“Today was difficult,” Aiden said, as we entered the house.
Without looking at him, I replied, “Yes.”
“But I’m encouraged. Are you?”
“I am.”
“Enough to allow me back into our bedroom?”
I turned to face him. “No.”
“Aria, I’ve done what you’ve asked. So why—”
“Please don’t. When the time is right, we’ll both know. Don’t push me into doing something I’m not ready for. Something that quite possibly neither of us is ready for.”
Aiden didn’t respond to my plea. He shook his head and walked off in the other direction.
*****
“We’re going to take some time today to dig into a very painful area of your marriage,” Dr. France said.
It hurt to even think about it, but it was time. He was going to bring up Cadence. Aiden and I had made two steps forward, but I was afraid this would take us ten steps back.
“How have you coped with the loss of your child up to this point?” Dr. France asked.
“We haven’t talked about it,” Aiden said.
The doctor’s brow arched. “At all?”
I shook my head, looking down at my fingers twisting in my lap.
“Is there a reason?” Dr. France asked.
Neither of us provided a response.
Dr. France scribbled something on his tablet.
“I tried, but she pushed me away,” Aiden finally said.
I shook my head. “Figures you’d blame me when the loss itself is because of you.”
“So you still feel that way?” Aiden asked.
I looked at my husband. “Yes. Why would it change?”
“The loss of a child can often destroy a marriage, especially if someone blames his or her partner,” Dr. France said.
I did blame Aiden … for quite a while, and whether he said it aloud or not, he’d blamed me. I’d thought his selfish behavior was the cause. I was under so much stress that it had taken a toll on me. In turn, Aiden blamed me for trying to take on too much. So, from his perspective, I’d brought on the stress myself.
“What I’m hearing is that you blame Aiden. Is that what you intended to communicate?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
“I was trying to be the person you wanted,” Aiden said. “Maybe I did some things the wrong way, but it’s not right that you place the blame on me. You have a part in this, too. And let’s not forget you didn’t tell me you were pregnant. Again. If I’d known, things would have been different. I would have been different.”
“What do you mean by again?” Dr. France asked. “This has happened before?”
“Yes,” I said. “When I was pregnant with our first child, I didn’t tell him because I didn’t think he was …”
“Father material,” Aiden said, interrupting me. “Go ahead. Tell him.”
“I will if you sit there and shut up. Are you going to let me talk or do you want to put your spin on it?”
“See, Doc, this is what I mean,” Aiden said. “She can go on and on about what I do, or don’t do rather, but when the light is on her, she’s suddenly at a loss for words.”
“My God. Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how many excuses I’ve told myself to justify the crap you pull?”
“Aria. Aiden,” Dr. France said. “Before we go any further, stop and breathe. Think about why you’re here and decide if you can accomplish your goal if you continue in this manner.”
He must have thought we lacked any type of self-control. I took a deep breath and started to think about everything besides what the therapist had suggested. Like how pissed I was and how Aiden was still harboring resentment, even after saying he’d forgiven me for not coming forward with the news of my first pregnancy. I wanted to stand up and walk out. I wanted to handle this in my own time, in my own way, but what would that mean for Aiden and me? And what did it mean that only after a few short months of marriage we were already in counseling?
“How could I have told you?” I asked Aiden. “You’d already checked out on us because you felt pressure to be the man you thought you had to be for us. We were already on very shaky ground. If I’d added one more person to that picture, it would have made things a thousand times worse.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make,” Aiden said. “And after the last time, I would have thought you’d know better than to keep another pregnancy from me.”
“I was doing it for you.”
“Isn’t that what you said last time?” Aiden asked.
“Back then, I was trying to protect my child. You know that,” I said. “This time I was trying to protect you. To protect us.”
His dark brows lifted. “So the same thing I’ve tried to do for you. The same thing you rake me over the coals for. Do you hear how that sounds, Aria?”
“I’ll tell you what I hear … what I saw. You were selfish. Just because you couldn’t walk, that didn’t give you an excuse to step out on your commitments.”
“There’s no winning with you,” Aiden said.
“And there’s none with you,” I shot back.
“Let’s step back for a minute,” Dr. France said. “You both need to allow yourselves an opportunity to grieve, both as individuals and as a couple. As opposed to what you’ve been doing—allowing the grief to channel into something else. Something toxic that will stunt the growth of your relationship.”
I was sure he was right, but I wasn’t ready to do that. I couldn’t admit it. The blame I’d cast on myself and ultimately Aiden would only re-break what had been already broken and pieced back together. We just needed to take things one step at a time and the rest would sort itself out … right?
The remainder of the session was spent expressing our feelings about our loss. Dr. France reminded us of the importance of communication, even when we didn’t want to do it. Aiden was as torn up over the loss of the baby as I’d been. And instead of trying to go through it together, we pushed it down and cast blame.
When we were back home, I went to Lyric’s nursery. He was in the rear of the room, in his playpen, lost in the innocence of his own little world. As I turned away, Aiden stepped into view. With outstretched arms, he approached me, a look of uncertainty on his face, as if he expected me to once again shun his efforts to comfort me. But I wouldn’t. Not this time. I needed to feel his arms around me. I needed to hear him say it would all be okay.
