This is something you might want to skip over, unless you're comfortable knowing details about a persons life that under normal circumstances, no one would really talk about. Now that I'm just a little over halfway into my pregnancy, I've had a lot of time to think. Every single day, since the minute I found out I was pregnant, I haven't been able to to forget certain moments of my life. For the past three years I've had the same thought going through my head -- A normal life isn't for me. It's not that I don't necessarily want one, it's more that I feel guilty about having one. My life has quite honestly been a bit of a roller coaster. Part of it my fault, and part of it circumstantial. When you're three months pregnant, and barely showing, you don't really tell anyone. The only ones to know in that situation were the father and considering how dangerous my job was at the time, my partner. I wish I could say I learn from my mistakes, but apparently that isn't quite the case. At the time I'd been working at the NYPD, and just like now, quitting wasn't something I knew how to do. If you were to ask anyone who knows me, they'd straight out tell you that's my biggest flaw. I'm too stubborn, and I'm more than willing to put myself in situations I possibly shouldn't be in. I wish I could say I left the NYPD to keep myself from acting so rashly, and out of dangerous situations, but since its obvious I don't have any children, that really isn't the case. It wasn't until after I found myself in a bad situation, gunshot and all, that I had no other option but to face all the shit I'd put myself through. In a matter of twenty-four hours I'd lost a baby, and while it wasn't until a few months later that I lost a fiancé, the minute that bullet touched me, I knew I'd lost that as well. The sad thing is, once I woke up, I didn't really care what was going on. I'd saved a life, and lost one at the same time. I'm not sure if it even makes much sense now, but I'd promised myself I'd never go through something like that again, so the minute I was out of that hospital bed I went ahead and signed a Do Not Resuscitate order. It might not make a lot of sense why I saw that as the only solution, but I know myself, and try as I may, I knew I was bound to put myself in a bad situation sooner or later. If I were to ever find myself in another one of those, I didn't want to wake up to find out about it. Truthfully, though, the only other person who had known about it was my doctor, and I'd say about 75% of the time I didn't have anything on me to make it obvious I had a DNR order.. So, basically, unless I found myself coding at a hospital where said order could be found, it was bound to get ignored.. which apparently it has, though I'm not sure whether it had more to do with said DNR not being found, or with who was there that night.. but that's another story for another day, and not one I'm about to get into. That takes me to work, though... FDNY. I'm not going to say my actions have improved since I was in the NYPD and that I'm not as reckless as I used to be, but compared to before, I'm certainly not as bad.. Shocking as it might sound to anyone working with me now.. I've been worse. The biggest difference now? I listened. Maybe not as soon as most would have hoped, but unlike usual, I listened to both my body and to just about anyone who had an opinion. While I did take it much easier once I found out I was pregnant, it clearly wasn't enough to keep me out of harms way. The only positive, short of a sprained knee, nothing else came out of that accident. Unfortunately, that wasn't the moment that made me go in the other direction until after the baby was born. Instead, it took a bad call for me to realize that as much as I try not to, I can and will break. The worst part of all, it took me losing three people to a random fire to understand that anything which could go wrong, will go wrong. I don't want to find myself in that situation again, not while I'm pregnant and have someone else to worry about. I've felt guilty for so long about what happened that one night, that I'm practically killing myself trying to make sure I do just about everything I possibly can in order to make sure everyone makes it out of a scene just fine. I've almost made it a mission of mine to keep others from having to go through the pain of losing someone. It's a bit of a selfless, yet at the same time, quite selfish act of mine. That hasn't changed now that I'm pregnant, and that's exactly what scares me.. the fact that something could go wrong again. I've already put myself and someone else through this.. I can't do the same this time around.. Not to someone who stuck around when he didn't have to -- when I gave him plenty of opportunity to move on with the rest of his life without having to worry about a baby. So, why am I saying all this now? Call it a clean break, a fresh start. I don't know, really. I don't want all this hanging over me. I'm married, I'm pregnant.. I want to be able to wake up in the morning, and say the past is behind me. I want to be able to look at my husband, and not feel guilty about moving on with my life. I've done that for so long, that I'm tired of it. I want to let myself be happy. Scary, isn't it? Samantha actually wants to be happy. ... and if you actually chose to read all that.. kudos to you. Now let's just blame it on hormones. I spent three years holding that in, it was bound to come out eventually, and all things considered.. the timing is probably the best and worst for it.