Rose Lilliana Shaw (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosetattoo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2015-07-28 06:59 pm
rosetattoo) wrote in muserevival2015-07-28 06:59 pm
097.3. Private Diary
Keep Holding On
I've always been a pretty simple person. I'm a fan of honesty and loyalty, not money and materialism. I value love and family, not flash and hype. There was no one more shocked than me when a beautiful, yet very popular, musician wanted to sweep me off my feet just because I accidentally over-fangirled him one day. It's an hilarious story these days, no doubt. He was the best and most amazing thing that ever happened to me. He wasn't just talented, but he was a beautiful soul, with a beautiful smile and a huge heart. Those were all the things I cherished, and those were the things that prevented me from not falling in love with him.
That he didn't need me to change to fit into his celebrity whirlwind lifestyle. He wanted me exactly as I came, and because of that, fuck did we have a lot of fun together. We laughed, we did silly and spontaneous things, we tripped around to all the best theme parks in the country just because. When he spoiled me, he spoiled me with things he knew I loved. Pretty flowers, not an over-abundance of them. Jewellery that suited me, not that had the biggest diamonds to brag about. Plain old Hershey Kisses because they're my favourites, not express delivered gold-crusted chocolate directly from Belgium.
He did things with me like mess around in giant ball pits, or have water bomb wars in the hot weather. He collected seashells one weekend we stayed at the beach and handmade a bracelet for me like you would when you were kids. I still have it. I love to wear it. I wanted Daisy to have it when she's older and it fits her. That's not to say it was all about me. It never was. Once we started to date more seriously, I began to learn what his world was like, and I learned all the little things he adored and appreciated to. He rolled with the punches on the ride of fame, and there was crazy shit like TV interviews, paparazzi, PR intervention, autograph signings/selfie-fests, bodyguards, screaming fans, flashy and high-paced concerts, charity events, stretch limos... the list went on.
Though, it didn't take me long to know all that for him was like a thin veil he shrouded himself in when he needed to. He played the game, and he played it well. But when he came home at night, he was just a simple and content person. He loved his family hard, and his twin harder. He liked to veg out on the sofa and channel surf on his days off. When he sat in music studio to write or record, he did it in well-worn sweats, a baseball cap, and a bare feet. He would wake up and make me a boring old breakfast of bacon and eggs, but put a little heart and smiley face in ketchup on the side of the plate. The first time he did this, he stole a little daisy from the bunch of fresh flowers he had gotten me and garnished my plate with it. Daisies were my favourite flower.
There was also this very tough struggle he had that only those closest to him knew. He suffers from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and despite jumping online to read about this when he first told me, no words on paper really gives you an understanding of what it's like to live a high-paced and crazy life of a successful musician with this short circuit inside you that makes you crash and burn on a regular basis. He could barely function and just sleep for days, and it was important to me to help him when that happened. It just became a part of things, and he would always thank me, and promise me he would do that same for me when I wasn't feeling well.
That was never in question. It was never a promise he needed to make me, because I just knew. And then when we found out I was pregnant, I didn't need to wonder if he would be an amazing father, I just knew that too. The news was a shock indeed. We fucked up and we owned it. Just because you get pregnant through a fuck up, it doesn't mean your baby is unwanted. Once the shock wore off, we were over the moon. I still remember the smile on Angel's face when the penny dropped he was going to be a daddy, and then soon learned we were having a baby girl. Probably the best thing he ever did in the back of a champagne-soaked limo... and I'm sure he's done many a thing in the back of those during his rapidly climbing muso days.
Daisy was very overdue, and Angel would joke to me that she had the best mommy in the world so she didn't want to relinquish that umbilical chord connection to me. As overly pregnant and moody as I was in those days, more than ready for it to be over, he could still make me laugh. When Daisy decided she was ready to come, however, she was coming ASAP. Which is exactly what happened. So quickly that the paramedics didn't even have a chance to get there and Angel had to follow directions over the speaker on his cell phone to deliver Daisy himself. Not exactly the most idealistic of situations, and just as terrifying as it sounds, but when I saw her in his arms for the first time, I knew my life was the most complete it could ever be. It was right. Nothing could best that moment.
Our little girl might've been a huge surprise, but she was also a beautiful little thing and made me realise that being a mommy was a part of me I could tap into and do really well. Not the only part of my life, but one that seemed to come so easily. Watching Angel with her became my favourite pasttime. Then, his chill out days on the sofa channel surfing were with his baby daughter nursed on his chest. His days in the studio writing music were with her nursed in his arms or beside him in her basket. She grew up with music all around her, and now that little girl could sleep through a rock concert and then some. He would sing to her and play to her. He penned a whole album for her and his feelings of becoming daddy, and he's poised to start recording it soon.
