I had a little writing break over Christmas, I wanted to spend some quality time with my family whilst I could. Hope you are all staying safe and that 2021 brings you all the happiness and joy that 2020 never did! I'm hoping to be able to post a bit more regularly for the next few weeks, let me know what you think (everyone that actually leaves a review, I love you!) and enjoy!
He'd had dreams about it in the days after. Nightmares really; Izzie sleeping peacefully next to him one second, only to become a woman he no longer recognised the next. Curled in a hospital chair, thin and grey skinned, tears carving her beautiful features into something else. His lungs drowning in the lemon-scent of disinfectant as he walked through water to get to her, not daring to look down. Then she lay on the mortuary slab, lemon-scent replaced now with the nothingness of death. Her left hand resting across the back of the tiny baby girl curled against Izzie's chest. Pink skin in contrast to her grey, doctors unable to pry her away from her mother, no matter how much Tom screamed for it.
He often woke to the beeps and flashes of life support machines much too large for the life they were supporting. Soaked in sweat, turning to find that Izzie was no longer laying beside him. She'd gone to find their daughter in the night. Sometimes he'd find her there, hand pressed against the smooth plastic box keeping their baby alive. She'd turn to him and smile before it all went black. Sometimes he wasn't so lucky; sometimes she'd already be gone, having removed the wires and tubes and wrapped the baby in blankets. Fleeing with their daughter to the safety of home before he caught up with her and she turned screaming hateful words that weren't really hers.
In reality, most mornings Tom awoke to find Izzie pressed against him in the small hospital bed. Her hair splayed out on the pillow behind her, cheeks stained from another night of crying. He wanted to pull her close to him, impossibly close. He wanted to kiss her head, to whisper in her ear that he loved her. Remind her that he was here, that everything would be okay. But he just breathed under her, treasuring the near perfect moments, sleep keeping Izzie safe from the demons of the day, before she wakes up and remembers, and the tears start to fall once again.
Two weeks passed and the hum of the machines became part of their daily life. They grew used to the short drive from home to hospital, and back again. They spent their time watching Ayah's tiny chest rise and fall at the whim of a machine. Sitting side by side, heads dipped in prayer to a God that neither of them believed in. Tom snuck glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He still looked at her like she was magic and it made her heart ache. She knew she had been pushing him away, the distance already growing between them. She no longer rolled over and clung to him in the night, instead choosing to tip-toe down the hall and crawl into Mika's bed. Crying into her teenage daughter's pillow because the thought of telling him how scared she was overwhelmed her. He wasn't Jimmy, she'd said as much herself. She knew deep down that he wouldn't leave, that he loved her wholly, but there was only so much silence a man could take before it became deafening. They each wondered how long they would have to wait to hear that their baby girl could come home. Tom was sure that it would end Izzie's silence. That Ayah could fill the cracks that were inching open in the new space between her parents.
Three weeks before her original due date was the day they got the call. Tom and Izzie walked into the NICU hand in hand, both needing to lean on the other. Tom took his chance to tell her he loved her, and she smiled a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She leaned into him, as he wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her smell. The nurse gestured to a single chair beside Ayah's incubator, indicating that Izzie sit. Tom took her hand, and she let him, squeezing it as much to reassure himself as her. She began to unbutton her shirt, before adjusting the bra beneath. Tom beamed, squeezing her exposed shoulder. The nurse opened the side of the incubator, allowing Izzie to take Ayah carefully from it. She untangled tubes as Izzie settled the tiny baby on her chest. Tom's breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled backwards slightly. Another nurse pushed a chair behind him and he sank down beside Izzie. Reaching out a hand, he tentatively stroked along his daughters back, feeling her small breath against his finger. Tears pooled in Izzie's eyes as she looked at Tom, then down to their tiny miracle baby resting on her chest.