#gave myself hand cramps typing this at 1am

[fourleafclovxr]

11: your turn

“Your turn,” Agatha says. Someone raises their voice from the room below— high, piercing, ugly. It’s probably Rhian’s mother. Who thought Sader family reunions were a good idea?

“Hurry up, Rhian,” Japeth snaps. He’s in a bad mood today. Understandable, but so is Rhian, and he’s not taking it out on anyone.

He fumbles with his cards anyway. Agatha has just put down a yellow reverse card, throwing the direction of play right back at him; he puts down a yellow five, leaving Japeth to groan as he snatches a card from the draw pile.

“I’ll get you back for that,” he grumbles. It’s hard to tell whether he’s being serious. It’s been getting harder and harder these days.

“You can try,” Rhian retorts anyway, and Japeth snorts something like a half-laugh. A joke, then. It wasn’t very funny.

It’s Agatha’s turn, again. “Uno,” she says, as she slaps down a blue five, brandishing her one last card triumphantly. “I’m going to win.”

Rhian eyes his own hand of ten cards, then Japeth’s with twelve after Agatha had hit him with a double plus four. “It’s not like you have very steep competition,” he points out.

“Not all of us listened to everything Mom told us to do, Rhian,” Japeth says, rolling his eyes. “I played Uno with my friends in primary school. You’re the only first-time player here.”

“Your friend,” Rhian coughs. He gets an elbow to the stomach and a dark scowl for the trouble. Not his fault it’s true. But he’s going to have a bruise on his ribs for a good few days.

“Like you’re any better,” Japeth hisses. “You and Kei.”

“Yeah, but Kei isn’t crazy,” Rhian mutters.

“Okay, I get that this is very much not my area of expertise,” Agatha intervenes, “or my business, but if you guys are going to kill each other, can you wait until we finish playing? Because I want to win.”

“You’re weirdly chill about this,” Rhian says, even as Japeth subsides into an angry silence.

“My best friend tried to ruin my life in first year,” Agatha offers. “I know a lot about crazy friends. Or, you know. Only having one friend. Not to rush you, but it’s your turn again.”

No blue cards, no fives. Rhian shrugs and picks another card off the draw pile. Plus two. Nice. “Right. Nice talking with you.”

“Good talk,” Agatha agrees. Japeth slaps a blue skip card onto the pile, and it’s back to Rhian again, who takes another card in due resignation.

“I’m going to catch up,” Japeth mutters, “just you wait,” and puts another blue card down.

There’s the sound of something breaking downstairs. Agatha pauses, hand halfway towards the draw pile, and Rhian and Japeth exchange tense looks. Again, with feeling: who thought a Sader family reunion was a good idea?

Uncle August, that’s who. Rhian has nothing against the man; he’s likeable, and he’s kind. Definitely kinder than Rhian’s mother is. But he has such terrible ideas sometimes.

“This is why Uncle July doesn’t come to family dinner, isn’t it,” he mutters.

“He doesn’t come to family dinner with us because he hates our mother,” Japeth says, deadpan. “He goes to family dinner with Agatha.” He says this matter-of-factly. Rhian doesn’t really want to know how he found out. It probably wasn’t pretty.

“He does, yeah,” Agatha sighs. “It’s really awkward, though, because his kids are closer to my dad’s age than they are to mine, and then I end up sitting there with no one to talk to.”

“Still better than whatever’s going on down there,” Rhian says gloomily. He’s ninety percent sure his mother threw something at someone. Only a little less sure that it was at Uncle August.

“I don’t know why your dad tries,” Japeth says to Agatha, bitter. “Mom’s not going to like him anytime soon.”

“He’s gotta try,” Agatha says quietly. “Sucks to give up on family.”

“I’d give up on her in a heartbeat,” Rhian volunteers.

Japeth turns to him, mouth drawn up in a half-snarl, and for a second Rhian really, truly believes that Japeth is going to— what? Jump him? Bite him? He’s done it all before. But Agatha’s there, so he doesn’t. All he says is, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Alright, fine,” Rhian mutters. They don’t agree on her. It’s fine. They don’t talk about it, and that’s why Rhian can still tolerate talking to his brother. And the other way around.

