Goodnight Angel
It’s almost impossible to think that only 10 days ago she was alive and kicking. Literally. Like having two hearts in competition with each other; mine would beat and she would kick, harder each time my heart would answer. I believed she’d be musical like myself and my husband Jason, as she was continuously tapping her petite feet against her cosy little safety blanket , unaware of how painfully amusing it was for her “beautifully round taxi”
“I feel like an obese pack mule” I remember moaning to Jason when I walked into our baby-ready home after a long day at work. Animatedly he vaulted up to me from his “safe” place on the couch. “Considering it’s the 21st century and we don’t live in Saudi Arabia, I’d say you’re more of a beautifully round taxi” he replied mockingly, pulling me into the embrace I’d been pining for.
I am standing in her nursery, numb to my sadness – I cannot feel the tears on my checks at all. The room seems so overwhelmingly busy, with ‘Alliegh’ written in black against the pink of the walls above a huge bassinet, the purple butterflies floating from the ceiling like you’d envision in a girl’s dreams. The changing table escaping from the wall waiting with little packs of tiny nappies, and draws filled with all kinds of clothes for all kinds of different occasions.
We were so implausibly ready for her, but she…
My feet whispered across the pale carpet, trying desperately not to wake my phantom princess. I reach out and snatch the rose coloured bear invading my baby’s bassinet. Ironically it was the same size as Alliegh… hesitantly I threw it against the wall and crumbled to the floor. This time I could feel the tears rising from the place where she grew, the empty home of my still born daughter. Then into the silence rips a sound of horror. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalk board, promises being broken. It’s a note I’ve never heard, a chord of pure pain and it takes me a moment to realise that it had come from me, from my heart – breaking into a million different pieces. That no one, ever, will be able to fix.
Protectively I hurried to the corner of the nursery where I had thrown the bear. However, all that was left of it, all I could see, was a pool of rose coloured blood. The noise came again, this time making me sprint to the bathroom opposite to be physically sick. I searched inside the toilet for signs of her, but all that was left was the foul smell of emptiness and bile. I haven’t eaten in days.
Throbbing like the moment they told me of her missing heartbeat, I dug for my cell phone in the pocket of my hoodie (no longer needing to be cautious around my protruding stomach.)
Not wanting to worry Jason at work, I rang the home phone, waiting patiently for the calming voice of my husband. The first ring startled me, the phone seeming shriller than ever before. “Hey you’ve reached the Bruce’s; obviously we aren’t here right now so leave a message. Cheers” again and again I rang until finally I was composed enough to stand and walk.
Gradually I climbed down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I gulped away the taste of the insides lingering on my tongue, a baby fantail sat on the window sill, tapping with its beat on the glass. I backed away from the sink with my eyes cemented on the young bird and stared from a distance. The eyes of the bird engulfed me, deep as the sea but as lonely as my heart. Hypnotizing, the unceasing peck on the window brought me back to the hospital, when they were telling me…
Suddenly I cannot breath, the world is spinning. I will not let go, a good mother does not let go. Dropping my hard stare from the eyes of the bird and my glass on the uncaring floor, I tore up the stairs under a hurricane of explosive emotion, pausing at the door way of my baby’s nursery. The rose coloured bear was back, lying face down on the seemingly snow-like carpet. Rushing toward it in a whirl wind of motherly devotion, I plucked it off the ground and snuggled its small head against my bosom.
Sometimes when I sing I close my eyes, there is harmony in every breath I take; the drums become my pulse, the melody rushes through my veins to become a symphony of notes and rests and measures. However, this time I kept them open, singing as softly as I could to sooth her to sleep, watching in amazement as her chest rose and fell like the notes in my lullaby. Little by little the rose fur became the pearl, soft skin of my child, the tuffs on her head steadily became blonde and the open button eyes came to be the closed blue veined eyelids of Alliegh.
Melodiously I kissed my baby’s cold unforgiving forehead one last time before tucking her into her ready-made bed. Sinking slightly into the delicate mattress, the rose colour contrasted against the pure white shawl.
“Goodnight my Angel” I breathe gently to the bear. Turning, I start again to carol the lullaby of my lost baby.
I am standing in her nursery, numb to my sadness – I cannot feel the tears on my checks at all. The room seems so overwhelmingly busy, with ‘Alliegh’ written in black against the pink of the walls above a huge bassinet, the purple butterflies floating from the ceiling like you’d envision in a girl’s dreams. The changing table escaping from the wall waiting with little packs of tiny nappies, and draws filled with all kinds of clothes for all kinds of different occasions.
We were so implausibly ready for her, but she…
My feet whispered across the pale carpet, trying desperately not to wake my phantom princess. I reach out and snatch the rose coloured bear invading my baby’s bassinet. Ironically it was the same size as Alliegh… hesitantly I threw it against the wall and crumbled to the floor. This time I could feel the tears rising from the place where she grew, the empty home of my still born daughter. Then into the silence rips a sound of horror. It is like the strafe of a bullet, nails on a chalk board, promises being broken. It’s a note I’ve never heard, a chord of pure pain and it takes me a moment to realise that it had come from me, from my heart – breaking into a million different pieces. That no one, ever, will be able to fix.
Protectively I hurried to the corner of the nursery where I had thrown the bear. However, all that was left of it, all I could see, was a pool of rose coloured blood. The noise came again, this time making me sprint to the bathroom opposite to be physically sick. I searched inside the toilet for signs of her, but all that was left was the foul smell of emptiness and bile. I haven’t eaten in days.
Throbbing like the moment they told me of her missing heartbeat, I dug for my cell phone in the pocket of my hoodie (no longer needing to be cautious around my protruding stomach.)
Not wanting to worry Jason at work, I rang the home phone, waiting patiently for the calming voice of my husband. The first ring startled me, the phone seeming shriller than ever before. “Hey you’ve reached the Bruce’s; obviously we aren’t here right now so leave a message. Cheers” again and again I rang until finally I was composed enough to stand and walk.
Gradually I climbed down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I gulped away the taste of the insides lingering on my tongue, a baby fantail sat on the window sill, tapping with its beat on the glass. I backed away from the sink with my eyes cemented on the young bird and stared from a distance. The eyes of the bird engulfed me, deep as the sea but as lonely as my heart. Hypnotizing, the unceasing peck on the window brought me back to the hospital, when they were telling me…
Suddenly I cannot breath, the world is spinning. I will not let go, a good mother does not let go. Dropping my hard stare from the eyes of the bird and my glass on the uncaring floor, I tore up the stairs under a hurricane of explosive emotion, pausing at the door way of my baby’s nursery. The rose coloured bear was back, lying face down on the seemingly snow-like carpet. Rushing toward it in a whirl wind of motherly devotion, I plucked it off the ground and snuggled its small head against my bosom.
Sometimes when I sing I close my eyes, there is harmony in every breath I take; the drums become my pulse, the melody rushes through my veins to become a symphony of notes and rests and measures. However, this time I kept them open, singing as softly as I could to sooth her to sleep, watching in amazement as her chest rose and fell like the notes in my lullaby. Little by little the rose fur became the pearl, soft skin of my child, the tuffs on her head steadily became blonde and the open button eyes came to be the closed blue veined eyelids of Alliegh.
Melodiously I kissed my baby’s cold unforgiving forehead one last time before tucking her into her ready-made bed. Sinking slightly into the delicate mattress, the rose colour contrasted against the pure white shawl.
“Goodnight my Angel” I breathe gently to the bear. Turning, I start again to carol the lullaby of my lost baby.
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