Disclaimer: I do not own the song Lullaby, or Nickelback. Those amazing objects/people are owned by people much more famous than I am.
Lullaby - Nickelback
I know the feeling of finding yourself stuck out on the ledge
And there ain't no healing from cutting yourself with a jagged edge
I'm telling you that, it's never that bad, and take it from someone who's been where you're at
You're laid out on the floor and you're not sure you can't take this anymore
So just give it one more try to a lullaby and turn this up on the radio
If you can hear me now I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone
And if you can't tell I'm scared as hell 'cause I can't get you on the telephone
So just close your eyes, well honey here comes a lullaby
Your very own lullaby
Please let me take you out of the darkness and into the light
'Cause I have faith in you that you're gonna make it through another night
Stop thinking about the easy way out, there's no need to go and blow the candle out
Because you're not done, you're far too young and the best is yet to come
So just give it one more try with a lullaby and turn this up on the radio
If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone
And if you can't tell I'm scared as hell 'cause I can't get you on the telephone
So just close your eyes, well honey here comes a lullaby
Your very own lullaby
Well everybody's hit the bottom and everybody's been forgotten
Well everybody's tired of being alone, and everbody's been abandoned
And left a little empty handed, so if you're out there barely hanging' on
Just give it one more try with a lullaby and turn this up on the radio
If you can hear me now, I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone
And if you can't tell I'm scared as hell 'cause I can't get you on the telephone
So just close your eyes, well honey here comes a lullaby
Your very own lullaby
Well honey here comes a lullaby
Your very own lullaby
Esperanza Rising
The first thing I noticed when I finally stopped shaking was the smell. Crisp and burning, the scent of disinfectant brought me back to the present. It almost seemed like a dream. How could this have happened? It seemed like it had happened hours ago, but one glance at the clock hanging on the blank hospital wall told me the truth. It had only been half an hour and my entire world had been turned on its head. I could still remember the last moments that I saw you.
It was all bright lights and shouting nurses. One of my hands gripped yours as you panted and groaned on the gurney speeding its way towards the open surgery doors. Above your head, I could see the television blaring on about the election of the first black president, Barack Obama. Your white knuckled grip tightening brought my attention snapping back to you. It felt odd to me. It was the most important moment of my life, yet I kept getting distracted by trivial things. Your other hand massaged your swollen belly as you looked up at me, desperately seeking assurances that I was quick to offer.
"It'll be fine, Mari," I crooned to you. "We've been waiting for this a long time, and I can't wait to see our new son or daughter. I'll be right by your side, and you can squeeze my hand as much as you want." I grinned. It was a running joke between us. For putting you in this state, I had promised you that you would be able to squeeze my hand as hard as you wanted while you were having the baby.
The blue uniformed nurse caught me at the door as I tried to charge through in order to follow the gurney. She thrust a pair of blue scrubs and a hair net at me, quickly explaining that I was not allowed inside unless I put them on. I shrugged into the scrubs and hurried through the doorway to your side, once again reclaiming your hand. I guess you could tell that I was here, because you rolled your eyes towards me, too tired to turn your head. I smiled down at you. It was hard to be the strong husband you needed me to be; you looked as if you were dying and I was still worried, even though we were at the best hospital in Seattle.
The tall, blond doctor came in, taking one look at you and rapidly barking out orders as he instructed you to push. Your grip tightened again as you swore and cursed my name, promising that you would never let me touch you again. I grinned, quietly amused. I knew that would not happen; you loved me too much. But the smile was quickly wiped off of my face as you strained again, and finally the sharp cry of a newborn baby was released into the air.
The nurse quickly raised her up, and you looked at her once, smiling, before your eyes turned towards mine. You seemed to make a huge effort to turn your head, and I was getting worried. You looked at me once, eyes bright, before they rolled up behind your head, and the heart monitor flat lined.
This could not be happening. I fought against the nurse who was pushing me towards the door as the doctor called for the crash cart. But the woman was stronger than I realized. She shoved me towards a chair with a stern look.
