Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
When I left for work this morning, she was fine.
Now ... this nightmare.
We arrive at the hospital, and she’s immediately rushed in while I’m sent to wait. Wait, like I’m not her fucking husband and that’s not my damned baby. Wait. They just want me to fucking wait. Wait for what? To see if she’s okay? If my daughter is okay?
I feel sick to my stomach.
Hours pass with no word.
Until finally a doctor comes out. His face tells me that he has bad news, and my mind immediately goes to Isla.
“Is she okay?” I ask, holding my breath.
“She’s okay, but the baby ...”
“What’s wrong with the baby?” I yell, losing it without meaning to.
“The baby is gone, Bohdi. I’m very sorry. There were severe complications and we had to rush her in for surgery. The baby didn’t make it. I’m so incredibly sorry.”
What?
What?
The world spins around me as I stare at the doctor, his voice trailing in and out as my vision blurs.
Gone.
My baby is gone.
How?
Why?
Why would this happen to me?
Is it because I’m a fucking murderer?
Is it because I don’t deserve happiness?
“You can go and see her, she’s awake.”
I follow him down the hall in a daze—I don’t know what to do think. When I enter the room, Isla is lying back with her eyes closed, tears rolling down her cheeks. In that moment, I realize that I do love my wife. Maybe not the soul crushing love that you hear about, but love all the same. She’s hurting, and my instinct is to protect her.
I move closer and, when I reach her, I take her hand.
Her eyes open, and the second she sees me, an agonized sob leaves her throat. “She’s gone, Bohdi.”
“I know, baby.”
I lean down, carefully wrapping my arms around her and closing my eyes as a tear rolls down my cheek.
“She’s gone,” she sobs. “Gone.”
I clench my eyes shut tighter.
Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt fills my chest, overtaking my every emotion.
My baby is gone.
My daughter is gone.
She’s gone.
And I’m not getting her back.
ONE MONTH LATER
“You have to get out of bed, Isla,” I say to my wife, my voice careful.
She has been in bed for a month, rarely getting out. She’s depressed, and she’s hurting. I understand that. Her family disowned her when they found out she was pregnant and was marrying me. I tried to tell them she lost the baby, but they hung up on me. I went around there and they slammed the door in my face. I stood on their patio roaring that their daughter was suffering.
Then I left.
They never came.
She’s alone, and she’s alone because of me.
So, I let her stay in bed for a month. I let her grieve, mourn, cry. I went to work, I fed her, I bathed her, I gave her the time she deserved.
But she’s depressed now, falling into a dark place I’m scared she won’t come out of.
I’m drowning in it, I don’t want her in it too.
I get up each day and I can barely fucking breathe. Between the death of my mom which plays on my conscience twenty-four-seven, to the loss of my baby and now working three fucking jobs. I can’t breathe. I haven’t touched the water in months.
I don’t know how to fucking cope anymore.
“Leave me alone, Bohdi,” Isla says, rolling to her side.
“You gotta get out of bed, Isla. Today, I want you to take a walk with me to the beach.”
“No.”
Fuck.
I’m trying.
I really am.
“I know you’re hurtin’, but you can’t live like this forever. I want to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
Her voice is flat. Dead.
“I know you don’t, but I’m giving it to you. I’m your husband ...”
“You’re my husband because I was pregnant. You married me thinking you were doing the right thing. We don’t have a baby anymore, Bohdi.”
“I know that, but we will. One day, again, we will.”
I married her. I made a promise. I’m not the kind to just give up on that. Regardless of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore. I’m not my fucking father, and I’m certainly not my mother. I take my vows very fucking seriously.
She rolls at my words. “We will?”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, we will. I married you, I’m not going anywhere. I made a promise, I’m going to stick to it. We’ll have a baby again. More than one. But you gotta get out of bed.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, but she nods and climbs out of bed.
The promise of more children enough to get her moving.
My heart is cold as stone, and I’m trying so fucking hard to melt it. Maybe more children will do that.
God, I hope it does.
Isla gets dressed and we take a walk on the beach. She’s pale compared to her usual golden complexion. She closes her eyes and breathes in the salty air. I stare at the waves, so fucking desperate to get out in them again, to live the life I’m supposed to be living. I’m fucking young. This isn’t how it’s meant to be.