A young woman, pregnant with her first child, faces a heartbreak she never expected.
The pain, the pressure, the unbearable suffering. I screamed, clutching at the blankets covering me. I felt the tears escape down my cheek, some what cool against my fevered skin. My entire body felt like it was just one huge bundle of knots and spasms.
"It's okay, you're doing fine. . ." A soft hand brushed over my sweaty, tangled hair, the voice barely audible over the roaring in my ears. "You're alright, it's ok. . . ."
I knew this wasn't normal, it shouldn't have been this difficult, this painful, it shouldn't have lasted this long. Something was wrong. No matter how hard I tried, how hard I pushed, my baby girl refused to enter this world.
I suffered for hours, fighting the pain of the labor. I barely registered the needle as it entered my arm, the pain fading slightly. I wanted it to be over, for all of it to end.
"Come on, just a little bit further. . . ."
My body spasmed, a scream ripping from my throat. I fell back on to the mattress, my mind foggy. I could hear nothing but silence.
I was vaguely aware of someone leaving the room. The person who's hand I had been crushing moved away. Nothing but silence.
"Where's my baby?" I asked, my voice like sandpaper to my ears. I got no answer. I hear no cries, no excited voices. Hushed whispers ran through my mind, I could feel the tears building. "Where is she? I want to see her. Bring me my baby!" I sounded hysterical to my own ears, the desperate calls bouncing off the stark white walls around me. I tried to sit up, to see into the next room. Only to be stopped by a pair of strong arms.
"Settle down. You are still very weak. . ."
"I want to see my child!"
My husband sighed, sitting down beside me. He took my shaking hand in his, as tenderly as if it were to break at the slightest of touches.
"What's wrong? What has happened?"
His eyes were rimmed with red, the dark depths somber. "She. . . she was stillborn. . . . Honey. . . she's gone. . . ."
I felt my heart shatter. "No. . . not my baby. . . . Please, God, no. . . ." I looked at one of the nurses. "Can. . . I see her? I want her to at least have a name. . . ."
The nurse nodded and disappeared, only to return moments later with a little pink bundle.
As I took the little pink bundle in my arms, i pulled the cloth away, revealing her tiny ashen face. Her little head had a tangle of dark hair so very like her father's, her beautiful face so very lovely and angelic. I had a fleeting thought cross my mind. If she were to open those eyes of her's, would they be blue, like mine? Or dark, like her father's? I realized I would never find out. She would never open her eyes, never draw her first breath, say her first words, take her first steps. Never to grow up.
"My little girl. . . my little Serena. . . ."