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Author: This book is a continuation of my documentary released in 1997 and details the lives of Billy Dunne and Daisy Jones in the aftermath of the interviews I conducted with them. How this is set up is very different from the documentary interviews. This time I asked everyone different questions about different situations. This time, I never asked two people the same question.
Daisy: Welcome back everyone, I’m Daisy Jones.
A lot has happened since the documentary came out, and this book is going to explain it all.
I never thought I’d do this again because the last time was nerve wracking for me to say the least.
Sitting across from Julia Dunne recounting the entire history of me and the Six was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
Not because I had to talk about how much I loved her father and the craziness that went on back then, but because I knew the secret I’d carried since 1977 was on the verge of being exposed.
You see, it took a lot of time for me to build up the courage to go to the facility that Teddy, Rod, and I had picked out. It was off the grid, tight security, no one would know I was there unless I wanted them to. I finally checked in weeks after Chicago.
I got the fucking shock of my life when I got there.
I was sitting there waiting for the results of the standard blood test when the doctor finally came in.
“Miss Jones, is there any chance you could be pregnant?” He asked me and my heart began racing.
I couldn’t do anything but nod a little as he sat down on the stool before me. “There was one time.” I admitted while trying to hide the tears shining in my eyes.
He nodded a bit. “Congratulations, Miss Jones.” He told me, confirming my pregnancy.
It was like the entire world had shifted for me. It wasn’t just me anymore. I was growing a little human inside of me and I couldn’t be reckless anymore.
The doctor did an exam and said I was about 7 weeks along, which terrified me. I’d consumed so much alcohol and cocaine in those weeks. That time period also pretty much confirmed what I’d already known; the baby was Billy’s.
When she interviewed me, I’d lied to Julia when I told her that Billy and I had only kissed. There was one and only one drunken, drug-fueled night that we spent together in Chicago that resulted in my pregnancy.
The only thing I knew to do was call Simone. I sat on the phone with her for an hour, sobbing as she talked me through my options. Looking around at the facility I was in, it did cross my mind to have an abortion.
I’m so glad that I didn’t.
I will forever be grateful to Simone for urging me to leave the band and go to rehab. If I hadn’t, neither me nor my daughters would be here today. It was so hard but I was determined to get clean for my baby.
After three months I was finally sober and on the road to making amends. In rehab I’d written a letter to the person I’d wronged: Camila.
In my letter I told her the truth about everything. I felt like I owed it to her. I let her know that Billy and I had kissed a few times, and that after the Chicago show was the only time we’d done more. I told her that he wasn’t sober when we’d slept together and that he ran off to catch her immediately after.
I had debated on whether or not to tell her about the baby, and ultimately I did. Just not in the letter. I put my phone number at the bottom and asked her to call me when she was alone.
Camila was the only person from that part of my life except Karen that I ever told about the father of my child.
She was very gracious and kind to me despite the fact that I was having her husband’s baby. I apologized endlessly, cried, and begged her for forgiveness. Camila gave it to me though I didn’t deserve it at all.
I asked her not to tell Billy. He was finally home and with his family. I couldn’t ruin that. Not again.
She wanted me to tell him but reluctantly promised to keep my secret, and I promised that I would never interfere with her family again.
That angel of a woman told me that I was her family, or I had been at one point.
I broke down into tears as I apologized again and hung up the phone.
And that was that.
My pregnancy was fairly easy despite having a few coke cravings here and there. My doctor kept a close eye on the baby because of my history with drugs. I had appointments every two weeks.
Simone helped me out immensely. She and I painted the nursery together. I didn’t know if the baby was a boy or a girl, so we painted it a pretty pale yellow.
My entire pregnancy I thought I was having a boy, although Simone was insistent that I was going to have a girl. Of course, she was right.
We had been having a girls night, but in the early morning of July 8th, 1978, I started getting awful cramps. I’d had a few here and there but none that were that painful.
I was lying in the recliner when my water broke at 4 AM, scaring the shit out of both me and Simone. That woman immediately went into action. She was gathering my hospital bag, the baby’s bag, calling the doctor, while I was sitting there scared out of my mind.
That’s when it truly hit me. I was about to be a mother. I was going to have a helpless little baby that relied on me for absolutely everything. And I was going to be doing it without the father of my child.
Simone got me to the hospital right as my contractions started to time at 8 minutes apart. I barely remember getting checked in or taken to a room. All I remember was holding my best friend’s hand and hoping my baby would be alright.
I did refuse the epidural and the other meds they offered me, not wanting to even chance a relapse. I felt every single thing from beginning to end.
I was in labor for about 7 hours before I started pushing. It took about 20 minutes before I finally heard the cry of my newborn baby. I couldn’t help but cry myself, so enchanted by the sound.
“Congratulations, Miss Jones. It’s a girl.” The doctor placed the baby on my chest and gave me a smile.