Up.

Beep.

Down.

Beep.

Immobile and unconscious.

Bella lays on the bed.

Her hand is enclosed between mine as I whisper a silent prayer that she'll come back to me. I don't care that they had to shave part of her head to close the gash, or that she might not be able to communicate right away.

She's still beautiful.

I just want her to open her gorgeous eyes.

To meet our daughter.

For the doctors to say she can come home.

Instead of life support.

And that we just have to wait and see.

The guilt bears down.

Suffocating.


Tomorrow :)