Right after Jack died, I thought, we will have another baby. We were meant to have three, we were ready for three.... we will have one more. PJ and I never officially said to each other since then no, we don't really want to do that anymore but I think it's sort of unspoken that we've changed our minds. Because, foremost among a multitude of reasons, we don't want 'another' - we want Jack. We don't want three, we want our triplets.
I kept thinking that what I really wanted was to be pregnant again, I long for that time, feel such intense nostalgia for all of it, even the swollen ankles and sleepless nights. I haven't been able to go through my summer clothes because all of them from last year are maternity, and just seeing them brings me right back to being pregnant with my babies, having Jack with me all the time. I thought, I want to be pregnant like a normal person, I want one baby, a normal birth, a baby who comes home with me.... but no, really I don't. I want my triplet pregnancy again. I want to do it one more time, my pregnancy with Jack and Charlotte and Katie, except different, better.
I can't let go of the thought that I WILL get another chance, as crazy as it sounds. I can't accept that Jack is really gone. My heart says oh I know, he's gone... for now. It's not forever! It can't be, that's impossible! There will be another chance, there's always a second chance, a do over, a happy ending.
Not to make light of this but I honestly feel like part of why I can't accept the idea of forever is television. My whole life I have loved and watched too much television, taken it all to heart and cared far too much about the people on it. And on television, nothing is forever. Bobby steps out of the shower. Willow brings Buffy back from the dead (and Angel too for that matter). Dylan's dad isn't really blown up on that boat, he's in the witness protection program! Even contestants voted off reality shows are brought back, given another chance.... there's always another chance, a loophole, a way out.
I daydream about it, how it will go. It's October 12th, 2007, the day after the babies are born, and I wake up from my drug induced stupor. I scream, are the babies okay? Is Jack okay? And yes, of course, they're small but fine. Ventilator? No one's on a ventilator! Jack breathes like a champ! What a terrible, awful dream. That crazy anesthesia! I say, I should have know it was a dream when Obama became the Democratic presidential nominee! And we all laugh.
And they wheel me down to the NICU, and I hold all three of my beautiful little babies, and Jack's sweet perfect face has no tube, no nothing on it, and I hear him cry, and breathe breathe breathe. The happy music plays, and we fade to black.
Scenes from next week.... the triplets come home! Hijinks ensue!! Special guest stars George Clooney as Megan's OBGYN and Justin Timberlake as the babies male nanny, Manny.
No, not really, of course. I just want the healthy babies part. I want my Jack. I want my do over, my second chance. I want my rewrite. I want my happy ending.