Hello! ^^
I've decided that I might just write one-shots for a little while; at least while school is still in motion. But I'll try to write every so often. :)
This story is actually inspired by a song I heard at my church camp, and the singer was there and told us the story behind it, so I first got the idea there. I'm also dedicating this to my aunt and uncle who just had their first baby a little less than a month ago. (She's actually the cover photo; Maddison!) They lost their very first to miscarriage, so it's great to see that they're finally happy, and they were the second inspiration behind this story.
I'm also testing a new style of writing, so I'm sorry if the story doesn't flow as well. But I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it these past few days.
If you want to hear the actual song, go to YouTube and type in "Calling All Angels Jessie Clark Funk". It is a spiritual song (obviously) but it's just so sweet and beautiful.
Thank you for the continued support! I love you all and have an amazing day!
Their dream was to raise a family; not a large one, mind you, but a fairly small one. He wanted a son to attend games with, a daughter to spoil and torment any future boys that knocked on his door. She wanted a son to cradle and teach respect towards others and a daughter to follow in her footsteps and watch grow into a beautiful young lady. That's all they wanted; two small children to raise.
However, complications arose and the doctor informed that the chance of the two ever having two children would never come up and they'll be even lucky if they get one child. She cried for hours while he comforted her. Their dream was crushed in a matter of words.
Out of anger towards the doctor and a slight hope in their heart, they tried anyway and they were successful. She was happy beyond belief and bragged into her friends and her coworkers, all of which congratulated the ecstatic couple. And months drove by in a rush.
Doctors were astounded by the success, but some shared worried conversations. They seemed to know things that they didn't tell the girl. If they just told her, if they stopped her enthusiasm and ripped away her happiness, she probably wouldn't be sobbing every night, hoping something would take her life so she wouldn't have to deal with the acidic pain. If they just ended it there instead of watch her happiness slowly dwindle into insanity, she wouldn't have quit her job and hid for days in her room. If they just told her...
She couldn't feel the baby anymore. Either it had been sleeping most of the time, or she refused to think of the alternate. She didn't want to worry her husband, especially with his tight work schedule, so she pretended as if everything was okay. Pain in her abdomen arose and she took it as a contraction. She believed that the baby was coming and she was going to meet her child at last. She thought everything was okay.
As soon as her husband arrived home from work, she announced the news and he took her straight to the hospital. They were bursting with excitement, aside from the occasional white-hot pain that coursed through the woman for 60 seconds at a time.
At the hospital, the doctor met with her right away, though his face looked grim. He greeted the couple and brought them to his office to perform a few tests. The last of which was an ultrasound. Little did they know, their baby would be pronounced dead. They'd have an emergency delivery and the woman would watch as they rushed the baby out and stitched her back up. She wouldn't see her baby until she was dressed in a white, silk gown, laced with delicate flowers that reflected the suns light. A sure sign that this baby wasn't coming home.
The woman's heart broke as she saw the funeral attire on her baby girl. The man couldn't hold in his tears, and he held onto his wife's hand, whispering silent pleas to God.
"Please," he'd say, "please don't take her away. Not yet."
But his cries didn't make the big guy change his mind; in fact, it made it seem as if there was no man up in heaven, deciding upon what our lives would be. A man considered merciless would have never stolen their precious baby girl.
The funeral was long and too much for the couple. She held onto the tiny casket that bore her daughter; the girl she'd never raise. The man held his composure for as long as he could before breaking down and stepping outside. She watched her husband leave her in the quiet church as the small crowd of visitors thinned away. She knew he was broken beyond repair; he never cried. She left her daughter's side for a moment to check on him, and when she came back, the tiny box was shut and the funeral director was arranging the drive to the closest cemetery. She dropped to her knees, a dull pain reminding her that she'd never see her daughter again; this was it. She didn't call out to save her, but allowed a few of the younger men to carry out the coffin and she observed the hearse zip away.
The rest was blurred. She saw the marble stone that marked her daughter's territory, her untouched name scribed in delicate cursive that swooped across the stone. She remembered the a man droning on and on about how blessed this baby was to be born in a family that she was. But she knew that she was the reason why her baby was gone. If she had just listened to the doctors and gave up, she wouldn't be feeling immense guilt for something nature had done, and not her herself.
Days slowly marched into weeks; weeks that could have been taken up by a baby's laughter echoing through the quiet home. Her husband had started going back to work, though he remained silent in the presence of his friends. She sat on her bed, staring at the wall most days. Often she didn't care if something happened to end her life; as long as her husband was there with her. She felt like everything she loved and cherished had been whisked away in just that one ultrasound. She still had her husband, but even he was more distant than ever.