They’re each other’s closest friend, unfortunately. They know everything about each other. Sure, there’s Aric, and there’s Kei— sweet, serious Kei. But they came later.

It’s been Rhian and Japeth against the world all their lives.

And it sucks massively.

Because Japeth is screwed up in the head. Because Rhian is supposed to be normal, and he can hardly go around being normal when his brother is half-insane. Rebellious one moment, mommy’s boy the next.

Because maybe, just maybe, that’s all Rhian is ever going to get. To deserve.

“Your turn, Rhian,” Agatha interrupts. She says it gently; with no bite behind it. Quite unlike Rhian’s brother. He puts down a card absently. Japeth rolls his eyes as he takes another from the draw pile.

What Rhian wouldn’t give to be Agatha’s brother, instead. August Sader’s son. They seem happy. Normal.

The door slams open. It’s their mother. Of course it is.

“We’re leaving,” she snaps. She doesn’t even acknowledge Agatha before she storms out.

Rhian drops his cards. He fumbles to sweep them up, but it’s too late, they’re all face up for Agatha and Japeth to see. Can’t even get this right. Can’t even play a game right.

Mother never allowed games. Said they had to focus on their schoolwork, and their extracurriculars, and their portfolios, and Rhian did, he did, so why is everything still so screwed up—?

His hands are shaking. That’s not good.

“Hey,” Agatha says, alarmed. “Hey, it’s just a game. It’s okay. We can play again sometime, we’ll see each other in school anyway— well.” She winces.

Rhian goes to school with Agatha, because he got out of Arbed on scholarship. Japeth is still there.

“Whatever,” Japeth says dismissively. It’s entirely possible that he genuinely doesn’t care. Rhian sometimes wonders whether he has feelings at all. “Rhian. Let’s go.” He's already dropped his cards, reaching for the rest of his things. It’s easier not to argue, when she’s angry, and they both know it.

“Yeah, okay,” Rhian says, softer.

The door opens, again, nudged open by the end of a cane. “Dad,” Agatha says. “Hey. Are we going home, too?”

“Agatha,” Uncle August acknowledges, warmth diffusing through his voice. He’s always much more open around her. “We can if you want, since Rhian and Japeth are leaving. But it’s your choice. Also— hello, you two. I’m sorry about all that.”

“It’s okay,” Rhian says. Their mother has never apologised for anything, so this is already a step up in his books.

Uncle August sighs. “I don’t think it's the last you'll be hearing of it.”

“What did you do that pissed her off so bad?” Japeth asks carelessly, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Ah,” Uncle August says delicately. He’s definitely stalling.

“Dad?” Agatha asks, voice tilting into a question. Great. Rhian wasn’t about to point it out.

“It has to do with their father,” Uncle August answers.

Their father? Rafal hasn’t talked to them in months. He normally just pretends they don't exist. Unless he’s been talking to their mother again?

“We’d know if he did anything,” Japeth snaps. “Mom would be yelling at us about it for weeks. Saying we’re just like him. I’m just like him.” He gets defensive about their father, too. The name gave him a bit of a complex. RJ. Rhian is glad it wasn’t him.

But the Saders aren't supposed to know who their father is. Their mother never told anyone. Never tells anyone a thing about him. Rhian and Japeth don’t talk about him either. No exceptions.

“What is going on,” he says.

Uncle August hesitates, still. His fingers twist up and down the head of his cane.

“You’re not supposed to know about him!” Japeth seethes. Took him long enough.

“I did not, no,” Uncle August says thinly, “until tonight.”

“Stop talking in riddles,” Agatha pipes up. “Just tell it to them straight, Dad.” Her eyes are bright with curiosity, and worry. She’s probably dying to know, too.

“He’s seeing your father, that’s what he wants to say,” someone else says. It’s Uncle January, the eldest brother, suddenly appearing at his youngest sibling’s shoulder.

“He’s what?” Rhian demands.

“Seeing your father,” Uncle January repeats.

“No, I heard you the first time, what the fuck,” he spits. Uncle August has the decency to look slightly apologetic— no, he doesn’t even have anything to apologise for, he didn’t even know. Didn’t know Rafal was their father, the father who left them with Evelyn Sader as their only trusted adult, the father who left, full stop. That only makes Rhian angrier. How dare he feel sorry. He doesn’t even know—

Japeth snatches up his bag and storms out of the room, shoving past their two uncles; Uncle January slips away to follow him with a worried crease of his eyebrows. Clearly he’s having trouble processing. Rhian is too. But he’s just sitting there, numb, so he’s not really doing any better. Never mind.