It's funny, I guess there was always this part inside me that assumed one day we would give Daisy a little brother or sister. Expand our crazy little family even more. There was no doubt we made gorgeous babies after all, right? (I know every parent in the world thinks that, though). After Beau went into remission again and he and Austin decided they wanted a baby of their own, it wasn't even much of a thought process for me and Angel to help give his twin and his husband all the amazing experiences we had having a baby ourselves. It all seemed to make sense.
Until it just wasn't. The pregnancy with Daisy hadn't been a walk in the park, but you get through it and you know it will all be worth it in the end. Morning sickness was crazy, though I was a good partner in crime with Beau when he was sick from the early days of his chemo. What a miserable sight we were many a day back then. It was exhausting too. Nothing at all glamorous about pregnancy, and if people say there is, they're lying. But I knew what I would be in for offering to be a surrogate for Beau and Austin. So I thought. I thought it would be the same sort of thing, and in nine months, they would have this amazing gift that they deserved after all the pain and suffering, and nearly losing Beau more than once when his body tried to shut down on him.
Maybe there was a little niggle in the back of my mind that the IVF process went too well. It took the first time, and I found out we were pregnant. But trust me, that hyperemisis isn't just isolated to royalty. I feel as sorry as fuck for Kate Middleton because I learned first-hand what that horrible thing was like. I was so tired too. Some days, I couldn't get out of bed, so I was gifted with a whole new appreciation for what Angel goes through. Of course, he spent the whole time wishing it on himself so I didn't have to go through it. He made good on his promise to take care of me over and over, unconditionally, and with all the skill of a wonderful nurse/daddy/husband-to-be.
Then the miscarriage. It was awful. So much pain, so much bleeding. It felt like I was a failure, like I couldn't manage to be the surrogate they needed to be. I destroyed their chance of being parents. It was a dark time, and most days recently, I've been still working through it. We had been planning our wedding before Daisy was born, and shooting for it to happen once she was, but Beau's cancer news had come. It wasn't the right time. Wedding planning just wasn't me. I would've been happy with anything, and simple. With family and friends, and our little girl.
When I miscarried, all I wanted was Angel and Daisy near me. I wanted to hold onto them because life started to feel so precarious. Through Beau's fight with cancer, I knew I needed to stay strong so Beau and Austin could break. I had to be there to help them and take care of them, Angel and me had to fight when they felt like they couldn't keep going. That was what felt right. Taking care of my family, making sure they were loved, and knew they weren't alone. So when the pain and heartache of losing Beau and Austin's baby hit, all I wanted was to finally marry Angel. I felt like we earned the right after all the pain. I wanted something to prove to me I wouldn't lose him, and I needed him. Forever.
It was beautiful. So simple at Jane's Carousel with a gorgeous purple dress Austin designed for me and surprised me with. I didn't need the big white wedding. I never did. I needed the people I loved around me at that time more than anything, and with our little girl there. Finally, we got married and having Angel as my husband felt the most right thing to settle into place in my life. I was going to get through the miscarriage. It would take time, but I could get there. It was impossible to shake the niggle of fear eating away inside me that I didn't want to risk another pregnancy again, and didn't get to the point of being able to confess to Beau and Austin I couldn't try again for them.
Now this. The problems didn't settle, and the post-miscarriage check-up was brought forward. There are lesions, small tumours, on my ovaries. Could be cancer. Caused the miscarriage. Won't know until surgery. Invasive, life-changing surgery. I wouldn't be able to conceive again. Best chance was a total surgery, everything gone it took to carry a baby. Hysterectomy at 25 years old. All this spinning around and around in my head, and all I can think is, "Yes - take the whole fucking lot if it means I get to stay living!"
I don't want to put my family through this pain. I don't want to do this piecemeal, maybe, we'll see what happens bullshit. All that does it increase the worry that the steps might not work. I want to see my baby girl grow up, I want to grow old with my beautiful husband. I don't want them to be in pain. Take it all, I don't care. They could take my arms and legs too if it meant the best outcome. I need to just keep going. I need to give up the little hope at the back of my heart that one day we would make more beautiful babies. It wasn't important in the grander scheme of things, right? It was taking life for granted, and no one is guaranteed anything.
The most beautiful things life can give you, I already have. My daughter, my husband, my family. My husband's awed smile when he looks at our little girl and can't believe he helped create her. He's succeeded in having multiple platinum albums, a world tour, ridiculous amounts of fans... but Daisy is the best things he's ever done by a long shot. The brighter, mischievous smile he gets when he looks at me and makes me feel like a princess. My little girl's giggles and her tiny hand wrapped around my finger while I feed her.
Some people will never be this blessed. Some people will be this blessed and be too self-entitled to see it or cherish it. Some people will spend their whole lives wishing and hoping to feel these things and never have someone to share it with.