One night, he confronted her, telling her that they needed to get rid of all of their never-to-be baby's items. "We can't go living on like this," he told her. "We can keep some items, but we need to move on from this."
She hated to agree, but did anyway. He took one day off of work and started working on the baby's room. She stayed out most of the time, not being able to handle the pain of removing that from her life. Eventually, she joined in when he couldn't continue alone. They sat together on the floor, going through boxes of baby shower gifts.
"We could always donate these things," he assured her, but she shook her head.
"I can't give it all up."
"I'm not asking you to give it all up. What are you going to do with six-hundred diapers?"
She silenced herself, and continued to rummage through the boxes
"I think we should take a break," he suggested to her. He got onto his feet and offered his hand to his wife, who still sat on the floor, her hand clasped around a small teddy bear she had found in the box. "You coming?" he asked her and she shook her head.
"I need a moment," she replied. What she loved so much about him was that he knew his boundaries. If she said she wanted space, he locked himself in a room to do paperwork. If she needed a moment alone, he'd go into another room so he was close by, but at the same time, not near her. He nodded slowly and exited the room, cuing a choked sob from the child-less mother. She covered her face and lurched forward, trying to silence herself, but to no avail. Everything hurt and she just felt so empty. She had tried so hard to achieve the mother-status, and got so close to being able to bring a child into this life, but because she went against a doctor's strict order, she killed that tiny light of life. Because a moment of sheer stupidity blanketed her senses, she didn't report to her husband or a doctor that the baby had stopped moving. It was only when it was too late, did she regain her intelligence. She had killed their daughter.
Her sobs continued to grow harder as she thought of all of the mistakes she's made throughout her life; everything wrong that had been done to her. She blamed herself for everything bad, and convinced herself that the world would be better if she just left it. Her cries didn't soften until her husband came in, not able to take her pained sobs anymore, and wrapped her in his arms. He tried to comfort her, but ended up breaking down too. Together, they sat like that for nearly an hour or so; hugging and bawling.
Around five in the evening, her husband had stopped and she had been reduced to short whimpers. She held onto him like he was her final source of life; which probably was true in her circumstance. Because of the cold season, the sun was already setting outside, casting elongated shadows around the room. The only sound in the entire house was his breathing and her whimpers.
"We'll make it through," he assured her, breaking the thin silence.
"But she's gone," she spoke up softly. "And the doctor said..."
"Don't worry about what the doctor said," he interrupted and rocked her gently. "What matters is what you think."
"I can't risk losing another."
"We don't need to risk anything," he whispered, continuing his rhythmic rocking that soon soothed her soft cries.
Another few minutes of silence drifted into the room, before she looked up, her brow furrowed. She sniffled quietly, tracing each shadow with her eyes. He followed her gaze and frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Did...Did you hear that?" she asked. He worried, thinking there was a robber in the house. He tried to stand up, but she stopped him. "It's...It's her."
"Hun, please don't do this to yourself," he begged, noticing she was talking about their deceased child. Obviously she was still upset.
"I'm being serious...She's laughing." She smiled slightly. "She's calling our name. 'Mommy, Daddy!'"
He tried to listen for this mysterious voice. He had an experience like this when he was younger; shortly after his mother died. He could have sworn he heard her voice when he worked. But how could she know that it was their child's voice. They never got to hear her.
"Are you sure it's her? It could just be some kids outside..."
She nodded, still smiling.
"But how? We haven't heard her at all..."
"Mother's instinct, I guess," she assumed and looked around the room, as if searching for the little girl who laughed inside her mind. "Do..Do you think there's an after-life?" she asked and her husband shrugged.
Truthfully, he didn't believe in anything to do with religion; to do with that man who stole his daughter. He hated it more than ever, but seeing the content look on his wife's face as she day-dreamed of her lost baby, he didn't want to crush her temporary hapiness. "I do believe that there's something after life," he half-lied.
She nodded and continued to follow the imaginary angel around. Though he despised the spiritual concept, he wished he could have seen what she saw; because whatever she saw made her smile and she hadn't smiled in such a long time.
It wasn't long before she got teary-eyed again and clung onto her husband again. "I really miss her, Mal."
He tightened his embrace and rested his chin on her head. "Well...If there really is an after-life and if she really is an angel...Then our reunion isn't too far away; just a decade or so. But I guess that's what makes children so special; you have to wait until you can give them your love." He pulled back to kiss her forehead and resumed the hug. "I bet she's excited to meet us too, Nat."
Natara sniffled before choking up another sob. This one wasn't so hard and pained, but more relieved and happy. Their healing process would still go a long way, and maybe they would decide to extend their family; give their angel baby a brother or sister, whether he/she is adopted or not. But as of right now, they were finally back on the path to healing; and that's what mattered most of all.