“Um,” Agatha says, with polite disbelief. “Sorry, what? The man from the university, with the silver hair. That’s Rhian’s dad?”

“Yes,” Rhian mumbles, “fuck, he teaches at the university, he dyes his hair because he thinks it looks nice.” He presses his head between his knees. This cannot be happening. This actually cannot be happening.

“I don’t intend to let it continue,” Uncle August says, somewhat like a promise.

“No,” Rhian says, with feeling. “I mean— don’t do that on our behalf. Yeah, he left and everything, but honestly. Who wouldn't leave our mother? Have you met her? She’s crazy.”

“Rhian,” Uncle August says quietly.

“No, she’s actually crazy,” Rhian assures him. “She didn’t let me have a phone until I was fifteen because she was scared it would stunt my learning. She doesn’t let me talk to Kei outside of school. She doesn’t care that Japeth is screwed in the head. I’m telling you, anyone who left her was definitely making the right choice.”

“Be it as it may,” Uncle August says, “I don't want her to take it out on you.”

“She does that anyway,” Rhian says. “Might as well be of some use.”

Uncle August exhales. “You’re just a child,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have to think of these things.”

“Tell that to our mother. Oh wait, you probably did,” Rhian says, a little hysterical. “S’why she hates you. She hates that you're always so good. So upright. Things always go your way. You’re too good, Uncle August. You’re not the same as we are.”

“We’re family, Rhian,” Uncle August says, low and tired.

“It’s gotta count for something,” Agatha says, finally. “That we’re family.”

Rhian wants to ask her: what does it count for, exactly? There’s no point. Everyone hates their little branch of the family. Their nonexistent— well, existent now— father, their crazy mother, the two of them, equally screwed up in their own ways, just that Rhian is more considerate about it. Everyone else is normal. Happy.

“Maybe it does,” he says, “for you.”

“Man,” Agatha says. She turns away from him to collect the fallen Uno cards, shove them in the box and hand them to Rhian. “Look, this is what it counts for, okay? You take those, play with Kei or whoever, with Japeth. The next time we see each other in school, we’re playing and I’m kicking your ass, and you’re giving that back to me. That's what this means.”

Rhian blinks, reflexively taking the box of cards she drops in his lap. “Come again?”

“You’re not just turning away from me like that,” Agatha says, quieter. “From us.” Uncle August nods in the hallway, mouth curling in gentle, fatherly pride. Rhian’s heart wrenches for a second. Flings itself off-beat. It would be so easy to turn away. It’s how he’s lived all this while. No one but Japeth; no one but himself.

But he wants this. He’s never wanted anything more.

“Your turn, next,” he says, finally, and Agatha smiles.

“Bet,” she says agreeably, and Rhian finds himself smiling, despite it all.

[niall-is-my-dream]

You & Me - Part Eight

2500 words

Sydney, Australia

Callie's POV

"This is perfect." You mumbled to Tara. You were sat on a massive seating area at the end of a boat, sipping a beer whilst sailing on Sydney Harbour.

"Apart from those Paps on that boat over there." She replied.

"Bastards never leave him alone do they? Suppose it's good press for tour, him hanging out on this boat with his friends and crew."

"Yeah I suppose. I found it so weird when I first started working for him. He's the first high profile person I've worked for. We were spotted coming out of a club in L.A. together, Paps had a field day. It was only when some fans kindly pointed out that I work for him and that not every girl he's seen with is romantic that they laid off me."

She's must have noticed your horrified face because she backed it up with. "Don't worry about it, ok?"

"To be honest I've only ever experienced the comments on Instagram. They actually weren't that bad, but then they just think I'm his guitar tech."

The two of you were sat alone, the first time in ages that you'd had a chance to talk to her privately.

"What's bothering you Callie?" She asked, looking around to make sure no one could hear.

 "Nothing, I'm fine."

 "You know you can talk to me."

 "I know I can."