I'm one of the lucky ones. And I'm determined to be okay. For them. For them, I have to be.
~ Rose Shaw, Original Character
I've always been a pretty simple person. I'm a fan of honesty and loyalty, not money and materialism. I value love and family, not flash and hype. There was no one more shocked than me when a beautiful, yet very popular, musician wanted to sweep me off my feet just because I accidentally over-fangirled him one day. It's an hilarious story these days, no doubt. He was the best and most amazing thing that ever happened to me. He wasn't just talented, but he was a beautiful soul, with a beautiful smile and a huge heart. Those were all the things I cherished, and those were the things that prevented me from not falling in love with him.
That he didn't need me to change to fit into his celebrity whirlwind lifestyle. He wanted me exactly as I came, and because of that, fuck did we have a lot of fun together. We laughed, we did silly and spontaneous things, we tripped around to all the best theme parks in the country just because. When he spoiled me, he spoiled me with things he knew I loved. Pretty flowers, not an over-abundance of them. Jewellery that suited me, not that had the biggest diamonds to brag about. Plain old Hershey Kisses because they're my favourites, not express delivered gold-crusted chocolate directly from Belgium.
He did things with me like mess around in giant ball pits, or have water bomb wars in the hot weather. He collected seashells one weekend we stayed at the beach and handmade a bracelet for me like you would when you were kids. I still have it. I love to wear it. I wanted Daisy to have it when she's older and it fits her. That's not to say it was all about me. It never was. Once we started to date more seriously, I began to learn what his world was like, and I learned all the little things he adored and appreciated to. He rolled with the punches on the ride of fame, and there was crazy shit like TV interviews, paparazzi, PR intervention, autograph signings/selfie-fests, bodyguards, screaming fans, flashy and high-paced concerts, charity events, stretch limos... the list went on.
Though, it didn't take me long to know all that for him was like a thin veil he shrouded himself in when he needed to. He played the game, and he played it well. But when he came home at night, he was just a simple and content person. He loved his family hard, and his twin harder. He liked to veg out on the sofa and channel surf on his days off. When he sat in music studio to write or record, he did it in well-worn sweats, a baseball cap, and a bare feet. He would wake up and make me a boring old breakfast of bacon and eggs, but put a little heart and smiley face in ketchup on the side of the plate. The first time he did this, he stole a little daisy from the bunch of fresh flowers he had gotten me and garnished my plate with it. Daisies were my favourite flower.
There was also this very tough struggle he had that only those closest to him knew. He suffers from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and despite jumping online to read about this when he first told me, no words on paper really gives you an understanding of what it's like to live a high-paced and crazy life of a successful musician with this short circuit inside you that makes you crash and burn on a regular basis. He could barely function and just sleep for days, and it was important to me to help him when that happened. It just became a part of things, and he would always thank me, and promise me he would do that same for me when I wasn't feeling well.
That was never in question. It was never a promise he needed to make me, because I just knew. And then when we found out I was pregnant, I didn't need to wonder if he would be an amazing father, I just knew that too. The news was a shock indeed. We fucked up and we owned it. Just because you get pregnant through a fuck up, it doesn't mean your baby is unwanted. Once the shock wore off, we were over the moon. I still remember the smile on Angel's face when the penny dropped he was going to be a daddy, and then soon learned we were having a baby girl. Probably the best thing he ever did in the back of a champagne-soaked limo... and I'm sure he's done many a thing in the back of those during his rapidly climbing muso days.
Daisy was very overdue, and Angel would joke to me that she had the best mommy in the world so she didn't want to relinquish that umbilical chord connection to me. As overly pregnant and moody as I was in those days, more than ready for it to be over, he could still make me laugh. When Daisy decided she was ready to come, however, she was coming ASAP. Which is exactly what happened. So quickly that the paramedics didn't even have a chance to get there and Angel had to follow directions over the speaker on his cell phone to deliver Daisy himself. Not exactly the most idealistic of situations, and just as terrifying as it sounds, but when I saw her in his arms for the first time, I knew my life was the most complete it could ever be. It was right. Nothing could best that moment.
Our little girl might've been a huge surprise, but she was also a beautiful little thing and made me realise that being a mommy was a part of me I could tap into and do really well. Not the only part of my life, but one that seemed to come so easily. Watching Angel with her became my favourite pasttime. Then, his chill out days on the sofa channel surfing were with his baby daughter nursed on his chest. His days in the studio writing music were with her nursed in his arms or beside him in her basket. She grew up with music all around her, and now that little girl could sleep through a rock concert and then some. He would sing to her and play to her. He penned a whole album for her and his feelings of becoming daddy, and he's poised to start recording it soon.
