#to the point where i get introduced as 'girl who likes barney half life' to strangers

[fluffymawilefan]

I am sick and tired and sad today so I drew my husband because I wish he was in bed with me

[ginnyweatherby]

You Are So Precious to Me

This is it.  The saddest thing Tumblr User Ginnyweatherby has ever written.  I wanted to play around with one of my OC’s, Madeline, so this was mostly written to get into her head a bit and develop her character more.

Companion piece to this and this.  Same warnings that those have.  It isn’t graphic, but it deals with the loss of a child, and the heartache that may follow.

Twenty years old and had already lived so much. 

Her life wasn't exceptional.  Two parents, happily married.  Two sisters.  All her grandparents were still living, she had a roof over her head and a bright future as a theatre major at Villeneuve University.

Until the day that future wasn't quite so bright.

Young, dumb, and - according to that tiny little stick she'd bought at the drug store - strapped with the responsibility of being a parent.

She'd cried.  She'd cursed.  She went through every stage of denial.

She told Lefou.

He'd cried.  He'd cursed.  He went through every stage of denial.

But they would be okay.  They made their choice, and they would stick to it.

Her parents didn't take the news well.  She was a Straight-A honor student in her Catholic high school.  She kept her nose down and her hands clean.  All logic indicated that this happened to other girls, not to her... but it had, and this is where they were at.

They didn't kick her out, although she feared they would.  The sorrow in her father's eyes and the fire in her mother's made it difficult to breathe.

She was still a good girl.  She stayed away from parties (look where they had gotten her), never drank, or smoked.  She ate well, took her vitamins even though they made her feel sick, and attended every doctor's appointment.

That was her life for the next nine months: juggling work, school, and taking care of this unborn baby that she already loved so much.

In early November, she celebrated the best day of her life - while simultaneously grieving one of the worst.

She had a short opportunity to hold this beautiful baby girl, Lefou having never left her side, before she was whisked away for testing.

It was all routine, she was assured.  Just like when they weighed her (7.5 pounds even) and measured her (20 inches).  When they counted her fingers and toes.  They just had to make sure her hearing was good and that she could see the world around her.  Everything would come back to them, proclaiming their daughter was fit as a fiddle.

Right?

The bassinet was pushed back into their room by the nurse, now followed by a cardiologist.

... Right?

Those three weeks were the greatest three weeks she had ever experienced, although they had a gray rain cloud hovering over them, waiting to burst at any minute and pour over them.

When you knew the worst could - and would - occur, you savored the smallest things.  Every cuddle, every kiss, every yawn and little hiccup were precious.  The click of Lefou's camera was constant, wanting to document every moment, as to never forget.

(She would never forget.)

It was late and she couldn't sleep.  Something was wrong.  Call it motherly instinct, but she knew this could be it.

Three weeks after they were in the hospital, full of fear, accompanied by hopeful anticipation, they were back.

This time, they felt only fear.

She leaned close to the incubator, trying not to cry at the mere sight of all the tubes and wires.  The monitor beeped threateningly nearby.

As long as it continued to beep, they were okay.

She murmured comforting thoughts to the infant.  Nothing someone so small could understand, but she needed to know.  She sang her lullabies.  She told her how much her maman loved her. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The next days... months... years... were a dark time.  She hardly smiled, she rarely spoke.  She didn't understand.  She couldn't understand.  She wanted to understand.

She moved back with her parents, abandoning the apartment she and Lefou had rented.  It had too many memories in it already.  She could hear her cries echo through the halls at night.  She could see her every time she walked past the bedroom.  It still smelled like her.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair!

If she could do anything to change things, she would.  She would do anything to have her daughter back.  She would have done anything to trade places with that innocent child who had hardly began her life, when it was ripped away from her too soon.

She cried a lot.  She cursed a lot.  There was no use going through any stage of denial now.

It got easier.  Somewhat.

She didn't cry every day now.  She went back to school, with the support of her family and friends.  She attended church on Sundays, and tried to make her peace.

Still, it was difficult.

Being as young as she was, it didn't happen much at first, but with every passing year, it seemed that more and more of her friends (and both of her sisters) were calling with news of their pregnancy, or sending out baby shower invites.  She had a growing collection of baby announcements in a neat little stack, out of eyesight.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy for them, because she was.  She knew the joy that came with seeing that precious little bundle for the first time.

But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to be sad.  She would never wish the death of a child on her worst enemy, but why did all of her friends get to have such healthy babies?  What had she done wrong to deserve what she'd gotten?  What sins had she committed that such an innocent little soul had to pay for it?

Logically, she knew it wasn't that at all.  These things just... happened

But that didn't stop her from having to overcome a bout of resentment when either of her sisters introduced her to their babies.