 She looked at you, knowing you were lying about being fine. There was something bothering you, Saskia. You had stupidly stalked her Instagram and Twitter. She had so many subtle posts about Niall, the one she posted just yesterday had tipped your anxiety over the edge.

 "Saskia posted about being in an airport around the time we were flying here yesterday." You said, your voice low.

 "I know she did. I've been watching her activity."

 "You have?"

 "Yeah, it's my job. After Nialls email to management about her harassing him, I've been asked to watch her and her friends and see what they're up to."

 "It really got to me." You admitted.

 "I know this doesn't help, but just ignore her ok, don't check it again. I'll deal with it." She said as she tried to reassure you.

 "I think Niall is finding it stressful. He says it's just nerves for tour and the album release, but I know that's not just it."

You'd spoken about a lot of things when you'd been together on your 'first date' back in Sweden less than a week ago. Snuggled up in bed, having consumed pizza and beer you talked until nearly 1am. The 'what are we?' chat had happened and you'd both blushed when you admitted that you had been thinking about it a lot. 

Niall hadn't had a girlfriend in a few years, having just casually dated since then. He had first met up with Saskia back in December 2016 after a Jingle Bell Ball show. They knew some mutual musicians and had swapped numbers. It became apparent to him she was using him for attention when he was celebrating the success of slow hands. She posted numerous times on social media in May hinting about him and by June when she showed up at nearly all the summer shows he appeared in, he had had enough.

You were pleased that he had shared this information with you. He explained that he had told her after they first went out, that he didn't want anything serious with her. She obviously felt that he would fall for her and want something serious after a while, but of course that never happened.

Breaking things off with her at the end of June had been a relief for him. He didn't ghost her or anything nasty, he just suggested at their last meeting that they should go their separate ways. Of course this didn't go down well with her and she continued to text him almost everyday and then she turned up at rehearsals a month ago and then the Dublin show.

He showed you her messages, the latest one being sent to him that day, whilst you were in the hotel room together. She went from being sweet about him doing so well with his shows to being downright nasty that he had decided to end things with her. Thinking she was quite the catch, she didn't understand how her, a beautiful successful model had been dumped.

Niall hadn't replied to any of her messages for weeks. Choosing to ignore her and hoping she'd get the hint. But her appearance at his Dublin show had really shook him and that's when he decided to get management involved.

Sitting here with Tara and seeing Niall finally relaxing with his friends made you immensely happy. Tara's reassurance that Saskia was being watched and that management were dealing with it made you feel a bit better.

"You having another beer?" You asked Tara.

"No, think I'll just stick to water. Pace myself!"

"Was thinking the same thing. I'll go get us some."

You stood up and made your way to the main area of the boat, some of the lads were sitting by the bar. You saw Niall look up when he heard you approach and give you a smile. Deciding to pop to the loo before you got your drinks, you made your way below deck to find them. You were just washing your hands when you heard a tap at the door.

"I'll be just a second." You called out as you dried your hands.

"It's me." You heard Niall reply.

You smirked and shook your head as you opened the door to him. His expression matched yours and as you went to step out of the stall he made a step forward and guided you back in there.

"Ni." You whispered.

"Just five minutes." He said, as he leaned into kiss you.

The stall was small and cramped but he had you pushed up against the locked door in less than a minute. Breaking away from his kiss, you smiled as your eyes met his.

"Can't keep away can you?" You whispered.

"Nope." He whispered back. "Just wanted to kiss my girlfriend in private."

You nervously bit your lower lip and blushed before leaning in and kissing him again.

You walked up the steps to the main deck five minutes later and were instantly met by 3 pairs of eyes. Gerry, John and Jake all smiling disturbingly at you.

"Everything ok lads?!" You questioned, your eyebrow raised.

"Oh grand Callie, just grand." Gerry replied.

"Good."

"Oh look, Nialls there to." John smirked as Niall made his way up the steps behind you.

"Look a bit flushed there Callie. You feeling ok?" Gerry asked you, a look of compete glee on his face.

"I'm fine thank you." You replied, shaking your head in amusement that the lads had clearly figured out something was going on between you two.

Niall made his way over to the table by the bar where the lads were sitting and took a swig from his beer.

"Oh would you look at that!" John said. "Nialls a bit flushed to."

