The Beautiful Experience

"Will"

Kat.

Monday/February 12, 1990

Point Pleasant, New Jersey

The tea had gone cold. Hands cupped on the cool porcelain, I brought it to my lips for my first sip. Forgot to pour sugar. Even forgot to take out the teabag. The liquid was bitter but I went for more anyway until the cup was half empty. Then I was off in space again, right there from a seat at the lonely kitchen table.

My mother called earlier and asked to visit. I answered by asking her not to. This was easier to do alone. I liked Silent. It was good company, a new friend.

Richie was back on tour. It started October 31, 1988, a month after our wedding in Jamaica. He said it would be long but it kinda just went over my head. My ex toured a lot. I know how this works. Or so I thought. It was now February of a new decade and somehow...the tour was still going.

And Bon Jovi hardly got a break. There was no first leg, second leg; no months off in between, just blocks of days. When Richie would come home during those times, I was busy myself with work or not even home. So to see my new husband, I was flying out to meet him on the road. That's what I did for my 27th birthday; spent it in Noblesville, Indiana. There wasn't much to do after the concert besides travel with him to Nashville so...I left that trip pregnant.

Before I would find out that morning in Moscow, I was dealing with Richie's infidelity. Sadly, I wasn't surprised. Like I said, I know how this works. But he promised to ease up on the drinking. He promised to never let another woman touch him again.

It was strange, living out my life like this. I wanted him home. So many little things came and went, moments that could've been memories, especially with our son growing inside of me. But he wasn't there. And I tried not to worry so much about what my husband was doing and if my baby would be okay. Richie and I had a phone but he was exhausted every time he came on. This tour was killing them.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to visit him at this point due to my pregnancy being high risk. So hard, I tried to do everything right. I tried to be perfect, eat what I was supposed to, follow every doctor order—just hoping I truly had control on fate.

February 17, 1990. That was the last concert date and we were counting down. "I'm flying straight to you after I leave the stage." We could finally play husband and wife—and baby.

Richie and the boys came home for Thanksgiving. It was the first time he saw my baby bump. He obsessed over it. I didn't want him to leave but too soon he was back out on the road. And then came December.

During an emergency check-up, the doctor said everything looked fine but I went home and told Richie the opposite. "Something isn't right. I know it." It was the end of my second trimester and I had been spotting for three days.

It wasn't an easy call being in the middle of a world tour, but he left without word on when he'd return. He didn't care about the repercussions. "Sue me." Forgetting he was human, he left hated by many.

When he was back home, we decided to visit a doctor in New York referred by his cousin who was a surgeon in the same hospital. Initially, the new doctor said the same thing after a pelvic exam. "Everything looks good." I wasn't in labor but then they put the heart monitor on my stomach. Suddenly, I was being rushed to Labor & Delivery.

The baby's heart rate was up and down. My placenta was detaching from my uterine wall and my son was fighting for his life. Once again, my body failed to protect the child inside of me but I prayed the doctors could save him.