A Pocketful of Starlight

She hesitated in the doorway with the sleeping baby cradled in her arms, her eyes drifting over the room illuminated only by the soft peachy glow of the nightlight. Emma was sound asleep in her twin bed against the far wall, but John stood on the other side of the room in the alcove near Jake’s crib, staring out at the city sky.

The view from that spot looked out over the garden of the basement apartment in the neighboring building. The tenants were two kind gentlemen in their mid-fifties, life partners and both musicians in a small local orchestra. On warm evenings they’d sometimes sit out amongst the flowering plants and stone statues crowding their small courtyard space and practice.

It became Sarah’s favorite spot to breastfeed, figuring she had the added benefit of exposing baby ears to classical music per the recommendations of books on child development she’d devoured while pregnant. John even went out and got her a comfy glider rocker to make the experience complete.

He was resting one hand on the back of that chair now, and just from his slouched stance she could see he was completely lost to his thoughts, not even aware she was in the doorway behind him. For a moment, watching him like that, she actually felt like she was intruding on her own husband.

It was one of those things that they don’t tell you about marriage. How this union--this joining of names and assets and hearts and bodies--does not necessarily join you so completely that you never feel alone or disconnected. You still remain separate individuals with separate thoughts, feelings and needs. And it’s still possible, even in marriage, to feel isolated, lonely or unsure at times. Even to feel scared.

She remembered she found him here like this once before.

Sarah discovered she was pregnant for the second time on Emma’s second birthday. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect--especially since this had been a planned pregnancy, where Emma was not. Sarah felt so much more ready and prepared this time around. She didn’t need that adjustment period after the shock of finding out, knew what to expect and had the added excitement of knowing she would be providing her daughter with a sibling.

It was one of the only times in her life she allowed herself to feel only pure hope and joy, without any doubts or reservations to cloud her happiness. And it was probably the last time she ever made that mistake.

It was a Tuesday morning. She remembered this because Tuesdays were the designated trash collection day in their neighborhood, so she’d always delay her morning run with Emma in the stroller until the sidewalks were cleared. They were painting a picture together instead, and when she went into the bathroom Sarah was momentarily confused, wondering how she managed to get a splotch of red paint on her drawstring pajama bottoms. Then she realized it wasn’t paint.

It was only some very light spotting here and there, and so she tried not to get too worried or upset, even going back to carefully consult with her books to reassure herself it was a common occurrence in some pregnancies. But she immediately called her doctor regardless, still trying not to overreact when he suggested that she come into his office at the hospital. “Just to be safe,” he said.

She called Helena, their babysitter, to come over and watch Emma and then she called John. He immediately came home from the restaurant to drive her, even though she told him she could just grab a taxicab like she did for her other obstetrician visits.

She remembered she had started bleeding a little more by that time. As John wound their SUV through the city streets, his hand gripped onto the wheel as he expertly maneuvered them through traffic, she sat in silence, her own trembling hand clutched into a useless fist at her side as she felt the tiny, but utterly devastating cramps begin.

Gazing bleakly out the window as the city sped by, all she could think was how much different it was than the last time they’d made that same ride, when she was in the early stages of labor with Emma. That day, John was trying to keep her mind off it all with his nervous talking and bumbling jokes while she grasped onto the hand he offered for dear life, measuring her breath in short puffs, muscles constricting with near excruciating waves of pain as her heart clenched in fearful joy and exhilaration .

John beat his old record this time, getting her there in just under twenty minutes. But she’d already lost their baby.

They scheduled her for a procedure, and everyone--nurses, doctors, anesthetists--seemed so irritatingly eager and overanxious in their attempts to convince her that next time she would most likely go on to have a perfectly healthy and normal pregnancy that Sarah finally lashed out in all her sorrow, despair and bitterness.

She asked them to please stop, because she had no plans to ever get pregnant again. They were lucky enough to have Emma, for which they should just be grateful, and that would be it. It was too hard, too heartbreaking. She couldn’t see herself going through it again.

John only sat stoically next to her, continuing to hold her hand, and told her that was okay. Whatever she wanted would be okay. And that he loved her.

She woke a few nights later, plagued by some disturbing dreams in middle of the night, and instinctively turned to snuggle against his warm and comforting solid body, only to discover he wasn’t in bed next to her. She found him here, sitting in the chair instead of standing, with Emma sleeping soundly and the crib empty. Except that time his head was bowed in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent tears.

Sarah turned around and went back to bed that night without saying a word, and five months later she was pregnant with Jake. She didn’t know if she got pregnant for John--to give him another baby, even though she wasn’t so sure she could handle that kind of heartbreak again. She just knew she loved him enough that she would have, if he’d asked. And she wondered if he knew that.

Taking a tentative step forward, she cleared her throat to murmur some soft words to Jake, bowing her head over the sleeping baby in her arms but making sure she was just loud enough to be heard from across the room. John glanced back over his shoulder to meet her eyes with a small, almost wistful smile in the faint glow of the nightlight.

Returning the smile, she moved to the crib to carefully ease the baby out of her arms and onto the mattress, pulling the powder blue fleece blanket up to his tummy. Turning without a word, she slid easily into John’s arms for a hug, resting her cheek against his broad chest as he held her close and rocked her gently back and forth, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

And this was marriage, too. For every moment you find yourself feeling alone, another one can suddenly come along and you know without a doubt that you have this one person to rely upon for your support and strength, this unconditional love in the family you made together rather than were born into. Those are the moments you have to hang onto, not only to cherish but also to protect. Save them up for when you need them most, because you never know.

Life gives, and life takes away. All you can really hold onto are the people in it.