Читать книгу A Charmed Life - Nancy Jr. Manther - Страница 4

This was the charm that always made Annie’s heart hurt. It represented Dillon, her first baby, who was stillborn. Every time she looked at the brilliant blue star, she remembered him, no matter how many years had passed. Of course, thinking of him was no amazing feat, because she had a hard time recalling even a day since he’d been born that she hadn’t, even if only for a moment. Even if she barely caught it herself; if the thought was so fragile and fleeting that she nearly missed it, he was always there, close to her heart. What no one seemed to understand, was that Dillon’s dying had changed her life forever. It had changed her.

It was the first time Annie could recall that her prayers weren’t answered. To be honest, they were the first prayers that had ever really mattered. They might have been the only prayers. All of that fell by the wayside when Dillon was born; when he was born dead.

There had been a warning sign, but she hadn’t realized it. At around thirty-two weeks she had developed a rash – a non-specific rash, the midwife had called it. No one seemed concerned. It was also June and one of the hottest anyone could remember. The mercury hit ninety degrees more than once that summer. It was probably just a heat rash – no big deal. Annie’s maternal radar had been activated. She was worried.

A little over a week later, she felt the cramps. They were mild at first – she chalked them up to a normal discomfort of pregnancy. After all, she was in her last trimester. She was bound to be getting uncomfortable. They had been sporadic during the day; a little more bothersome by evening.

Eric had been at work, as usual. He worked a lot of late evenings then as a new accountant. He got home shortly after 11:00 p.m. that night and tumbled into bed next to her, exhausted. She’d been sleeping but was restless, because of the cramps and the heat. The small oscillating fan perched on the dresser blew a weak but steady breeze over the bed, but it wasn’t enough. She stirred and looked over at Eric with heavy eyes.

“Hey you,” she whispered, “long day?”

He slung his arm over her belly. “The longest.” He was lying on his back, eyes closed, his other arm flung over his head. Within seconds he was sleeping.

Great, she thought, he wakes me up and now that I’m awake, he’s asleep. She smiled at him tenderly in spite of her thoughts. He had been working harder than ever now that the baby was coming. He had become “Eric, The Provider” - hunting money to take care of his new little family. With a sigh of resignation, she realized she had to go to the bathroom. She wanted to ignore the urge, but knew that would be an exercise in futility. There was no denying it. She swung her leg over, to give her the leverage she needed to get out of the waterbed, and schlepped down the hall to the bathroom. When she sat down on the toilet she had no idea that her world would change only moments later. There, on the toilet paper, was a brown, slimy blob. It made her cringe to look at it. She knew what it was, what it meant. It was the mucus plug she’d read about in her pregnancy books, and it only meant one thing - that she would be in labor very soon.

It struck a chord deep inside her - this wasn’t good. Annie made her way back to the bedroom, every step gentle and soft, so as not to disturb the baby any further.

“Eric,” she said and nudged her snoring spouse. He was sound asleep now, and simply rolled over, away from her – away from the source of irritation. “Eric, wake up.” This time she shook his shoulder more vigorously, her heart pounding as her terror increased. She felt like she was going to throw up.

“What!” He barked as he opened his eyes a little. “I just fell asleep.”

“I think I lost my plug”, she whispered, trying hard not to fall apart.

He looked at her blankly. “That’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”

She sighed and took a deep breath. Hadn’t he been listening in childbirth classes? This wasn’t supposed to happen now, it was too soon. She was terrified. Annie looked at Eric and fear dug its gnarled fingers deep into her heart. He looked like he was shutting down, going into his denial mode. The way that Eric chose to handle her problems was to ignore them until she went away. She knew this problem was not going to go away. Some sixth sense had kicked into high gear. The nightmare had begun.

Annie sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to Eric. The cramps she had dismissed as “nothing” earlier, were starting to return. She grasped the wooden edge of the bed frame and held on tightly. If she let go, she was afraid she’d lose any self-control that was left. Eric raised himself up on his left elbow, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his right hand. He looked at his wife’s back through bleary eyes, heavy with sleep. He reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“What should we do?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“We need to call the doctor – the hospital, I mean. Labor and Delivery.” Annie’s eyes were filling with frightened tears that threatened to spill over any minute. “Where’s the phone?” It was a rhetorical question – she knew where it was – but it seemed too daunting a task to reach over and get it off the nightstand.