Now twenty-six years old, she recognized the colorful photo paper she'd received in the mail.  Another announcement.  Who was it this time?

She turned over the paper and saw a picture of a pink little baby with just a tuft of auburn hair on the top of its tiny head.

She nearly dropped the card when she read the name.

Bartholomew "Barney" Elijah Lefou Born on March 18th, 2008

Six pounds, three ounces Nineteen inches long

Madeline sat down on the couch, clutching the photo in her hands in disbelief.

How could he?  How could Lefou do this to her?  To their baby?  How could he just forget?

She did the polite thing.  She sent him a quick "congratulations" and was done with it.  Nothing personal, just enough to be considered an acknowledgement.

After that, despite the fact it wasn't even four 'o' clock in the afternoon, she curled up in her bed, nestled a certain pink baby blanket close to her face... and cried.

This one hurt the most.

Lefou had tried to call.  Numerous times, but she always declined.  She couldn't speak to him.

How could he be so ready to move on, to the point of bringing home another child like that?  Judging by the lack of another name on the card, and his general disinterest in the female form, she knew there was no way this was an accident.

He chose to have another baby.  He was turning his back on his own flesh and blood in favor of someone else's.

"Hey Maddie, it's just me again.  Listen, I know you're probably not real happy with me at the moment, but I would really love for you to meet Barney.  Any time that works for you is fine, I'm taking time off of work to take care of the baby.  I hope to get a call back."

She had replayed Lefou's voicemail message time and time again, but it took her almost a week to reply.

But finally, she did.

Which is how she found herself on the doorstep of the house Lefou was renting.  How could he afford such a nice place, while she still had to rely on her parents more often than she cared to admit?

Lefou opened the door, empty-handed.  This was almost a relief, she half expected to have to face reality as soon as the doorbell rang.

They gave their pleasantries, it had been quite some time since they'd seen each other.  He asked how her new job was going, if she was seeing anyone.  He asked if she was happy.

She answered politely, still unsure how to feel.  Should she accuse him?  Tell him that what he was doing was wrong?  He shouldn't replace their daughter like that.  It was immoral.

Before she could work up the nerve to yell at him, a small voice came crying through the baby monitor.

Lefou quipped a joke about how he had to 'take the call' before scurrying out of sight.

What she would have given to have a baby crying for her again.

She could hear Lefou croon to the baby through the monitor, offering comforting words to quiet his sobs.

His voice faded out of the monitor and into the hallway.

She braced herself.

Lefou called down the corridor, asking if she were ready to meet him.  Maybe he did care, after all.

She agreed, and Lefou turned the corner, someone small and bright-eyed nestled against his side.

Lefou introduced them.  The baby was calm on his lap as they spoke, looking at the big world around him.

She always knew Lefou was a good father.  In the few short weeks they had their baby together, he had been nothing but wonderful with her.  Late night feedings and changes, lullabies to soothe her tears.  Telling her stories while he rocked her.

Yes, fatherhood suited Lefou.

Barney began to whine a bit, and without pausing his sentence, Lefou adjusted his position so his son was resting on his shoulder, his face nuzzled into his neck.

She discovered that Barney's mother was young.  Too young to be raising children, hardly more than a child herself.  She didn't regret carrying Barney to term, but she knew she didn't have the means to take care of him.

Lefou did.

She knew the feeling all too well.  The fear that came along with being a young parent.  It wasn't so long ago, after all.

Her initial anger began to fade when she realized what Lefou had done.  In fact, she was rather proud of her friend.

Lefou assured her he wasn't trying to replace their baby.  He still slept with her teddy bear.  He had her photos in an album by his bed that he often paged through.

He mentioned how he still cried.

He showed her a little bracelet he wore around his wrist.  It was silver.  She hadn't noticed the engraving on it.

Charlotte Mae 11-2-02

He said how he planned on getting something with Bartholomew Elijah written on it to accompany it.

She realized he wasn't forgetting Charlotte.  Not at all.  He was just giving her a brother.

He offered to let her hold the baby.  She agreed.

She'd held her nieces and nephews, and her friends' babies, but this one felt different.  This one felt special.  She didn't know if it was because it was Lefou's baby, or if it was Barney's calm manner, but this time she didn't feel any sort of resentment or jealousy.

She looked into the wide eyes of this beautiful little baby and felt a smile come over her face.

She would never forget her daughter.  Neither would Lefou.

But life was allowed to go on.

Barney yawned in her arms before tucking himself comfortably against her.

This wasn't her baby, but this was Lefou's baby.

... and for the first time in over six years, she finally felt like things might just be alright.