Inspired by today's episode, and the sweetest scene between Ronnie and Jack lying on the hospital bed together. Comments appreciated, and Merry Christmas! x
The pain following my baby's death was unbearable. And that was just the first time. My baby, my sweet, perfect, tiny baby is gone: The single most important thing in my life, the being I was supposed to protect and I couldn't even do that right.
She would have been beautiful, my baby. Little and blonde, with bright blue eyes that could light up a room. Her hair would grow long, so long I would have to braid it each day before school to prevent her from sitting on it. She'd have plenty of boyfriends; smart, well dressed men with money that would give her an amazing life out in the big, wide world. I could see her, four years old, in her fairy outfit, pink of course, prancing around the living room waving her wand in the air. She would tap me on the shoulder and in her sing-song voice tell me to make a wish: A wish of course, that I would waste on her. As she gets older, the years fly by; we spend our Fridays together watching a film and cheesy telly with sides of her favourite, like mine, salt popcorn. There would be a knock at the door, our chips and curry sauce which we would eat before cuddling up on the sofa under the blanket. I could see her, pushing fourteen, her first crush, first kiss, first boyfriend. Her sixteenth birthday, she would come home with a tattoo- a tiny one; perhaps of a heart or a butterfly-enough for me to shout at her, enough to make me furious. After a while I would calm down and we would hug, going back to the perfect mother-daughter relationship we always had had.
My eyes closed and a tear trickled from beneath my mascara less lashes before a comforting hand brushed it away. I turned my head towards the warm comfort and snuggled deeper into the gentle embrace. A previous lover, a better friend than I had leaned on in a long while. His strong arms held me close, but not uncomfortably so, just enough for him to let me know he was there. Fingers stroked my lower back, somewhat comforting the dull ache that reminded me every minute of my loss. I needed him, I need him, I do.. But then I suppose in some way, he needed me too.
When I first awoke and swallowed, everything was such a blur, then seconds later it slammed back into my memory like a knife to the heart. Slowly I opened my eyes, but the rest of my body didn't move. It was as if moving would disturb everything, would make it all the more difficult. I was frozen into darkness, and there was this tiny light that I could just about see. Like a shard of broken mirror, it gleamed at me, and I found my rope to pull me out of my black hole. His soft blue eyes, the gaze meant just for me. The way he sat with his body inclined slightly towards mine, concerned; not pitying, but there for me. The corner of my mouth twitched, but I found myself unable to smile. He did the same, and I just looked at him, feeling the slight comfort of his hand stroking my wrist.
He climbs gently onto the bed beside me, trying to be careful and not disturb me. I feel his eyes watching me, but it doesn't scorch me, it helps me. Like having a strong, loving guardian angel to protect me through this. I rest my head against his chest and relax for a moment; for a short time, things don't seem so bad. Still I feel distressed, numb, but he is here with me and I begin to think that maybe I can get through this.
I remember his words of the night before; of love, and sadness: "I just wish.." He wished it was our baby. Mine and his, his and mine. I can honestly say that I don't, not now. It would have only meant heart ache for both of us, a heartache that I was used to, but that he didn't need. At this moment though, he said nothing and neither did I. We needed no words, it was a time of mutual comfort, and for once, I let him. I confided in him about my last baby, and so I could with this one too.
I slept a lot, losing all sense of time. The next day it was Christmas. I knew because I woke up to the smell of mince pies. My closed eyelids parted to show my dull blues but he tells me I still manage to look beautiful. Propping me up, his strong arm around me, he holds a mince pie to my lips and I purse them, turning my head away. There's no forcing me today, and I like that. A soft grin from him, and a "Well then, more for me." Makes me feel a bit better immediately. As he crunches down on the pie, I slide a hand over his belly and around his side, bringing myself closer.
I sigh without sound and close my eyes again. I had no baby, but I had my Jack, and that was one small consolation. I knew he would be here, for me and forever, if only I asked him to be.
Short and sweet! Hope I got the emotions right. x