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“What do you mean?”I sat up, gripping the edge of the bed to help me. The crackle of the paper beneath me annoyed me. I wanted to rip it off.
The nurse shook her head, her eyes not meeting mine, and before I could question her, she was out the door.
My eyes flew to Miranda’s as they filled, and she became distorted.
My baby.
“I…I—”
Miranda was at my side then, pulling me to her.
When the doctor came in, a steely look on his face, I waited until he began his search for a heartbeat. After a few minutes, I started babbling. Asking him what was happening.
He set down the instrument and stared me square in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t—don’t say it.” I shook my head and let my chin hit my chest until the tears came. And then I screamed. I ripped the paper. I hit Miranda in the chest as she held me against her.
The doctor attempted to soothe me, but I heard him utter the words “fetal demise” and I shuddered.
The only demise we were witnessing was mine.
He explained to Miranda that I’d have to head to Labor & Delivery and push the baby out. I’d have to push out my dead baby and they had no idea how long she’d been gone. They induced my labor and…
I longed for Dexter. My soul looked for his. My hands searched for his, my eyes for any sign of him. When I knew he wouldn’t be there, the emotional pain was paralyzing. And then came the physical pain.
I pushed, ignoring the pings of light behind my eyes as my body went through the hardest obstacle it’d ever faced.
Miranda wiped away my sweat and my tears as I sobbed and bore down.
“I don’t want her to be dead,” I cried out mid-push, clinging to Miranda.
When she came out, silent and still, my chest felt tight.
They cleaned her up and handed her to me and I experienced a potent cocktail of physical and emotional pain. My tears hit my lips as I spoke to her. Sweet words she couldn’t hear.
Dexter would never see it for himself, but he was in her—his features stamped on her perfect little face.
They gave me time with Anna. They took pictures. They were patient.
And then, they started discussing options.
When I handed Anna back to Miranda, I turned away from the world.
I knew there had to be a higher power. Someone was watching me. Because He saw my muddy mind, my questionable morals, the stains of my soul, and He knew better than to give me an innocent child. He knew that I’d done wrong. He knew I kept the baby from Dexter. That I hated my mother. That in the back of my mind, I hated myself.
I was waiting for a reason to live.
And He made me pay.
He took away my reason and made me keep going.
Noa
I turnedto faced Dexter as a tear slid down his cheek. I caught it with my thumb before it dropped from his chin.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?” I shook my head and pulled him to me. “It wasn’t your fault. And I’m starting to understand that it wasn’t mine, either.”
