winced at the cramps the nurse’s massaging caused, as well as the knowledge that she had become a pariah through no fault of her own. While they meant well, none of the staff seemed to know what to do with her. They chose to work on the maternity floor because they loved the joy that every day brought with new moms and new life. She was the anvil on their stethoscopes that brought them back to earth, back to the reality that things didn’t always go the way they were supposed to; there wasn’t always a happy ending. It hurt to be the source of such abhorrence. Instinctively, she knew she better get used to it.
She breathed her way through the discomfort, using the technique the labor nurse had shown her. Dillon came before they had finished the childbirth classes, so she had no idea what to do. They had procrastinated about practicing all of those “dumb breathing exercises” as Eric had dubbed them. They seemed dumb to her too, until she was in the throes of labor and then she more than understood their value. The thought of all the other couples in their class having healthy babies was a slap in the face she hadn’t expected, and she winced. The tears started again.
Eric stirred restlessly. He rolled over and squinted at the light sneaking in from around the edge of the door. The nurse had left it open a crack in her haste to leave.
“What’s going on?” he asked in a half whisper. He put his forearm over his eyes to block out the light as well as the reality that came flooding back.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “The nurse just came in for a minute.” She decided to spare him the details. She wanted him to rest. “Go back to sleep, okay?”
“I don’t think I can,” he said, sitting up and stretching tiredly. Standing up, he came over to the bed. “How did you sleep?”
He leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek and tasted the tear that was making its way to her chin. He put his arms around her and held her close. “Aw, Annie.” It was all he said. It was all he had to say. The tears came more freely now, for both of them. They sat there for a few minutes, just holding each other. It was the closest they’d been in days and she needed the comfort. This was new terrain, a new journey for which she wasn’t prepared.
Out in the hall were the sounds of the hospital waking up for the day. Tall metal carts with stacks of breakfast trays were rolled down the hall by food service workers. Plastic bassinets with newborn babies followed them, pushed by busy nurses. After all, the babies needed their breakfasts too and each room held a mom or two waiting to feed their new little bundles of hungry joy. Except Annie’s room, of course. Her room was quiet and still. The days of eating for two were over.
“Knock, knock,” a friendly voice said. It belonged to a young woman they’d never seen before. She had light brown hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing black pants and a white blouse. Around her neck was a thin gold chain with a small gold cross dangling from it. “Hi, Annie, Eric, I’m Susan Phelps, one of the hospital chaplains. Dr. Hayes told me about your son. I’m so sorry.” She stood near the end of the bed, not too close, but not too far away, either. “Can I get you two some breakfast?”
Annie shook her head. “None for me, but Eric would probably like some.”
“You have to eat too,” he chimed in. “You have to keep up your strength.”
“I’m not very hungry, but you know what I would like,” she said, her eyes lighting up a little. “Coffee – with caffeine!” She’d been so careful to avoid caffeine or anything harmful throughout the pregnancy. It was time for some “forbidden fruit.” If she’d been offered a Bloody Mary she would’ve taken that as well – maybe even two of them.
The young chaplain smiled as she slipped out into the hallway to grab Eric a breakfast tray. She not only brought Annie a cup of coffee, but an entire pot.
“Here you go,” she said as she poured the hot, steaming liquid into a Styrofoam cup, “coffee with caffeine!” She handed the cup to Annie carefully. “Be careful – it’s really hot.”
Annie wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the warmth, the aroma and the young woman’s kindness. Eric brought his tray of food over to the chair by the window and sat down to eat. He lifted the round, plastic cover from the plate, to expose a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and whole wheat toast. The chaplain continued to visit with them while Eric devoured his breakfast and Annie sipped and savored her coffee.
“It’s normal to feel sad and hopeless,” she started, “but time heals all things. Someday, years from now, you might be feeling sad and not know why. Then you’ll remember that it’s this day and what happened….”
She continued to talk, but Annie stopped listening. The chaplain was very nice and meant well, but didn’t know what she was talking about. Be feeling sad and not know why? And then remember what happened?!
There was no doubt in Annie’s mind that she would never forget the day Dillon was born. It would never creep up on her, no matter how many years had passed. Every day would bring thoughts of him, if only for a second. Of course there would be the “milestone” events – the birthdays each year, each Christmas, what would have been his first day of kindergarten, and his last day of high school, but she knew there would be more. Every time she’d see another child, she’d remember what she was missing. She’d think of him when the first snowflakes would drift gently down from the sky and collect in a pile in the yard or when after a sun shower a rainbow would stretch from here to forever. She would have run to get him from his crib or his toys to show him how wonderful it was. When a spider would magically appear from nowhere, lowering itself through the air on a silken thread, she would have shown him how to look for its beautiful, intricate web. “A tiny, little spider made that, Dillon, all by himself!” She could imagine him clapping his chubby little hands together and squealing with delight. The thought brought a small smile to her lips.
“Annie.” Eric’s voice brought her back to reality. Both he and the chaplain were looking at her expectantly and she wondered how long she’d been off in her own little world.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“That’s to be expected, Annie,” said the chaplain. “Grief can be exhausting.”
Really, she wanted to say. She felt the urge to scream again, but only nodded her head in agreement. She hoped the visit was almost over and looked to Eric for help. Maybe he could read her eyes and do something to make it end. He was distracted by now as well, his hand on his shirt pocket, feeling for his smokes.
“Well, you two must be tired, so I’ll be going now.” With that, the young woman with the ponytail walked to the door. She turned toward them before she walked out into the hallway. “I really am so very sorry.”
Annie looked after her, not sure what to think of this angel of mercy who brought them food and drink and the most misguided advice she could imagine. She meant well, she told herself. Little did she know that these words would become her new words to live by. They would bring her little comfort, but they’d help her hold onto her sanity, one well-meaning person at a time.
She pushed open the back door and stepped slowly into the kitchen. Everything was exactly as it had been when they left to go to the clinic the day before. The dishes she had eaten her lunch on had been washed and set in the dish drainer in the stainless steel sink.
“I didn’t remember you doing the dishes yesterday,” she said to Eric as he followed her in.
“Oh
