. Into my line of sight came a little card. "Here is a support group for adoptive parents of older children. It may not answer all your questions, but might be a place to start."

My finger flicked out and gathered the card. By my watch, I could see that Felicity had been out of her session for at least ten minutes and was probably in the playroom now--- or maybe she would be upset that I wasn't right there. I told Dianna thanks and left in a hurry.

The one-way windows overlooking the play area for children whose parents were either adopting, or having a child themselves, or for whatever the need, told me that Felicity was indeed playing. Although she was in a corner by herself. I went to the door, requested my child and was admitted.

"Felicity?" I spoke to her in easy Spanish, as did everyone else in ABCSC, all had to be bi-lingual, as close as we were to the Mexican border. She looked up, did not smile, and put her blocks back in their truck. Then she grabbed her doll and stood.

I went to her, and picked her up. I didn't care that she was four and old enough to walk out on her own. In that moment I felt it was her and me against the---- world.

She was thirsty, so we went to the cafeteria and got vita-waters, grapes, and crackers. Then we headed out to the car. I asked Felicity about things, and she was non-committal, not recalling her session, just the other kids in the play area and what she'd felt there.

I was frustrated with my own sessions, and so drove home listening to our newly burned iTunes Mp3's of Spanish kids songs. Felicity was quiet, and that was good. I wasn't too communicative.

We got home and went straight to the house next door where Rafe and the guys were talking. I listened for a few minutes, and saw Parker and Kareem in the upstairs studio---- there were to be two studios here, and several offices--- in fact five offices. The front of the house had already been converted into a waiting and lounge area, not very big--- the kitchen was the same, but the den had been remodeled into another sound room. A practice room.

Rafe disengaged himself from Jeff and Mutt, and Jeremy came over and hugged me and Felicity, who stayed put in my arms. His eyes were questioning and concerned. "I can see by your bright shining face that you are in your happy go lucky mood." His arm around me was knowing, but comforting. Although it was plain he wasn't free at the moment, and I didn't like feeling so dependent anyway. I just wanted to sort this out--- alone.

I had the weirdest feeling I was about to cry. So I handed Felicity off to him, and turned and marched myself back the way I had come without a word.

I didn't even go back to the house. I didn't turn around, and I didn't run out to the waves. I went to the front of the house, started to run as I got my keys out of my pocket and made it to my car. In seconds I was driving---- just driving.

What in the world was wrong with me?

I felt----- annoyed with myself.

I felt selfish.

I'd been with Rafe 24-7 since the end of May. He followed his dreams. He made things happen. I felt like---- I felt like if I tried to follow my dreams--- which weren't so much dreams as simply my way of life prior to meeting him.... I was being---- selfish--- betraying him--- us.

And Felicity---

I wanted her.

I love her.

I know I do.

I know I do.....

And then, just after turning left, up the cliff side above our gated community, overlooking the ocean, but literally on the dirt road that went nowhere --- I pulled over and banged my head against the steering wheel.

What was happening to me?

This was not the capable person I knew myself to be.

I felt weak--- and miserable for missing a life that I'd already been distancing myself from---- the admission that--- yes, my chosen profession may have been a terrible mistake--- killed me. It literally made me sick to my stomach.

So what was I to do now?

Be a stay at home mom?

I hit the steering wheel hard. My thoughts were swirling--- and this was a relatively new phenomenon. I didn't habitually have stressed out swirling thoughts.

But I didn't usually have a husband---- whose insecurities were pretty much a concern for me. I wanted to reassure him that everything was okay--- when everything wasn't okay.

I wanted to be the perfect wife.

Be the perfect mom----

I'm supposed to have all this training--- I should know what to do, how to do it all. I should not just do it, but I should be good at it. I banged my head again. I did not--- feel--- good--- at--- it.

I felt ---- stupid.

I should have known it would take more time for Felicity to adjust. She's just a four-year-old. She lost her parents--- her grandparents and her cousin. She's lost her culture--- and her home. I should have known she needed me exclusively---- for another year---- year!!!! Or More!!! I should have known that!

And of course, Rafe had to work still. He was a successful pop star. He was a rock star. He was in a band that counted on him. He was on TV---- TV for goodness sake! I should have known--- I should have realized I would be the one mainly taking care of Felicity. Even when he said he'd take time off and be home with her---- he felt it was that important--- apparently more important than I did!

I felt the tears of self-pity raining down my cheeks, and I wiped them hard with the palms of my hands, smearing makeup and feeling even more betrayed by my own whiny baby behavior. This wasn't me! I wasn't a whiny baby!

And then the swirling really exploded.

In the swirls, I began to count images. Things like Jake's death---- the frantic pace of the tour--- the close proximity I wasn't used to--- close--- too close to another human being. I wasn't used to it. I wasn't cut out for it. I could only do it for so long, and now--- like that other time, right before our wedding--- stress was getting to me.

And I knew---

Knew---

I was making my husband anxious. I was doing it to him, and hurting him—and making him insecure--- and he didn't deserve it. I shouldn't be doing this. I was acting----

Behind the swirling images--- there was the knowledge that I'd just abandoned Felicity. Her needs had to come first. I am her mother now! I am her mother!

My mother would never have ditched me like this. I started the car, and then turned it off.

Movement caught out of the corner of my eye caused me to look up.

Coming up the hill--- on foot--- jogging against the wind---

My hero.

My lover.

My man.

I buried my head in the steering wheel again.

I wish all this would just go away.

He stood in front of the car, hands on his slim hips. He was in really, really good shape. Really good....

"Get out." He said from outside, and I could hear him. "Come face it. With me. Now."

I knew he was right. But even then the way he was saying it---

Bugged me. It bugged me to be bossed around.

Even if he was right.

"Aubrey." His tone changed and his voice was tender--- mellow, so sweet and concerned and loving.

"I can't." I mumbled.

"I can't hear you."

"I can't get out. I don't want to face it."

"Come on. You owe yourself the honesty. Just get out and come to me. Make that choice at least."

He opened the car door and stood back. I knew my eyes were red and puffy, I could feel the gritty feel of them. I knew I looked splotchy and ugly. I didn't want Rafe to see me like this. I was tired of him having to rescue me from myself.

"This wasn't what you signed up for." I mumbled as I closed the car door behind me and leaned against it, feeling beat, feeling defeated, feeling stupid.

"It is." He said tenderly. "Take the damn step, Aubrey Angel. Give me your rage and your pain and your tears. Come to me."

I hated being forced. It felt contrived. I wish it didn't feel contrived.

I took one step and stopped.

******