They were told to come right away. The rest was a detailed blur. The feelings remained strong and sharp, but gradually it all melted together.

When they arrived at the hospital, a stocky nurse with short brown hair that had been permed one time too many, brought them to a room on the Labor and Delivery unit. It was too soon to be there, but Annie knew that it was for the best. Where else should you be when you’re in labor? Labor. It was much too early. Surely, they’d be able to stop it. What if they couldn’t? She didn’t think she could handle having a preemie. The myriad of thoughts that always clogged her mind when she thought about “what if?” were running rampant. She was having trouble staying calm.

“Eric” she whispered as her eyes filled with tears, “I’m scared.” He patted her leg, trying to reassure her.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Try not to worry.”

Not worry, she thought, why not tell me not to breathe? How could she not worry? This was their baby – their child. Suddenly things were off course. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to make Eric worry and certainly didn’t want to be any trouble, but she was terrified. Her intuition, her sixth sense, and her gut were all screaming at her at the same time. Listening to them made her afraid and sad, so she did her best to ignore them and to put on a “happy” face. It was more of a mask than a face, and one that she’d be wearing for years.

An attractive young woman with long dark hair and big brown eyes strode into the room. She was wearing a white lab coat and carried a clipboard in her left arm. A blue stethoscope was draped around her neck. She approached Annie and Eric with confidence and certainty.

She stretched out her right arm for a handshake. “I’m Dr. Lewis, the resident on duty.”

She was very businesslike and brusque, but she seemed to know what to do and for that Annie was grateful. The last thing they needed was to have some rookie who was as lost and afraid as they were. After examining Annie, the diagnosis was that she was in premature labor. At thirty-three weeks, it was too soon to have the baby, she explained, so they would give her a drug, Ritadrine, to stop the contractions and hopefully stop the labor. She would have to be on bed rest – possibly for the remainder of the pregnancy, or at least until the baby was big enough to be born.

Annie’s blood became ice in her veins. While she appreciated the resident’s confidence, every alarm in her body was going off. This was not good; the fairy tale was definitely over.

“We’ll keep you on a monitor to keep an eye on the baby’s heart rate and we’ll get that IV with the Ritadrine started,” Dr. Lewis continued, unaware of the terror spreading through Annie. “Any questions?” She finally looked up at them and was shocked to see tears running down Annie’s face.

“Is our baby going to be okay?” The question came out as a whisper; that’s all Annie could manage. If she forced out any more sound, she was afraid she’d lose control and start screaming at the tops of her lungs.

The young doctor hesitated before she spoke. She looked very thoughtful, as though she was formulating just the right answer in her head before she answered. She walked around to the foot of the bed. A safer place to share less than wonderful news.

“We’re going to do everything we can to keep your baby where it belongs. The best place for it is inside of you. You are the best incubator. There’s no reason to believe it won’t be fine, as long as you do everything we tell you.” She smiled weakly at them.

Oh great, Annie thought grimly, it’s all up to me. What if I do something wrong? What if I don’t rest enough? What if I’m not good enough?

“Do you know what could have caused the premature labor?” She asked the resident. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s unlikely that you did anything to cause it, but let’s rule out the obvious.” She continued to ask Annie a list of questions about her behavior – did she smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol? How much caffeine did she consume? What about drugs, street or prescription? Was she eating properly? Did she get enough rest? What kind of exercise did she get?

The barrage of questions made her feel like a criminal on the witness stand. She had followed her midwife’s orders to the letter and had read every book about pregnancy that she could get her hands on as well. She was a model expectant mother, and yet this snippy young doctor was implying otherwise. Of course, that would make her job easier; then they’d have a reason.

“She’s been perfect,” Eric interjected. Annie looked at him gratefully. Until this point he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. It felt good to have him defend her. “And she’ll do everything you tell her to,” he added. Again, it seemed that it was all up to her.

“Well, sir, it’s not quite that easy,” Dr. Lewis said. “It took both of you to get this baby started and it’s going to take both of you to get it safely to its due date. Bed rest means bed rest. No chores, no walking around, no nothing. Annie, you can only get up to go to the bathroom. That’s it.” She converged on Eric again. “So, you will be doing the cooking and cleaning and everything, so that all your wife has to do is rest and grow this baby. Do you understand?” Her eyes could have bored holes into Eric’s forehead.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll wait on her hand and foot. I’ll treat her like a queen,” he squeezed her foot as he spoke, smiling at her. Annie smiled back weakly.