It's funny, I guess there was always this part inside me that assumed one day we would give Daisy a little brother or sister. Expand our crazy little family even more. There was no doubt we made gorgeous babies after all, right? (I know every parent in the world thinks that, though). After Beau went into remission again and he and Austin decided they wanted a baby of their own, it wasn't even much of a thought process for me and Angel to help give his twin and his husband all the amazing experiences we had having a baby ourselves. It all seemed to make sense.
Until it just wasn't. The pregnancy with Daisy hadn't been a walk in the park, but you get through it and you know it will all be worth it in the end. Morning sickness was crazy, though I was a good partner in crime with Beau when he was sick from the early days of his chemo. What a miserable sight we were many a day back then. It was exhausting too. Nothing at all glamorous about pregnancy, and if people say there is, they're lying. But I knew what I would be in for offering to be a surrogate for Beau and Austin. So I thought. I thought it would be the same sort of thing, and in nine months, they would have this amazing gift that they deserved after all the pain and suffering, and nearly losing Beau more than once when his body tried to shut down on him.
Maybe there was a little niggle in the back of my mind that the IVF process went too well. It took the first time, and I found out we were pregnant. But trust me, that hyperemisis isn't just isolated to royalty. I feel as sorry as fuck for Kate Middleton because I learned first-hand what that horrible thing was like. I was so tired too. Some days, I couldn't get out of bed, so I was gifted with a whole new appreciation for what Angel goes through. Of course, he spent the whole time wishing it on himself so I didn't have to go through it. He made good on his promise to take care of me over and over, unconditionally, and with all the skill of a wonderful nurse/daddy/husband-to-be.
Then the miscarriage. It was awful. So much pain, so much bleeding. It felt like I was a failure, like I couldn't manage to be the surrogate they needed to be. I destroyed their chance of being parents. It was a dark time, and most days recently, I've been still working through it. We had been planning our wedding before Daisy was born, and shooting for it to happen once she was, but Beau's cancer news had come. It wasn't the right time. Wedding planning just wasn't me. I would've been happy with anything, and simple. With family and friends, and our little girl.
When I miscarried, all I wanted was Angel and Daisy near me. I wanted to hold onto them because life started to feel so precarious. Through Beau's fight with cancer, I knew I needed to stay strong so Beau and Austin could break. I had to be there to help them and take care of them, Angel and me had to fight when they felt like they couldn't keep going. That was what felt right. Taking care of my family, making sure they were loved, and knew they weren't alone. So when the pain and heartache of losing Beau and Austin's baby hit, all I wanted was to finally marry Angel. I felt like we earned the right after all the pain. I wanted something to prove to me I wouldn't lose him, and I needed him. Forever.
It was beautiful. So simple at Jane's Carousel with a gorgeous purple dress Austin designed for me and surprised me with. I didn't need the big white wedding. I never did. I needed the people I loved around me at that time more than anything, and with our little girl there. Finally, we got married and having Angel as my husband felt the most right thing to settle into place in my life. I was going to get through the miscarriage. It would take time, but I could get there. It was impossible to shake the niggle of fear eating away inside me that I didn't want to risk another pregnancy again, and didn't get to the point of being able to confess to Beau and Austin I couldn't try again for them.
Now this. The problems didn't settle, and the post-miscarriage check-up was brought forward. There are lesions, small tumours, on my ovaries. Could be cancer. Caused the miscarriage. Won't know until surgery. Invasive, life-changing surgery. I wouldn't be able to conceive again. Best chance was a total surgery, everything gone it took to carry a baby. Hysterectomy at 25 years old. All this spinning around and around in my head, and all I can think is, "Yes - take the whole fucking lot if it means I get to stay living!"
I don't want to put my family through this pain. I don't want to do this piecemeal, maybe, we'll see what happens bullshit. All that does it increase the worry that the steps might not work. I want to see my baby girl grow up, I want to grow old with my beautiful husband. I don't want them to be in pain. Take it all, I don't care. They could take my arms and legs too if it meant the best outcome. I need to just keep going. I need to give up the little hope at the back of my heart that one day we would make more beautiful babies. It wasn't important in the grander scheme of things, right? It was taking life for granted, and no one is guaranteed anything.
The most beautiful things life can give you, I already have. My daughter, my husband, my family. My husband's awed smile when he looks at our little girl and can't believe he helped create her. He's succeeded in having multiple platinum albums, a world tour, ridiculous amounts of fans... but Daisy is the best things he's ever done by a long shot. The brighter, mischievous smile he gets when he looks at me and makes me feel like a princess. My little girl's giggles and her tiny hand wrapped around my finger while I feed her.
Some people will never be this blessed. Some people will be this blessed and be too self-entitled to see it or cherish it. Some people will spend their whole lives wishing and hoping to feel these things and never have someone to share it with.
I'm one of the lucky ones. And I'm determined to be okay. For them. For them, I have to be.
~ Rose Shaw, Original Character