Chapter 1

1 – Amber
It was more anxiety and irritation than pain that clouded my expression for many reasons.  I was anxious because I was minutes away from giving birth to my own child.  No one knows what sex the baby is, doctors don’t have that kind of equipment, but the kind brunette doctor said that by judging how pretty the parents are my baby is going to come out beautiful.  Irritation struck from waiting on this tiny room cramped with different nurses taking down different notes of my steady progress.  The blonde nurses often tended to swiftly glare at me in the corners of their eyes every five minutes which ticked me off slightly, teen pregnancy wasn’t rare anywhere.  
These stupid, stiff hospital mattresses didn’t help at all – if anything they caused more irritation to my already upset mood.  How they expect anyone to have as little pain as possible while delivering on this kind of bed is beyond me.
“Ouch!” I gasped, grabbing at the metal bars on each side of the narrow bed.  There was a sharp pain below my bulging stomach, like someone just hit me with a hammer, and it made me squeeze my eyes shut in anguish, my jaw clenched together so hard I thought my teeth would fall out if I relaxed.  I felt the heavy drops of sweat racing down the side of my face, tracing the creases made by my curled back lips.  There were small, quick footsteps, the click of the door closing and Oliver’s voice next to me in the next second.
“Alison?” his soothing voice called my name.  I tried to answer but my jaw wouldn’t rest until the pain did so I let out a groan that lasted longer than I intended.
“Hold on honey, the nurse went to get the doctor.” He reassured me.
Oliver Darling is my seventeen-year-old husband; we got married in Canada where under-aged couples are allowed.  His beautiful face could have belonged to a movie actor with his pale, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of the neck and breath-taking, jade eyes.  He was also strong and muscular and sweet.  It always surprise’s me to wake up to his angelic features and know that he’s mine.
Moments later I heard multiple footsteps enter the already tight room.  There was a hum of voices and the rustling of papers and more footsteps.  The pain didn’t cease as it had before and I knew it was time.  The doctor’s quick, instructing voices were around my small bed, but I was able to point out the one I desperately needed to hear right now.
“Can you hear me Al?” Oliver’s asked over all the other commotion.
I painfully forced my eyes open into slits – just enough to see his face – and a slight smile to pull up one corner of my mouth.  His blurred expression looked pained and it hurt me too.  It took more strength to nod my head once, and then I let my face resume its previous mask of agony.
There was another second of bustling and quick footsteps until I unconsciously let out an ear-splitting cry of pure torment this unfamiliar pain caused.  I felt an intolerable pushing feeling in the center of my hips and my hands tightened their grip on the side bars.  In the next moment warm, powdered hands were bending my legs into an arch and strapping leathery belts to my ankles, preparing me.  Someone else’s hand was on my forehead.
“Sweetie, on the count of three I’m going to need you to push as hard as you can, alright?” the sweet, brunette doctor’s voice instructed.  I quickly nodded my head and realized I was crying as many hot tears went streaming down my cheeks.  The nice doctor counted to three and I obediently pushed my brains out.  The following excruciating pain was far worse than anything I’ve ever experienced in my years of foolishness, it felt like something were ripping itself out of me which was exactly what was happening.  Again she counted down to three and I pushed harder than the first time.
I pushed four more times - each harder than the one before – until there were cheers going around the room, “the heads out!”  The nice doctor was beside me the whole time, encouraging me and counting.  I gave three more pushes until the smell of blood wafted through the entire room and I understood in my dazed state that my baby came out.  As weak as I was I released the metal bars and opened my arms, palm side up, waiting for the doctors or nurses to gently hand me my child.  I never got it.  
Someone grabbed one of my free hands and gently squeezed it.  I slowly turned my head to my right and saw Oliver looking straight forward at something, his whole body was tense.  I turned my head again to my left to find my nice doctor wasn’t there anymore; some movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye.  My head jerked slightly so I could see a group of all the doctors and nurses at the foot of my bed gathered around something.  I focused my vision in on what was in the middle of the group; it took me a moment to point out what was what.  There was a smaller version of my bed in the center and a small pale blob on it, after a while I noticed the blob was my baby.  The doctors had a pump in its mouth and were pushing air into it; I quickly turned back to Oliver, his stance never shifted.  I was too weak to stay awake so I let unconsciousness take over as the doctors continued to pump air into my child and move around and as Oliver held my hand.
~ ~ ~
I awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep to darkness except for a small, dim light in the lower left corner of the tiny room.  There was a pretty, raven-haired lady next to the light with a board and a pen in her hand that never stopped scribbling on invisible paper.  I tried to pull my head up but there was a sharp stabbing feeling were my muscles strained to lift the weight and I dropped back onto the firm mattress.  The lady – most likely one of the nurses – put her supplies down and rushed over to me with the candle in her hands.  She stopped on my left side and asked me simple about how I feel right now, someone on the opposite side stopped her.
“I don’t think she’s ready for questioning miss, maybe later when she’s better.” A sweet, sad familiar voice told the nurse.  
“Yes sir.” I watched her walk to the table she sat at and exit through the one door in this undersized room.  My head turned the other way to see Oliver standing at my side; the dim candlelight was enough for me to see the pink tint and slight circles surrounding his irises.  His face was depressing and tired.
“What happened to you?” was all I could think of asking at this point.  I saw the corner of his lips pull up into a small smile then drop again.
“I must look worse than I feel.” He muttered to himself.  I looked at him with curious eyes.
“What happened? How do you feel?” I questioned him.  His quick eyes flashed to mine then away, he sat on a wooden stool and buried his face in his hands.  I slowly sat up, groaning at the stabbing pain, and massaged his back.
“It’s the baby.” He said in a barely audible, muffled voice.