“But for now, we’ll take care of you here,” she continued. “Until the contractions have stopped with the IV and then stay controlled with oral medication, you’ll be right here.” She made this statement emphatically, as though they would find comfort in it. She even gave her head one short nod, as if to punctuate the order. “We’ll move you to a room as soon as one is ready. Mr. Morgan, you’ll need to go down to Admitting and take care of the paperwork.” And with that, she was gone.

Annie and Eric looked at each other. Twenty-four hours ago things were fine. How could they have ever guessed that this waited for them?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. He didn’t seem to know what to say, so he said nothing. She sank back into the pillow and turned her head toward the window. She had to be strong. She would not cry – but that’s all she wanted to do.

“I better go downstairs and admit you,” he said. “And have a smoke.” He nervously felt his shirt pocket for the pack of Marlboro Lights, just to be sure it was still there. It had been a couple of hours since he’d had one.

“Okay.” She knew that smoking was the first thing he’d do. Everything and everyone else secondary until that first hit of poison was inhaled. Only then did the rest of the world exist.

The minute he left the room, the tears came. She welcomed them as they ran down her cheeks. What was she going to do? How would they ever get through this? Bed rest meant she couldn’t work anymore. What would they do for money? How was this going to work? Her brain was bombarded with questions, her heart was burdened with worries. Just then, the baby gave her a little kick, as if to say, “Remember me?” and she wept even more. She cradled her belly in her arms, loving her little one the best she could.

“I know you’re worth it,” she cooed, patting her tummy, wishing she could reach inside and hold him. “We’ll have such good stories to tell you about all of this someday.” She willed herself to be calm for the baby, knowing that any undue stress could be harmful. This led her to another train of thought – had this been caused by stress? She didn’t think she’d been under much, but this was all new, and she was worried about so many things. The thought made her feel queasy. How could she have put her child in danger with her own petty worries? Hadn’t Eric always told her to settle down, to stop worrying? Would he ever forgive her if something went wrong? Would it be her fault? Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse who bustled into the room, pushing a wheelchair.

“How’s it going?” she asked much too cheerfully. She was about Annie’s age, but seemed much younger. “We get to move to a new room!” It sounded like she was announcing that Annie’s just won the lottery.

“Lucky us,” replied Annie, trying so hard to sound upbeat instead of sarcastic. She plastered a polite smile on her face. This young nurse had adopted the “we” lingo that health care professionals so frequently used when talking to patients. It made Annie feel like either a child or an old person, weak and vulnerable. She didn’t like it one little bit.

The nurse’s name was Melanie. She was very attractive, with curly blonde hair, that was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She wore just enough make-up to look pretty, not trashy. She was tiny – about 5’2” and couldn’t have weighed more than 100 lbs. soaking wet. She had the type of figure that Annie had always coveted – narrow hips and thighs and a fairly large bosom. It was the type of figure that she always worried Eric coveted too. He’d dated a girl in high school who he had described as always needing a swimsuit top two sizes larger than the bottoms. Annie had always had the opposite problem and felt inadequate and dumpy every time she heard that story.

She felt especially like that now – like a beached whale – as the petite little nurse helped her slowly from the bed to the wheelchair. She wasn’t an invalid, but Melanie handled her very gently, as though she might break. They had just gotten her settled into the wheelchair when Eric strode back into the room.

“Hey there,” he said to them both, “Am I too late to help?” Then he extended an outstretched hand to Melanie, “I’m Eric Morgan, Annie’s husband.”

Melanie was busy collecting Annie’s things from the windowsill and threw a glance in his direction instead of shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. We’re moving your wife to a new room.” She handed him Annie’s purse and a plastic bag which held the clothes she had worn to the hospital. “Would you mind carrying these?” She was business-like and professional and Annie couldn’t have loved her more at that moment. The last thing she needed was to watch Eric be his charming, flirtatious self.

“Sure,” he said, as he took the items. A concerned look clouded his face. “But is she ready to be moved? Isn’t it kind of soon?”

“No – don’t worry.” Melanie started pushing the wheelchair toward the door. “As long as a room is available, we need to move her. We need to free up the birthing room. She’ll be fine.” And with that, they started down the hall to the elevators.