"Enough of that Bird." He replied, his eyes going across the boat to a couple of management and crew who were luckily not in listening distance.

"Right you are." John replied, instantly toning down his banter.

You knew the lads would figure it out soon enough and you trusted Niall when he said he wouldn't tell anyone anything. But they were a close band and spent a lot of their free time together, so his absence from their group sometimes would easily be noticed.

Grabbing two bottles of water from the bar you made your way back over to Tara.

"Thanks babe." She said as she took the cold bottle from you.

"I think the lads have realised Niall and I are together." You whispered as you sat down.

"Why what did they say?" 

You relayed the last five minutes back to her and she laughed.

"It's so obvious sometimes that you're together, I mean he hasn't stopped looking over here at us for the past hour."

"I didn't notice." You replied and you meant it, too busy enjoying the beautiful sun and views of the harbour.

This was exactly the type of experience you had hoped for when you'd joined the crew. You'd always wanted to travel, especially to Australia. 

"Don't worry about them, if they have figured it out they won't tell anyone."

"Honestly, us keeping this a secret is harder than I thought. I didn't realise it was that obvious that we are together."

"You forget how close as a team we all are."

You laugh lightly at this, you knew you had seriously underestimated how difficult this was going to be.

The crowd in Sydney were amazing, they had clearly been online and viewed the Dublin, London and Stockholm shows. Everyone knew the words to all his songs. Niall was absolutely buzzing when he got off stage. He embraced you with a big sweaty hug, you should've been grossed out by it but you weren't. Placing a kiss to your temple, he let you go before high fiving the rest of the crew.

You were in complete awe of this man and could feel yourself falling more and more for him. So much had happened in such a short space of time that you suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you walked quickly away from everyone. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head as you did.

Splashing some cold water on your face helped calm you down. You looked in the mirror, silently giving yourself a pep talk.

Don't ruin this Callie, you've got this.

Keep calm.

Don't get scared.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you careful took some long slow breaths.

Ellie came suddenly bursting through the bathroom door.

"Are you ok?!" She asked, the worry evident on her face.

"Yes, sorry. Was so hot backstage. Just needed to cool myself down." You replied calmly.

"Are you sure? Niall said the colour just drained from your face. He's really worried about you."

"Oh, I should go tell him I'm ok. I didn't mean to worry everyone. Was just so hot back there." You replied using your hand to fan yourself.

Ellie reached across and stroked your arm, the support that the whole team gave each other was strong. Her touch and kind words instantly calmed you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Taking it out and looking at the screen you saw it was Niall.

"That Niall?" Ellie asked.

"Yeah it is. Didn't mean to worry him. Just got a bit too hot."

"I'll get going, I've got to finish packing up. Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine, thanks Ellie."

You leaned in and gave her a hug, which she returned.

"Take it easy packing up."

"I will."

She turned and left, leaving you alone. You looked down and read Nialls mesage.

"Babe are you ok? Where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom, Ellie has been with me. Sorry, was too hot backstage."

"Are you sure you're ok? Come to my dressing room."

"I can't, I have to go back and help pack up. Come find me when you're showered."

"Are you sure you're ok? I'm really worried about you. X"

"Honestly Ni, I'm fine. You did amazing tonight. X"

"Thanks babe, I'll come find you when I'm done."

Checking your appearance in the mirror, you straightened out your shirt before breathing out a massive sigh.  You started to feel more relaxed and even slightly stupid for overreacting. The way you were feeling about him should be embraced. You had no idea if he felt exactly like you did, but you knew he liked you a lot. Staying up with him talking the other night and his need to sleep next to you assured you of that.

When you got back to the stage, Adam and James checked on you before offering you a bottle of water. The crew always looked out for eachother. You started to pack away Nialls guitars ready to be transported to Japan for the next leg of the tour. The pack up for a flight was a bit more than when it was being transported by road. Martin gave you all the labels you needed, your worst fear was one of them going missing.

The atmosphere tonight was infectious and everyone was singing and laughing as you packed up. You had done enough shows with Niall over the last ten months to have a good setting up and down system. Niall appeared a little while later, freshly showered and dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. He made a beeline straight for you, not caring who saw him he reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

"You ok?" He asked his eyes full of concern. He stroked his thumb gently across your cheek.