“What about the baby?” My mind was still slow in comprehending.  He took his face out of his hands, exhaled loudly and that was when I realized he was crying.
“Uh, she didn’t make it.” I was still a little bewildered.
“What.  Happened?” I demanded.  His short answers were starting to irritate me.
“She had trouble breathing; the doctors didn’t have enough things to help her so…They are really sorry they didn’t have the equipment to save her.” He sobbed; his voice broke a few times in explaining.  This new information bemused me until I remembered my baby on the small bed and the doctors pushing air into her tiny lungs.  My breath caught in my throat and I started to choke which brought on a new wave of pain, Oliver stood up and his gentle hands were patting my back until I settled.  I threw my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his broad chest and let the tears and sobs seep through.
Only when Oliver lifted me out of the bed and set me comfortably in his lap did I realize how strong he was.  My cries continued for a good five minutes until I heard the door open and someone walked in quietly.  I kept my face in Oliver’s chest when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.
“Alison, dear, I guess you’ve heard the news then.  I’m so sorry…we tried all we could we just…didn’t have the money for the right equipment.” I recognized the brunette doctor’s voice and felt Oliver’s arms tighten around me.  My cries didn’t cease as I turned to look her in the eyes.
“I-I have the money…you could have…used it…to save my d-daughter.” I stuttered.  
That was true; I come from a wealthy family.  My father, Anthony Pierce, is a traveling surgeon and very famous among today’s people as a merciful savior.  I had inherited half of his fortune at my birth and had been his most precious treasure.  That was until I met Oliver and fell madly in love with him, not even my father could stop me from doing what I’ve done nor my loving mother.  Georgiana Pierce loved me with all of her soul and was horribly broken in my rebelling; at least it wasn’t enough for her to result to suicide as most parents like her would have done.  I inherited her looks; dark-caramel colored hair, perfectly arched eyebrows, light brown eyes, rounded face, reasonable sized breasts, pale skin and slim features.  Thinking of my parents always hits a soft spot in my heart and fills me with excruciating longing to be with them once again as the best thing that’s ever happened to them.  I frequently avoid memories like that so I don’t end up leaving Oliver to go back to my parents; I’ve always been a daddy’s little girl.
I forced myself back to the present.
“I’m terribly sorry, but that wouldn’t help.  The equipment isn’t with us we have to order it and have it shipped here and it’s a long process, I don’t think your baby would have…lasted.” She hesitated on that last word and I see why; as soon as the word slipped out I cringed into Oliver’s chest again and stayed there.
“My baby.” was all I mumbled to myself between sobs; Oliver probably heard me because he started rubbing his smooth hand against my arm and I felt his lips on the crown of my head.
“I’m so sorry dear.” were the last words that came out of the doctor’s mouth before she left the room again.
Oliver and I sat on the small wooden stool for what felt like hours crying on each other.  My tears stopped and I took deep breathes to calm my breathing, and then I looked up at Oliver.
“What did Amber look like?” I asked, smiling a little to show him my curiosity.  He wiped his swelled eyes with the back of his hand and pulled his eyebrows together.
“What are you saying now, love?” He asked weakly.
“Our baby, what did she look like?” I clarified.
“Oh.” He thought for a minute, “Well… she had really short curls, a lighter color than your hair.  I wish I could she her eyes-”
“They’d probably be your pretty eyes.” I interrupted, he smiled half-heartedly.
“She was paler than you I must say even when she was briefly crying.  Her birthday was August 17, 1943 here in California and she also had the love of two parents who miss her and love her very much.” he added.  I felt like crying again but I sucked it up and held it back.  I wasn’t about to become a parent that goes around grieving over something lost and never coming back, it was a waste of time and pointless.  
“Yes we do.” I said.  We sat in silence again for a few minutes.
“So,” Oliver broke the silence this time, “you’ve decided to name her Amber.”
“Yes, is that okay?” I asked cautiously.  He chuckled at my question and kissed my forehead.
“Of course, you gave birth to her not me.” He gave out long sigh.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“This is my entire fault.” He clarified.  I stared at him bemused, my eyebrows pulling together.
“Nothing is your fault honey.”
“No…It is my fault.  If I hadn’t got you pregnant so young we would probably be older and still have our daughter.  If we waited and got married and had children at a legal age then maybe things would be better.  If I can control myself better we wouldn’t be here.” Oliver explained.  His thoughts confused me even more and knocked the wind out of me.  I steadied my breathing a jumped off of his lap and slid between his knees and my bed to the opposite side of it.

“Look, nothing is your fault.” I persisted, “So what if you hadn’t…impregnated me so young, what if we waited till we were of legal age, what if you had self control we wouldn’t have made this mistake-”
“Exactly!” he cut in, I held up my index finger to silence him.
“If we didn’t make this mistake do you think we would have learned anything?  You learn from mistakes, not grieve over them and start blaming yourself for making it.  This right now was a mistake and we learned from it, we’re married; we have enough time to have another baby when we feel it’s time.  We can teach our children not to make these mistakes sweetie.  It’s not the end of the world, we still have time-”
“No we don’t.” I heard him mumble to himself.
“What?” I almost screeched.  He wasn’t making any sense right now.
“Never mind.” He mumbled again, barely audible, he buried his face in his hands again.  My face was hot with anger and frustration, I shuffled into my stiff bed and under the thin sheets my back turned to him.
I cannot believe what I just heard slipping out of Oliver’s mouth.  How can he blame himself like that over Amber, he is so much smarter than that.  And what did mean that we don’t have time, we’re married, and we have all the time in the world to waste making babies and doing tons of crazy things.  I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salty liquid on my lips.  Giving birth was the worst pain in the world and took all the energy out of me, even now I felt weak and this fight with Oliver stole the last of my power from me.  I dozed off with the silent tears trickling down my cheeks.