We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces, while regret weighs tons. – Jim Rohn
Sam sank into her bath, her body melting under the warm passionflower-scented bubbles. Letting the tingling sensation overwhelm her, she closed her eyes. When she slowly opened them, she saw a little girl, standing at the end of the bath tub. A curious child-like smile playing on her lips, amber eyes twinkling as her small hands reached in and emerged with two hand-full's of bubbles. Sam tilted her head in wonder and gazed at the girl with happiness dancing in her eyes - as the child blew and bubbles lifted up in the air.
Sam's eyes followed the blob of bubbles gliding higher and higher until they slowly descended and landed on the floor; absorbed by air - leaving behind a wet spot.
The little girl smiled again and giggled; the innocence of a child.
The girl wasn't really there. Sam knew she wasn't there.
Her hand snaked its way out of the bubbles and blindly wrapped around her glass of white wine. Taking a sip, she let its bitter taste travel down her throat.
The hot steam had travelled onto the mirrors and she caught a blurred reflection of herself. Her hair was matted against her face. The woman in front of her didn't smile back, but rather, frowned.
A single tear left a glistering line on her face; a line of sadness and pain.
Like the lines that weren't meant to be crossed. Lines that had held her away from Jack; from love. From that someone she'd yearned for.
And finally those lines were gone; their love couldn't be judged anymore.
But they were punished.
She'd lost what they both wanted so, so much. Something so beautiful, so wonderful.
Her hands caressed her belly, and not for the first time that evening, she cried.
Sobs wretched her tormented body, her shredded soul. There was no pain in the world to describe what she felt. The ache was unbearable. It felt like someone had torn out her heart, yet left her alive.
She had lost their baby.
Anger or hatred, she didn't know how to describe the feelings that welled up from her chest. Bitter, burning, fury. She could barely breathe. It made her crying seem less sinful.
After all those years, they had punished her. Severely.
And for what?
Because she had dutifully followed orders? Kneeled in front of power mongers? Crawled for regulations?
It wasn't fair and knowing she wasn't the only one didn't help with the pain.
She had lost her baby – their baby.
Jack was in the bedroom, but she doubted he was sleeping. It had pained him as much as it pained her. But he was there for her, all the way, no matter what.
Sam knew that. He'd always be there for her.
Then why was she crying? Why did she feel like her heart was breaking?
Her soul had been stripped bare and had left her cold.
Everybody was worried about her, they wanted her to talk to them. But she didn't want to. Jack was the only one she felt like talking to. And they didn't have to talk. They understood each other without words. No words needed to express what she saw in his eyes.
The pain and sorrow of losing a child – yet again.
And she realized that the hatred she felt wasn't against the world, she was angry at her own body.
But she told everyone she was okay. That she needed time to heal; to drive away the depression.
Or was it just a fancy name for madness? That day when she found out - they had watched her dive in with a smile. They said that maybe she could take an anti-depressant; to calm herself.
She'd declined; it's just an artificial sense of peace. She didn't need all that, she had Jack. So she had smiled at all of them; a smile frozen on her lips but never reaching her eyes.
How could she be smiling? She'd lost her child. What if she couldn't conceive again? What if - everything she's been through - made it impossible to create life by her own?
But even then, Jack would be there. The genius of Jack O'Neill is a thing of empathy; love for her. And she knew, together, they would overcome this.
But sitting there, drowning in her sorrows, she found it hard to believe. Knowing it was only temporary, knowing that maybe one day – she'd be holding a child and looking into Jack's smiling eyes – she still found she was slipping into darkness.
Jack was hurting as much as she was. Can you be so selfish in only thinking of your own pain? Guess that's just a part of being human.
But Jack O'Neill had taken her heart – and changed her life forever. And she'd do it all over again. Maybe this pain, she could share. Nodding and placing her glass on the side of the tub, she took a deep breath and went under water, her hands absently caressing her belly.
The world seemed different this way; closed in and yet so far away. She felt like a ghost who had forgotten to die. Lingering between life and death, she held her breath. What would it feel like to be alone in this? Were there mothers out there doing the same thing? Hiding? Holding their breath under water? Finally finding a place where they're closed off to the world?
But she wasn't alone. Jack was her savior. Who first started out to be her hero - an admiring fascination she had for him – morphed into a wonderful love for this amazing man. His sins had been her sins. His orders; her duty, and her life had become his. Long before their joining of bodies, their joining of minds; of love – she'd had felt she wanted to share her life with his. It had been a dream, it still was, and she was living it.
Yes, she was living her dream – with him.
Love is just a chemical, no matter the origin, but we give it meaning by choice.
Pushing up, she opened her eyes, feeling the cool air of the bathroom and took a deep breath.
Jack. She loved him and that was all that mattered.
This nightmare had left her wandering confused and alone, but Jack showed her that she wasn't alone. They were together, as a family, in every essence of that word.
Closing her eyes at her own comforting words, she heard soft padded footsteps coming towards her. Recognizing them, she hazily opened her eyes.
Jack stood before her, his eyes dark and filled with tears. The shadow under his eyes showed the many hours he'd been crying. His hand reached for her and carefully helped her out of the bath, wrapping a soft towel around her naked body and held her to him.
He cried.
The sound of violent choked sobs escaping his throat filled the silence around them and it broke her heart. Sam's hand reached for his, his fingers lacing with hers; clinging. She squeezed back softly, trembling, but lending strength.
You never get over the death of a child, you just learn to live with the grief.
And as her body had long dried up, they still stood there crying, wrapped in each other's arms. Drawing strength from each other, needing the other beyond anything she thought possible.
How much can you need someone? Guess, you can never know, until you lose the wonderful being you have both created; love turned into death.
His hand was on her lower back, the warmth radiated through her soft towel and she let herself be lost in his arms. She gave herself to him and he held her, rocked them slowly, the movement almost non-existent.
The bathroom seemed to disappear, as she closed her eyes and let go of everything - her fears, her nightmares, and her pain.
His hold tightened, as if he wanted to crawl into her, and his head snuggled against the nape of her neck, hiding and seeking comfort, like he had done many times before.
Her arms went around him and she felt the soft release of his breath; relief.
She was lost, but her pain was met by love. His strong arms were supporting her, and if they hadn't, she was sure she'd have been on the ground. His strength gave her hope, gave her everything she needed to heal.
No pills could give her what Jack gave to her.
Love.
Angels were crying for the both of them, but she knew - as Jack leaned back and met her gaze - he'd be the one to heal her.
She closed her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the feelings she saw reflected in his eyes, but she needed to see his love.
Holding her gaze, he softly kissed her lips, "I love you, Sam."
Sam's fingers fussed his tear stained cheeks, her lips kissing the tears away, until the comfort of her lips had found his.
"Sam, I-,"
Her lips lightly touched his again. "Love you, too… so much… I-". but raw emotion choked the rest.
Lips met in the sweetest kiss. Breathing deep, Sam drank him, let his comfort take her in and the worries of her heart be swept away. There will always be a yesterday, but even more of tomorrows.
They leaned back, only to let their foreheads touch as Sam looked up into his gaze. Unable to tear her eyes away from his, she drowned in his amber ones. The feelings inside her were overwhelming, but she welcomed them, and for the first time, she smiled.
And she let go.
The End. Thank you for reading.
To take your mother-loss of a first child
So inconsolably – in the face of love.
Robert Frost "Home Burial"