"Yeah, I'm fine. As I said I was just a bit hot."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I was just was hot, overwhelmed, it was all a bit too much. I'm sorry I worried you."

You were aware of everyone around you, some looking your way. Niall noticed to and quickly moved his hand down from your face. He didn't move away from you though. Leaning down and whispering gently to you.

"You can talk to me, you know if you're worried about something. I know this is new to us both."

His eyes showed he was worried about you, it made your heart flutter. Was he talking about the tour being new to you both or the relationship you had decided to embark on?

"I know I can babe." You replied smiling.

"You really had me worried Petal." Your heart that was already fluttering in your chest began to beat faster at his use of the cute pet name.

"Honestly, I was fine." You said reaching your hand out and giving his hip a squeeze in reassurance.

"I wish I could kiss you right now." He mumbled. 

"Plenty of time for that later." You smirked.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"I stay with you every night Mr I can't sleep without you!"

"Hey! Can't help it. Ever since that first night at yours, I find I sleep much better when you're next to me."

You smirked and shook your head.

"What? Don't hear you complaining when I snuggle up to you?!" He added.

"I sleep better with you too." You admitted.

Later that night as you snuggled up together in Nialls hotel room, you felt truly at ease.

"Cal, you awake?" Niall whispered in the darkness.

"Hmmm."

"I'm so happy we're together."

The flutters were back again as you replied, "me to."

Part nine

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183066083788/you-me-part-nine

[renrutnnej]

I never wanted to be a mother

Oh boy, the miracle of birth and whatnot!

I’m really bad at absolutes. For example, as long as I can remember I’ve told people I never wanted to be a wife or a mother. As a little girl I remember looking at both jobs and being like, “Nah.”

My daughter was not my first pregnancy. The first time I was en-wombed was in university and I was a freshman who in the short span of six months time was sexually assaulted, and entered into a volatile physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Because of some mental health problems and a total lack of self esteem, I didn’t see either of these things in their correct light, I just thought my first year away from home was a real education in female adulthood.

Fortunately my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Is it weird or wrong to say that? I don’t think so. I was 19 and had already chipped a front tooth from being punched in the face by my boyfriend. So when I think about that time in my life, I don’t feel any guilt. Also I didn’t know I was pregnant until it was too late and what I thought was the worst period of my life was actually a miscarriage.

This gave me the impression that my physical person was a hostile environment to children. It proved that I knew I could and would not be a mother, ever.

—

To talk about my daughter’s birth, I have to set the stage, which in retrospect I’ve always described as an unfortunate series of events, but now I realize fully how incomplete and lacking in good substance my life would have been without her. I have to look at these events as exactly the way things were supposed to happen.

First, I could not find a writing job out of college (I graduated with a degree in English literature, lucrative I know). All of my self esteem issues came to a head and I resigned myself to the fact that I had been posing in college as a person with ambition when really I was going to end up staying a small town person working retail or as another’s administrative assistant or something.

Second, my sister graduated from college the following year and decided to move to Las Vegas. Through zero seconds of trying to convince me I decided to come along. Also our parents were already living there (they had moved while we were both in university).

This new start inspired me and I decided to do something completely different with my life. I was going to change the world by joining the Peace Corps. Whoa, except that stipend does NOT even come close to covering my credit card bills and student loans. Umm, backup plan, I was going to change the world by teaching English in South America, somewhere like Argentina or something. In the meantime I had to save up for this adventure so I took the first job I could, in retail.

Third, sexism has pissed me off for a long time. Growing up tomboy really instilled an (arguably ignorant) type of jealous competitiveness in me. Anything they can do, I can do better, or in the very least I can do it too. So when my male peers (retail managers) were having relationships with younger employees, I decided to too. I’m a modern woman, and cougars were like definitely a thing by then. I started hooking up with a very hot, barely legal (but also very legal), sales associate.

Next, in a few months time my sister moved to Seattle and my parents moved back to Washington state. They moved me into my own apartment on Warm Springs and back home to Richland in the same weekend. Finally I was a modern woman living in Las Vegas, with her lifelong companion cat (i.e., cat I picked out when I was 6 years old) Beauty, making it happen.

Just kidding, I got pregnant.

