It was about four in the morning when a sudden chill in the bed overtook me.
“Sunny?” I whispered groggily as I patted her side of the bed. “Sunny? Where are you?” I sat up and squinted in the moonlight that filtered through the bedroom window. Where is she?
It took a minute or two before I heard an odd sound coming from another part of the apartment. So I climbed out of bed, put on my robe, glasses, and slippers, and went to investigate the noise. The floor squeaked as I made my way down the hallway. When I got to the archway of the den, I realized what the sound was.
There, in the farthest corner of the room, illuminated by the night light a few feet from her was Sunny. She had her knees drawn to her chest and had her arms wrapped around her legs. Her forehead was resting on her knees as her whole body shook in rhythm with her sobs. I sat down beside her and put one arm around her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly.
“Twi?”
“What's wrong, Sunny?” I asked softly.
I saw the tears in her eyes and on her cheeks when she turned to me. “It's… this…” she placed her hand on her stomach.
“The baby? Did something happen?” I panicked.
“No. I mean… our future,” she said between sobs. “Twi, I'm… I'm scared.”
“Scared?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, I'm scared. I keep thinking… what if something goes wrong?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“Do mean the pregnancy or after the baby's born?”
“All of it,” she cried. “What if I do have a… a…” she paused and swallowed hard, “...miscarriage? How? How am I going to handle that? Or even worse… what if it's stillborn? Twi… I don't want…”
“Shhh. First of all, you're already past the point for a miscarriage-”
“But the baby can still be... be stillborn,” she interrupted.
I pulled her tight against me. “Sunny, I looked up those statistics,” I whispered softly. “The odds of a baby being stillborn is one in two hundred. That's a-”
“There's still a chance though,” she interrupted again.
“Yes there's a chance,” I said. “But that chance is less than one percent. I'm pretty sure you're safe in that department.”
She wiped her eyes once more as her sobbing continued.
“What else is bothering you?”
After a couple sniffles, she replied, “What about me? What if... something happens to me?”
“I don't understand.”
“What if there are complications? What if I… I…” she began breaking down once again.
Judging by her inability to finish her own question, I knew exactly what she was getting at. I lost track of the amount of time we sat on the floor as the sound of my wife's crying filled the room.
When she finally settled down, we resumed the conversation. “Sunny, the odds of maternal death is point-zero-three percent,” I told her.
“What if the baby is breached and they need to do a cesarean?” she whimpered.
“I don't know. That’s just something we’ll have to deal with when the time comes.”
She paused her questioning and she looked at her arms. I followed her gaze and immediately knew what was going through her mind.
“Sunny…” I whispered as I let go of her shoulder and took her hands in mine.
“What do I tell our child when they ask about my… my scars?” she asked.
I let out a loud sigh. “Tell them the truth. Let them know that you hurt yourself and that is was the wrong thing to do.” I stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Sunny, this is unfamiliar territory for both of us. Okay? I share these same fears plus others.”
“You… you do?” she asked as I began leading her back to bed.
“Yes, I do. I may not be pregnant, but I still worry. I worry that we won't be good parents and also that the baby may end up with a mental disorder,” I said.
“Mental disorder? Like autism or something?”
“Mhmm,” I replied. “Autism, bipolar disorder, or even some sort of intellectual deficiency. But regardless, if any of those come to pass, I won't love him or her any less.”
We sat in silence on the end of the bed for several minutes, holding hands. Sunny’s eyes never left the sight of our joined hands.
“There's something else bothering you, isn't there?” I asked.
She nodded her head slowly. “I wasn't sure if I should tell you this but… I've been having a recurring nightmare,” she said in a weak tone.
I suddenly felt my stomach sink. “A recurring nightmare? What's it about?”
“I… It begins with us going on a date,” she began. “We went to see a movie…” Sunny paused as I could tell she was losing her composure.
I reached up and wiped away a tear that was making its way down her cheek. “Take your time.”
She let out a few light sobs, then continued, “After the movie… we… we got into a car accident.” She released my hands and covered her face.
“Then what?”
“And then… you… you…” she began crying into her hands once again.
“Sunny, how long have you been having this nightmare?”
“S-since Christmas,” she wept. “I know… I know that I should have told you sooner but I…”
“Shhh. It'll be fine,” I reassured as a cradled her in my arms. “It’s only a dream. I'm not going anywhere. It's only your subconscious playing on your fears.”
“B-but…”
“No buts. I will always be here for you,” I said before gently kissing her lips. “And if something should happen to me, Pinkie, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity will also be here to help in whatever way they can. Remember, you are never alone.”
She sniffled as a weak smile appeared on her face. I saw her words in her eyes as I returned the gesture.
“You're welcome, Sunny,” I told her, pulling her tightly against me. “I love you.”
I felt her tears hitting my cheek as we held onto each other. After a moment or two, she finally whispered, “Thanks, babe. I love you, too.”
