Title: I Cannot Tell You How
Author: Gillian Leigh
Rating: G
Feedback: Always a good thing, oh and please be honest! (twistedmoonbeam8@hotmail.com)
Author's Notes: This one, I was kinda nervous about posting, b/c it's...well.... one of those that either you love it or you hate it. See, I love it, (mainly because I wrote it), but I don't want you guys to hate it. Please, R&R, but PLAY NICE! ;o)
I cannot tell you how many times, Little One, that I wanted to leave this world. I think I might have, if not for you. The same day I found out your Daddy was gone, the doctor told me that I was getting a second chance at being a mom. In that instant, I knew. I had to stay strong. I didn't have just myself to worry about any longer, I had you, and you were all I needed.
I cannot tell you how glad I was to have you, Little One. Having you growing inside of me meant that I still had a part of your Daddy to hold onto. You've given me a reason to go on each day, my Little One, and I cannot thank you enough.
I cannot tell you, little one, how many tears I shed that day. The day they lowered that box with your Daddy in it into the ground. I wanted to jump in there with him. I wanted to keep him warm. Somehow, how exactly, I'm not sure, I moved forward. I cried every time his name was mentioned, every time I walked into the office. Every time I saw something with the number 42 on it. Every time I heard another of the unkind whispers, just audible enough as I passed. I still do, my Little One. I cry for him; I cry for you; I cry for me; I cry for a world without Fox Mulder.
I cannot tell you, Little One, how you saved me. I sat on the couch in Apartment 42, my gun resting in my lap. I held the clip in my left hand, and loaded the bullets one at a time with my right. I picked up the gun, and slid the clip in. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I thought more seriously than I ever had about ending it all. I put the gun to my temple, and I had placed my finger in the trigger guard, and I had begun to apply pressure, when a sensation I had never felt before, stopped me. I snapped out of my stupor, and realizing what I had nearly done, I threw the gun across the floor, and cried, my head a mess of emotions. I felt utter fear in having almost truly done it, and the guilt in realizing what it was I was so ready to do, and the joy in what made me remember why I *couldn't* leave this cold cruel world. I had placed a hand on my stomach, which had only begun to show even under the baggiest of suits and multitudes of layers, and shuddered at the fluttering I felt under my open palm. I felt you move, Little One, and you saved my life. You saved both of our lives.
I cannot tell you, Little One, how I am feeling as I sit beside a hospital bed occupied by a familiar form. As I hold the hand of your father, feeling the life in him which I thought had been so unjustly stolen, I feel the life in me, you, which *I* had almost taken, in a manner which would have been equally unjust. There are so many things I cannot express to you, my Little One, in simple words or thoughts, for I owe so much to you, my Child. Some day, I suppose, I will discover within myself, a way to tell you these things, but for now, my Little One, I cannot tell you how much I love you.