—

Getting pregnant a second time was a complete shock. And by that I mean, I thought it was impossible. As in, not even within the realm of possibility.

I’d been having some lady troubles for sometime and since my sister had had Exorcist level kidney stone problems I went to the doctor right away for fear. The doctor confirmed what I had known since I was 19. Well, almost. She said it appeared that my symptoms might be an indication that I was infertile. Twenty-four year old me: duh. But they still had to run the tests.

Getting pregnant brought intricate complexity and mind-numbing simplicity to my life. Having to tell the parents of my 18 year old (now boyfriend, ugh) that I was pregnant was terrifying. Having to tell my parents, worse.

No more changing the world.

No more Argentina.

No more writing.

No more freedom.

I had just fast tracked my path to wife and mother by being a “modern woman” making things happen.

No more infertility, what the hell?

And since this was clearly a miracle baby, getting rid of her never once entered my mind. This was obviously a baby Jesus type situation.

We moved from Vegas to Kansas City with his family. To say it politely, my parents weren’t pleased by my condition and the distance did us both a lot of good (I told myself). His family, on the other hand, were very happy and excited by the baby’s coming. At least they always gave the very genuine appearance of being so. I was less excited.

Actually I was the most depressed I’d been in my life at that point. I knew my body was a hostile place to fetuses so what the heck!?

I absolutely could not imagine the whole exit strategy of my situation. Instead I imagined death.

I took lots of time to myself and wrote pages and pages of tear-stained journals I can’t bear to read now. I slept as much as I could. I was mourning my death while I was still alive, growing a life inside of me.

Also I had to get rid of my cat, what the fuck.

—

I knew I was never meant to be anyone’s mother and so I was positive I would carry this baby to term and die during labor, and she would be cared for by this warm and loving family. And I would die young like I’d always predicted. Well, youngish.

My OBGYN became worried by my morbid questions about death rates.

I refused to have a baby shower or anything resembling a baby shower because I couldn’t imagine celebrating the event that was going to kill me.

My lamaze class teacher asked me stop asking questions about worst case scenarios because I was scaring the other mothers.

—

Working in retail brought about what I felt to be appropriate levels of shame and self-hatred.

Strangers, assuming me to be much younger than I was, made completely hideous comments about me and my baby, and my education (lol, right). I was constantly touched and given advice by strangers, interrogated regularly.

My retail district was close to a particularly violent one regarding shoplifters. Other managers in my store had been maced or stabbed with the tools shoplifters brought into stores to break off the security tags. One day I found the equivalent of a shiv in the front room of my store and went into the stockroom and had a complete mental and emotional break down imagining approaching the wrong customer just one time.

I felt I deserved this, though it enraged me. This was my penance.

My hormones surged. I snuck as many drinks of wine at family dinners as I could. (Sorry baby, but red wine is delicious). I had nightmares about delivering babies with heads shaped like deflated basketballs, or delivering piles of bloody guts. I obsessed over my single friends awesome lives (aka highlight reels) on Facebook.

It made me bitter that I had to die. I became resentful of my baby’s father, even though he tried his best with me. He wanted to marry me and have more kids, be a dad. I knew she’d be okay. Hopefully he’d marry someone who wasn’t anything like me or that evil stepmom bitch in Cinderella.

I’d end up letting him name her. I chose her middle name, Violet.

—

It began one Sunday night, after a large steak dinner (with red wine) at his parents. I kept feeling like I had to poop really bad every twenty minutes. It was so bad that I couldn’t sleep. By 1am I was on the toilet trying to push steak out and when I saw drops of blood, I freaked out. IT’S TIME! I screamed.

He sprung into action. What do we bring? Spoiler alert, I hadn’t even packed a “go” bag because I never planned on coming back.

We listened to Jason Mraz on the short drive to the hospital. God, this is the last song I’m ever going to hear. I focused on the words and tried to clear my mind of pushing all of my guts out.

When we got to the hospital, they did some tests and I wasn’t far enough along. Maybe this is a fake out, and I can go home and go to bed. No, the nurse told me, you’ll progress it just takes a little time.

Another nurse came in and did a quick ultrasound to see the baby’s position. Her tone worried me, looks like this one’s a breach baby. You’ll have to adjust your birthing plan. Just knock me out, I sighed. Oh oops, those are the baby’s shoulders. I thought it was her butt. She was low and engaged, and I was fine. That fucking nurse.

