I ***ed up Again

I was lying down in my hospital bed with Peyton's incubator right next to my bed when a nurse walked in.

"Miss Locklear...the baby's father would really like to see her and legally, we can't deny him that. I can take her out to him if you don't want to see him?" She proposed nervously. I was on so many drugs that I didn't even care that much anymore.

"No, don't take her away. Let him come in." I spoke softly, so I didn't upset the baby who was squirming at the sound of my voice.

The nurse nodded and stepped out of the room gingerly.

"Ready to meet your daddy, sweetheart?" I whispered.

A few moments later the door opened slowly and in stepped a nervous, lanky man.

His hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot. He rubbed his jaw as he walked over to the plastic box our daughter was in.

"Hey baby girl..." He cooed as he leaned over the incubator and pressed his palm against the plastic.

I just glared up at him as he stared down at her.

"Her name is Peyton." I informed him, rudely.

"I thought we were going to name her Dana?" He asked.

"Well I thought she was going to be born in December! I thought her lungs were going to be functioning! I thought you were going to make up with your brother!" I exclaimed.

"Shh, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm so unbelievably sorry, Palmer. I love you so much. I never meant to hurt you or Peyton." He apologized sincerely. "I love you."

"I want you to move out." I stated, ignoring his apology.

"Palmer! You can't be serious?" He cried.

"I'm so serious. If I don't get to take her home, then I just want to be alone." I argued, looking over at her again.

John sighed and sat on my bed next to me.

"She's going to be okay. I promise." He whispered, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles.

"No she's not." I told him, my voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

"Shh, it's going to be okay sweetheart." He said, trying to comfort me. I only let one tear fall down my cheek. I wouldn't lose it.

"It's not. And don't you dare call me that! She might not make it, John. I knew I was getting too worked up. I knew this would happen. Everything is my fault." I cried out.

"Palmer Anne Locklear, none of this is your fucking fault and don't you even start thinking that. The minute you start blaming yourself, you are going down a slippery slope that you won't come back from. Shit happens, baby. Let's get through it." He stated forcefully as he made me look him in the eye.

"No. No, I can't look at you. Just go." I ordered in a shaky voice.

"Palmer..." He trailed off in a warning tone.

I just shook my head and avoided eye contact with him. Why couldn't he see that he was just making everything harder. If Peyton didn't make it, there's no way we would last. We still might not last. I was upset with him, but mostly with myself. I couldn't even hold my own baby.

I knew what John said was right. If I blamed myself for this, I'd fall into a deep depression, but what he didn't know is that I was already halfway there.

------

I was only allowed to stay in the hospital for three days before I was discharged. Peyton was making little progress, so they had to keep her. I was allowed to visit her whenever I wanted, but I still couldn't hold her.

I called my sister for a ride home from the hospital, since I wasn't speaking to John. After a silent and awkward car ride, I arrived at my empty house.

A lot of John's stuff was still there, but he was long gone. I could tell that he, or probably his mom had cleaned everything and the refrigerator was freshly stocked with food, but I had no appetite.

My daily routine became sleeping, waking up, seeing Peyton, going home, sleeping.

I was on maternity leave from work and I stopped going to classes which I knew would bite me in the ass, but I didn't care. I was a failure in something I was biologically made to do. It was my purpose in life to be a mom, and I couldn't fulfill it.

I stopped eating, which made me drop my baby weight fast. I slept fourteen hours a day, but I always looked tired. I didn't wear any makeup anymore. I was a mess.

I never bumped into John at the hospital, but the nurses said he was there often. He usually left before I showed up, or so I was told.

He and his friends already showered her in toys and balloons, even though she was far too young to appreciate any of it.

She wasn't getting better. They tried to sugar coat it, but I knew what they meant. She was going to die. She couldn't stay on a breathing machine her whole life. She was already three weeks old. They said she might be better at this point but she didn't make any progress.

John tried to call me everyday. He wrote me lots of letters that I never looked at. I couldn't bring myself to.

I wondered why this was happening. They say everything happens for a reason, but what was the reason for hurting an innocent baby. To teach me a lesson? It sure did. I wished it was me. I'd already made enough mistakes for three lifetimes, but she was a fresh soul, a clean slate. She was perfect.

I gazed down at her as she slept and thought about what it would have been like if she would have been okay. Would she be enjoying her first Christmas in a few days? Would she look adorable all dressed up in the baby clothes I bought? Would she laugh when I kissed her belly after changing her diaper?

I tortured myself with those thoughts for awhile, until I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey." He choked out. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

I mumbled a greeting and kept watching the baby.

"I was running late today, but I had to see her. Do you want me to leave?" He asked quietly.

"You can stay." I replied monotonously.

He walked over to the other side of the contraption and glanced from her to me.

"She's not going to make it, John." I whispered as my eyes filled with tears, looking down at those big green eyes.

"Palmer-"

"She's not getting better and I deserve it."

"Damn it Palmer don't talk like that!" He screamed, triggering Peyton to cry. I was taken aback, never having heard him yell at me like that.

"It's true." I choked out, as a lump formed in my throat.

"No." He sniffled, looking down at her while one of his tears fell onto the plastic. "She's gonna make it. I know she will."

The sight before me caused me to burst out in tears. I hadn't cried about it yet. This was the first time.

John walked over and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my hair.

"We're gonna make it through this. She's going to be okay."