"There's nothing you can do here," she said. "Sit quietly and let the doctor do his job. We'll do all we can to save your wife, I promise." Then she turned and hurried back to the surgery room, which now seemed the eye of the maelstrom of hospital orderlies and shouting nurses.
There was nothing left for me to do, and I rested my head in my hands, and waited for the storm to come.
"Mr. Kroeger, Mr. Chad Kroeger," a voice called me back to the present. The doctor back. The look on his face was not one that I wanted to see. He looked sad and compassionate. "I'm so sorry. We did the best we could, but she was bleeding internally, and we couldn't get there in time. I'm so sorry." And my world crashed around me.
What am I supposed to do without you Mari? You were the one that helped me become the person I am today. You looked at a juvenile criminal whose only passion was the guitar and singing in a band and turned him into a rock sensation. You introduced me to your brother, Mike, who helped me start my own record company; helped me get rid of my past, throwing my old name and all the pain it carried behind me. And now you are not there anymore, Mari. What am I supposed to do now?
The minutes ticked by. Then the same nurse from before came up to me with a bundle in her arms. She nudged me gently before placing our baby, your baby, into my arms. As I looked at him, I could not help a surge of anger. This was the being that took you away from me, Mari. How was I supposed to take care of this thing?
But then the baby's eyes fluttered open, and your eyes looked back at me. Your cornflower blue eyes. And I knew that I could never to anything to hurt this baby. Never. She is the only thing left of you Mari. The only thing I have left. I have to take care of the last piece of you, Mari. It is the least I can do now. You were the one so excited for this baby, always bubbly about what we would name her, and what her room would look like. It seems unfair that I, who was far more reserved about the idea, am here now, holding this baby, than you, who should be here.
I grabbed the baby pram, settling the little girl in there and began to wheel it out of the hospital. As I left, a brochure caught my eye. ADOPTION, it proclaimed in bold letters. Without knowing why, I grabbed it and thrust it into my back pocket as I left. Would you be mad at me, Mari, for wanting a way out of this mess since I don't have you anymore? Would you hate me for wanting to be up there with you?
Two days later, and I am staring at a picture of you as the baby sleeps in the pram in front of me. Do you remember this picture Mari? It was the one that I snapped the day you told me you were pregnant; you were beaming, almost glowing with pride and happiness. I look at your picture, then at the brochure sitting on the table. What would you do, Mari?
Two months later, and the baby is driving me insane. With the stress of the economy, the record company's deals are shrinking, yet the baby is taking up more and more of my time. It wakes me up at 2:00 in the morning, shrieking its head off. The four hours later, I wake up to the tunes of Matchbox 20 and Dashboard Confessional as the alarm goes off. I am getting less than five hours of sleep every night. I cannot do this anymore, Mari. I am going insane!
I think you sent me a message today Mari. I was putting the baby down to take a nap, though it was still crying, when my phone fell out of my pocket. And there you were. It was a video that you had recorded two months ago, with you sitting in your favorite rocking chair and rubbing your belly. You were speaking to your bump, telling it about all the wonderful things you were going to together once it came out into the world. And you know what Mari? The minute you started speaking in the video, the baby quieted. As I lifted the video up, the baby followed it with its eyes, with your eyes. And I could not help but smile. Is this your message to me, Mari?
Two days later, Mari. I'm sitting propped up against the wall, with our baby in my arms. And I have made my decision. I will not let this baby go. I named her today Mari. I named her Esperanza. Hope. Hope for the future that I will create for her. Hope for the future that I will have with her. Hope that maybe one day, we will meet again, and you can be proud of my actions. So I promised her today, Mari. I promised Esperanza.
"I will never let you go. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy, Esperanza. My hope. I promise."
And I intend to keep that promise. I hope you do not mind, Mari, but you are going to have to wait for a while for me to join you. Esperanza needs me, and I will not break the promise I made. I threw away that brochure, Mari. I will not do it. I do not really know why I even picked it up in the first place. Did you know what I would do Mari? Is that why you looked at me that last time I saw you?
But I promise you Mari, our daughter will be one that you would have been proud to have. And that is a promise I intend to keep.