The words “birthing room” stung Annie’s heart. She knew it was too soon for the baby to be born, but she wanted it all to be over, with a happy ending. The unknown loomed in front of her and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see around it.

They kept her in the hospital four more days. It was nearly unbearable. She felt as though she didn’t belong, but there was no way she wanted to go home. At least she felt safe there, the fetal heart monitor strapped around her belly like a big hug. She had become accustomed to the gentle, rhythmic beating of her baby’s heart. She heard it first thing in the morning and it was her lullaby as she fell into a restless sleep each night. The thought of going home without being able to hear it every second terrified her. How would she know the baby was okay?

Another thought, one that kept nagging at her, terrified her as well. The baby hadn’t been as active since she’d been in the hospital. She’d mentioned it to the doctors and nurses, but they didn’t seem concerned. They reassured her that the heartbeat was strong and regular, that everything was fine. No amount of reassurance could comfort her. She just couldn’t shake the fear that something was wrong.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Ready for dinner?” She turned her head to see Eric coming in with a bag from Burger King in one hand and a Dairy Queen bag in the other. Her appetite had all but left. It wasn’t that the hospital food was that bad, she just wasn’t hungry. Eric had cajoled her into agreeing to a fast food dinner. French fries could usually cheer her up.

“I got all of your favorites,” he announced proudly as he wheeled the tray table over to her. He proceeded unpack the goodies in the bag. “I got you a Whopper, a large fry and an apple pie. Last but not least,” he said with a flourish, “a Peanut Buster Parfait. A meal fit for a queen!” He beamed at her.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, smiling at him. “It looks great. Did you get something for you?” It didn’t look great to her at all; the smell made her feel a little nauseous, but it had been so nice of him to bring it. She had to at least try to eat.

“No, I’ll get something later. I’m going to meet some of the guys from work at the Outpost.” The Outpost was the favorite watering hole of Eric’s office. He’d been stopping there more frequently these past few months. She chalked it up to her not being able to drink or stay up very late and her resemblance to a Beluga whale. “But you go ahead. Dig in!”

Her heart sank. It was one thing for him to go out when she’d been at home, happily and normally pregnant, but nothing was happy and normal anymore. That had ended the day she’d walked into the hospital.

“What time are you doing that?” She had to swallow hard to get rid of the tears that were building with incredible speed.

“Not for a while yet,” he replied as he pushed the buttons on the bed railing to change the channel on the T.V. “What time is it anyway? The ball game should be on.” He impatiently surfed through the few channels that were available until he found the baseball game.

Annie looked at her food. Now that Eric was going to be leaving, she had even less of an appetite. Her heart hurt at the thought of spending another night there alone, another night of trying to ignore her fears. In many ways she felt safe there, but also very much alone. She knew that part of the reason she felt that way was because she was keeping so many of her feelings from him. Annie didn’t think he wanted to hear about it, so she kept quiet. Tears burned her eyes. She averted her gaze toward the window, away from Eric, so he wouldn’t see. He’d always hated it when she cried about anything. It was a sure fire way to lose his attention. Her throat ached with trapped sobs and unspoken fears.

“You better start eating before it gets cold,” his voice broke her concentration. “Aren’t you hungry? You’ve got to eat, you know.”

She blinked once and the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“What’s the matter?” asked Eric. He sounded totally baffled as to why she would be crying. “Did you want a Big Mac instead?” He was trying to be funny.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. If she said much more, all of the emotion would escape. “I can’t help it.”

He had one eye on the baseball game, flashing on the T.V. screen in the corner of the ceiling. “What’s wrong? Didn’t the doctors say everything’s going to be okay?”

“They don’t know,” she said carefully, trying to maintain control. “They can’t make any promises. I’m just so scared.” Now she turned toward him, hoping for some comfort.

Eric was now completely engrossed in the baseball game. He seemed oblivious to her worries. She looked at him tenderly, but the tenderness was quickly replaced with frustration.

“Did you hear what I just said?” she asked. The irritation was heavy in her voice. He looked at her, confused.

“What?” Now he sounded irritated too.

“Never mind,” she murmured, convinced he wouldn’t understand. She really thought that keeping her true feelings from him would help, that somehow it would protect him and make things better. Thus the pattern was set. Set in stone.