He exhaled his relief as he pulled me into his arms, and for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, I let him. I let him surround me in his warmth, surround me in his love. I let him stroke my hair as the tears streamed down my face. I let him whisper reassurances that I appreciated, but would never buy into. Moving my arms around his waist, I held him tighter, letting him lean on what was left of me. His large frame shook as he gave in to his own sense of loss. There we stood in our son’s nursery, finally opening the part of our hearts we’d been afraid of, the part that would always belong to Cadence. We gripped each other a little tighter as we cried for the child we lost. The child we both wanted. The child we would never see.
From that day on, Aiden and I both looked forward to the therapy. We were eager to discover more about ourselves and the different methods we should utilize to solidify our relationship. It was hard for Aiden to accept some truths, and it was equally hard for me to stop trying to force my independent spirit on him. I couldn’t have it both ways—either we were the team that worked together for the betterment of our relationship or we were two individuals who would continue to bump heads and revert to square one.
*****
At the conclusion of our bi-weekly afternoon session with Dr. France, he asked how we thought we were doing. Aiden and I both responded in the affirmative. Our therapist agreed, following up with his suggestion that we move to once-a-week sessions.
“Would you like to go out for a drink to celebrate our accomplishment?” Aiden asked, as we stepped out of the office.
“I’d love to. How about the Avery at the Ritz Carlton?” I asked.
After two drinks, marginally innocent flirting and a few laughs, we stepped out into the bright afternoon, strolling hand and hand along the streets of downtown Boston.
We were standing on a corner, awaiting the signal to cross the street. Out of nowhere, Aiden asked, “When you’re alone in our bed … do you think about me?”
“No.”
A half smile creased his lips. “Not at all?”
I looked away.
His finger was at my chin, gently turning my gaze to his.
“Do you remember how it felt? When I touched you. When I kissed you?”
“If I thought about it long enough, I’m sure something would cross my mind.”
He chuckled. “Oh. Okay.”
Of course I missed him. I missed everything about him. His hand cradled my cheek and I leaned into his palm.
“I miss you, baby,” Aiden said. “Can I kiss you?”
“I didn’t think you knew how to ask permission for anything.”
“See, I can be good. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s exactly what I want … sometimes.”
“Besides, I need to add some positive descriptions to the list of Aidenisms.”
“Yeah, you could stand a few more good ones. I need to find a reason to keep you around. Although I have been considering an upgrade.”
“An upgrade from this? I’d love to see what that looks like. But you know I’m the only one for you. Right?”
“Yes,” I said. “And yes, you can kiss me.”
His lips lightly brushed over mine. It was soft and sweet. After only a few seconds, he pulled away.
We resumed our walk. “So, I was thinking,” I said.
“About what?”
“Would you have any interest in moving back into our bedroom?” I asked.
“Permanently?”
“Yes.”
Aiden had come to bed with me over the last couple of weeks, but only staying until my yawn prompted bedtime. He’d kiss my hair, my forehead or my cheek—never my lips— and then he’d said goodnight. There were a few evenings that I didn’t want to end, so I stifled yawn after yawn, just to have more time. It left me dead tired for work the next morning, but I was enjoying this time with him, so I didn’t much care about the missed hours of sleep. The most surprising aspect of it all was Aiden’s respect for my wishes. He’d given us the time we needed to step back into us.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, pulling me into a hug.
We continued our stroll, both of us lost in our thoughts. “Why so quiet?” I asked.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Something Dr. France said.”
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked.
“That some marriages couldn’t be saved because they were too far gone.”
“That was never us,” I said.
“I know.”
“So why are you thinking about that?” I asked.
“Because that can never be us.”
“It won’t,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I can’t envision a life without you. I would imagine that when anyone falls in love, they feel that way, though.”
“And then trouble comes in—testing your commitment to that love.”
“I think what people often forget is what attracted them to each other. Like with you, it’s kind of difficult because the things that drew me to you are the same things that make me want to scream.”
“I know I’m a strong wind that can blow a little too hard, but I can change, Aria.”
My brows rose.
“What?” he asked. “You don’t believe me?”
“Yes, I believe you, but …”
“But what?” he asked.
“Before I answer, I think I need a piggy-back ride. My feet are killing me.”
He shook his head. “You and those heels.” He turned around and crouched in front of me. “Hop on.”
“That’s better,” I said, wrapping my legs around him.
“As you were saying,” he prompted.
“I was saying that I’m not asking you to become someone you aren’t.” It was important that we grew together, which would involve some changes from both of us. There were things about Aiden that irritated me, but I’d never want him to be someone different just to keep me happy. “The goal is not to change you, it’s to love you and accept you for who you are … weaknesses and all. And vice versa.”
“I know that,” he said. “But there’s always room for improvement.”
“Just don’t change too much,” I said and pressed my lips to his neck. “The strong wind is what I fell in love with.”