Are you not going to sleep yet? The look of concern is undeniable.
I’m not yet sleepy. You go ahead. Trying not to look you in the eye in an effort not to tear up. Again.
Come. Try to rest in our bed. You’ll feel more comfy… You offer your hand which I quietly dismissed
It’s ok. Still waiting for my phone to get fully charged. An obvious and pathetic excuse.
OK. I’ll wait for you in our room. Trying to be understanding but until when?
Truth is, I feel sleepy. I feel tired. And all I want to do is to curl up in bed and go into hibernation for the longest time possible. But I don’t want to go to bed. I don’t want to try to sleep. I don’t even want to close my eyes. Because the moment I do, the memories come flooding in. Again. Vivid as if it were just yesterday…
Listening to the deafening static sound from the fetal Doppler as the third doctor patiently scans for heartbeat . Then a series of thump thumps that would make my own heart skip a beat.
Nurse, check her pulse.
It’s just her.
The agonizing minutes in the ultrasound room while we desperately check for your movement.. or any signs of life..
Ma’m, please hold your breath for ten counts. I will scan for its heartbeat. Flat line continues.
It.. My baby has been reduced to an it..
We’ll try again, ok? Hold your breath in 3…2…1…
Baby, please.. please breath for Mama..
I would tell you that I’m better than expected. That I’m OK most times of the day. But the sleeping and the waking up is the hardest. Even though you never failed to kiss me good night, hug me close, and cheer me up in the morning.
I know that it makes you sad. It pains you that you can’t do anything to make this go away. But it’s OK. It truly is. I know that it’s something that only I can fully comprehend and go through alone.
Good morning.. The look of concern is there again.
Good morning.. I came up to you and gave you a hug.
Polly.. please be patient with me. Hugging you tighter.
I am. Always. Hugging me back.
I love you. We’ll get through this.