The doctors sent her home when the contractions had stabilized enough for their criteria. The only way the contractions would be be stable enough for Annie, was for the doctors to give her a signed and sealed guarantee – which she knew they couldn’t provide. So she went home, scared to death. The elevator ride was a nightmare. There she was, new moms all around her, bringing their babies home, and she had no idea what her future held. Would she be one of them someday? She could only hope and pray. She found it painful to even look at them, all sweet and rosy in their newborn glow. Would she ever know that joy? She desperately wanted to believe that she would, but a tiny place in her soul held the truth.

Eric had opened up the hide-a-bed sofa that was in the den for her to use for her bed rest. He thought it would be better than having her secluded upstairs in the bedroom away from everything. He’d put clean, crisp sheets and a light blanket on it, and had fluffed and arranged the pillows in a cozy heap. It looked so comfortable and inviting, she wanted to climb right in and hide for the next seven weeks straight.

“It looks great,” she crooned, “It’s so sweet of you to get it all ready like this.”

Eric looked up from the stack of mail in his hand and smiled. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” she said as she reached over to give him a hug. His attention was now riveted on the pile of bills and the smile that had just been there was replaced by a frown. Worry gnawed deeper in her gut once again when she saw his expression.

She knew he was worried about how they were going to pay the bills, with her suddenly not being able to work. They hadn’t been able to save much money to live on during her maternity leave, but they’d managed to put some aside. This unexpected bump in the road would use that up and more. Tears burned her eyes again. Would this never end?

“I’m sorry.” She felt like it was all her fault. His silence wasn’t helping her feel any differently. He turned to look at her, his expression guarded.

“It’ll be okay,” he said as he squeezed her shoulder, “Don’t I always take care of you? I’ll figure something out.”

She wanted his assurance to comfort her, but it didn’t. All she could think about was the money she wouldn’t be making for the next three months. If she went full term, she’d be on bed rest for seven weeks. She’d be lucky if she could take the minimum six weeks of maternity leave at that point. Annie knew she’d feel compelled to cut it short for the sake of their budget. All of these worries stacked themselves neatly upon her shoulders as well as her heart, and she felt as though she were made of lead.

Eric helped her get settled into her new accommodations. The hide-a-bed was positioned exactly in front of the T.V. and a stack of current women’s magazines sat on the end table next to the bed. A tall glass of ice water sat nearby, tiny droplets of condensation running down its sides, forming a ring on the table below. The phone was placed within close reach. She climbed into her new nest.

“This is really comfy,” she said to him as she sank back into the mound of pillows. “I hope I still think that a month from now.”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’d give anything to be able to lie around in bed and be waited on for weeks! You’ve got it made!”

Annie knew he was just trying to be jolly and keep her spirits up, but really - who was he kidding? Did he really think this was great? That she was lucky? She didn’t want to think about it or talk about it now. She just wanted to fast forward to her due date and deliver their healthy little baby.

“Are you hungry?” Eric asked. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

“No, not really. Maybe later.” She pulled the sheet up under her chin. “I think I’ll sleep for a while.” Now that she thought about it, she was exhausted – and besides that, she wanted to escape. Sleep worked well that way.

“Okay,” he started, “Well, if you’re going to sleep, I think I’ll go in to the office for a while. There’s a ton of work I need to get caught up on.”

“That’s fine.” She snuggled down under the covers and looked up at him. He leaned down and kissed her forehead lightly before he turned to leave. “Why don’t you give Sally a call and ask her to come and stay with you?”

“Did you forget? Frank and Sally are on a sabbatical in India for a month.” The thought of the aunt and uncle who were her only family, being so far away, made her feel especially lonely. She needed them now, much like she did after each of her parents had died, so many years ago.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Well, you’ll be fine. Who knows? By the time they get back, we’ll probably have a baby!” And with that, he kissed the top of her head, and left for the office.

Annie wondered what happened to being treated like a queen and being waited on hand and foot. They had only been home a half hour and she was already on her own. Then she berated herself for being so self-absorbed. Of course he needed to go to work – they needed the money more than ever now. She closed her eyes before the tears could start because she knew that Eric needed to escape for a while too. The thought that her husband needed to get away from her and their baby, from the fear and uncertainty that engulfed her, made the pit of her stomach sting with despair.