So he walked me around the hospital corridors while I had the worst cramps of my life. I tried not to cry.

This is how it ends, me alone in the hospital, out in the midwest, without any of my friends or family, with this kid, and this other kid inside me.

Around 4am I finally reached a point where I could get pain meds and this other drug that would help my labor progress while I was medicated, but first they had to break my water. I was terrified of any more pain. They showed me what looked like a knitting needle that they’d insert to break the membrane. The nurse assured me, her name was Bridget by the way, that it was painless. I sobbed. Couldn’t they just knock me out. My knees clamped shut and I couldn’t keep from trembling.

But it was painless and suddenly I was sitting in a puddle of what just felt like warm pee. That was it, water broken. I felt like an idiot. The drugs came quickly after that and by 5am I had progressed to the point that I could get the one thing that was keeping me going through this whole ordeal: an epidural.

The anesthesiologist came in and sat me perpendicular to the gurney. He told me to sit still because he was putting a needle the length of a ruler down my spine. But the painkillers really got to me and I had to crack jokes about how the only thing separating my naked body from the doctors and nurses in that room was a piece of paper gown. My boyfriend looked white. I was already stoned.

Afterward, I was finally comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep quickly. Bridget came in once an hour on the hour and put her whole hand in my vagina to see how far down the head was. I didn’t like being woken up but I couldn’t really feel anything and Bridget was my best friend at that point.

Around 10:45am things picked up. My baby’s dad was downstairs eating breakfast with his family when Bridget told me I’d need to call him, I was almost at 10 centimeters. He came back with his mom and Bridget told me now when I felt the urge to push to do it.

I didn’t want to poop on the table and I couldn’t get up to like clear things out before I labored a baby so I gave some weak ass pushes. Bridget could tell.

I gave one hard push and she exclaimed, JUST LIKE THAT! But I saw his face and I knew I had pooped. The shame. But again, I was stoned so meh.

Strangely I had turned down the floor length mirror at the foot of the bed because I didn’t want to see myself die, but if the end was coming I really didn’t want to see it.

“Bridget can you take off your glasses? With the lights and everything I can see my vagina and I really just can’t right now.”

She did.

With his mom video recording the monumental eruption and destruction of my vagina, my first child was born at 11:25 am. The doctor, I don’t know when she showed up (?), put the blue, guts covered baby on my chest.

She was out. I had tried not to picture her before because I never wanted to let myself go down that road in my mind.

I looked at her. She looked at me. She was gross. But she was an alive thing with eyes who looked at me. She looked like she’d been freezing (she was blue) in bloody Cream of Wheat. Also she had pooped in utero and that was everywhere, super great.

I had nothing profound to say, so I said, “Oh my god, a baby.”

Then they whisked her away to clean her up and do all the baby tests. Everyone else left too.

My body got overtaken with waves of pregnancy hormones coursing through me while I delivered the placenta and my whole body convulsed as the pregnancy hormones left me. NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THE PLACENTA. Jesus.

The doctor began to clean up the volcanic eruption where my lower lady parts used to live. I knew I had felt a slight burning sensation during the birth, but I didn’t know it was a tear. I simply thought it was the slight onset of death.

It didn’t make sense to me that I was alive.

I had no plan for this. I didn’t even bring a nightgown.

Now what?

—

As of the time of my pregnancy, I can’t recall seeing any birth or pregnancy narratives that highlighted feelings like fear, depression, or general reservations without framing them them as fleeting blue aspects of an otherwise golden soft lit scenario. That’s not real life. I’m sharing my story, because even though I was certainly depressed, I don’t know that my feelings of doubt at the sudden onset of potential motherhood are all that uncommon.

When I share my true feelings and experience with friends, I often hear that other women are relieved by my candor. Dutiful, knowing mother is a trope to which I do not subscribe, and frankly, doesn’t reflect my experience at all. So I’m offering my story as just one against the many almost romantic Disney-esque birth and pregnancy stories. My daughter and I did not live happily ever after, and our relationship, just like any other, is one that has required hard work and patience (a lot of patience) but we’re both better for it.

This story originally appeared on Medium, April 3, 2016.