A day and a half later, she had an appointment at the clinic to see how things were going. The baby had been less active, but she attributed that to the fact that she was less active as well. The appointment was with Dr. Hayes, a doctor she’d never heard of, but he was the only one with time available. The nurse midwives she’d been seeing at the clinic considered her too high risk; she needed a “real” doctor now.

He strode into the small exam room with the self-assurance of a movie star, a quarterback, a god. Later on Annie couldn’t decide if these were qualities that she gave to him or if he was really like that. At any rate, he exuded confidence. The confidence faltered a bit when the Doptone couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat.

“I’ve always hated these things,” he said, his face reddening with every syllable. “I’ll get the stethoscope.” He untangled a goofy looking contraption with tubes and metal earpieces from a hook on the wall. It also had a strange metal headband on it, which Annie would’ve found amusing if it were another situation. It looked like something from Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory.

Dr. Hayes placed the bell of the instrument on her belly and listened carefully. You could’ve heard a pin drop, but all that they listened for was a heartbeat. It seemed that everyone was holding their breath. He frowned and repositioned the stethoscope, and waited intently for what seemed like forever. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead as he bent over Annie. He moved it around, hoping to find the precious sound.

Annie looked up at the ceiling of the exam room, her heart beating wildly. She tried her best to calm it down, but it was no use. If only she could give some of her heartbeats to her baby, then everything would be okay. She said a brief prayer, asking God for the strength she was going to need soon.

The doctor straightened up while removing the stethoscope from his forehead which was dripping with nervous perspiration. His expression was grim. He looked as though he would rather be anywhere but where he was at that moment. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm and placed the stethoscope on the counter top.

“Annie, Eric,” he said in a quiet but strong voice, “I can’t find a heartbeat. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there, but just that it’s too faint for me to find with my ears alone. I want you guys to go down to the hospital for an ultrasound. Just so that we know what’s going on.”

It was only a fifteen minute drive to the hospital, but it was the longest and yet the shortest drive of Annie’s life. As the skyline of downtown Minneapolis came into view, she knew that she’d think of this moment whenever she saw it, for the rest of her life. The sooner they got there, the sooner they’d know ‘what’s going on.’ In her heart she knew what the doctor was trying not to say, but she couldn’t let herself even think it, let alone utter the words to Eric. They rode in silence.

Silence and denial became the modus operandi for their lives. Any tendencies they had to ignore the obvious and live in oblivion became cemented in their repertoires during that ride to the hospital. They were changed forever.

Once at the hospital, they were ushered to the ultrasound room. There had been no reason to have an ultrasound before this, so it would be Annie’s first. The room was dark, with an exam table in the middle. It was covered with white paper like all exam tables were, but there was also a large hospital pillow there for her head. They were greeted by a familiar face. Dr. Lewis, the young resident, was waiting for them.

“Hi Annie, Eric,” she said gently, “I’m on call tonight so I’ll be helping Dr. Hayes – he’s on call too. Let’s have you get up on the table here.”

Annie carefully scooted up onto the exam table and lied down. The starched white pillow felt cool as she rested her head on it. Dr. Lewis wheeled a cart over next to her that had a large monitor on it, connected to a keyboard and some other equipment. The ultrasound technician squirted some gel on Annie’s belly and proceeded to slide a thing that looked like a microphone around in circles.

“I’m looking for your baby’s heartbeat right now,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. Their eyes were all transfixed on the screen. Annie and Eric had no idea what they were looking for, but the tech and the doctor seemed to know what they were doing.

There was no movement on the screen. There were no sounds. There was no life, no heartbeat. The baby had died. Their baby had died. There were no words after that. Life as they knew it was over.

The Ritadrine was stopped and the pains of labor began in earnest. They were even more painful because their result was not a vibrant, screaming, healthy infant, but a quiet, still, lifeless one. The pain had no purpose but to cause more pain.

Family and friends gathered at the hospital. It was the last place Annie wanted them to be. The best place they could be was anywhere but near her, but Eric needed them close by, so she did her best to deal with it. They ogled at her self-control and pain tolerance while trying to decide what to order from the restaurant on the corner. Even given the state of shock she was in, their behavior struck Annie as odd. She prayed for strength and grace. She also prayed for it to be over, while wanting it to last forever.

“Annie, it’s time to push.” The nurse had checked her seconds before and she was dilated to ten centimeters. Time to push. This was supposed to be a happy moment or at least a moment of relief. The only thing her mom had ever told her about childbirth, was that ‘it feels so good when they finally say you can push.’

She bore down, just like the nurse had instructed. Because this was happening prematurely, they hadn’t gotten to this stage in the childbirth classes yet. She had no idea what to do, but grasped her knees and pushed hard. Pain seared through her body. It felt as though a thousand bees were stinging her. This was almost worse than the contractions because it was so unexpected. Her mom had been mistaken; this didn’t feel good at all.

“You’re doing great, Annie,” said Dr. Hayes, “just one more push -” Normally he would’ve finished with, “and we’ll have a baby!” But he stopped short of that. Just one more push.

The baby came quickly. It was startling how easily he slipped out into the doctor’s large, outstretched hands. The room was silent and still, just as the birth had been.

“He’s beautiful,” the nurse said as she placed him in Annie’s arms. He was wrapped in a white blanket that had pink and blue stripes on it. His little face was so sweet and peaceful. He looked like he was sleeping.

“He looks perfect,” whispered Eric, as he gently pushed the blanket away from the baby’s chin. “He’s so cute.” His voice was quieter than usual, choked with emotion.

Annie looked down at her peaceful, perfect little boy. The nurse was right – he was beautiful. She tried to keep her emotions at bay, so she could take this moment to memorize everything about him. This would be her only chance and she instinctively knew that she had to make the most of it.

She traced his profile with the index finder of her left hand. He had an abundance of dark hair and his little brow was furrowed as though he was having a serious dream. He had a little rosebud mouth that was just like Eric’s. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she tried to memorize how he felt in her arms. Once they took him away, her arms would be so empty.

“How much does he weigh?” she asked.

The nurse brushed away a tear as she answered: “4 lbs. 10 oz. And he’s nineteen and a half inches long.”

A bag of sugar, thought Annie, he‘s almost as big as a bag of sugar. Out loud she said, with pride in her voice, “He’s not so little.”

“No,” Eric added, “he’s a big boy. He would’ve been a bruiser if he was full term!”

Annie nodded and cradled her son’s head in her hands and gently planted a kiss on his little forehead. She let her lips linger there, and inhaled deeply, as if to breathe in his very essence.

Just then the nurse who had been with them all night asked, “Annie, Eric, would you like me to baptize him?”

They looked at each other for a second and then both nodded their heads in agreement. Their Catholic upbringing kicked into full gear; baptism was important, although Annie knew that he was already in Heaven.

“What are you going to name him?” the nurse asked quietly.

“Dillon Paul,” Annie replied softly.

Eric quickly cleared his throat. “Are you sure we should use our boy name? Maybe we should save it for our next baby.” He said it carefully and quietly. They had a tough time finding and agreeing on the name. It seemed logical and reasonable to save it for another baby.

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “But Dillon is his name. We can’t use it for another baby.”

This wasn’t the time to challenge her. When they had another boy, they’d find a different name. She knew that Eric hadn’t been that crazy about the name Dillon anyway – especially the way Annie insisted they spell it.

“Okay, okay. We’ll name him Dillon.” He smiled at Annie and the nurse and then looked at his little boy. Dillon. He did look like a Dillon.

The nurse took the pink and blue striped bundle from Annie’s arms. Her arms were trembling as she held this most precious little person. She’d never had to baptize a stillborn baby before. As reverently and calmly as she could, she made a sign of the cross on the infant’s forehead and said, “Dillon Paul Morgan, I baptize you in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” She patted his head affectionately as she said the final word and gently gave him back to Annie.

The moment was holy. It was the only word Annie could think of to describe it. She felt so close to God and Dillon at that moment, and wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Anything, except a healthy baby, alive and crying in her arms. Feeling so close to God at that moment, she would’ve been crazy to lie about how she really felt.

Dr. Hayes knocked gently on the door and came in. “How are you two doing?” he asked quietly.

Annie looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. What could she say? How were they doing? She didn’t pretend to know.

“Are you ready to say good-bye?” he asked, his voice breaking. He had only met Annie and Eric that day, but seemed to feel such a bond, such responsibility for these young parents.

Annie looked down at Dillon tenderly. How could she ever let him go? He’d been her constant companion for the past eight months. He’d been her dream forever. She knew that it was time to say good-bye. Her tiny son was already starting to feel cold when she placed one last kiss on his cheek.

The nurse came and ever so quietly took him from her arms. It happened so gently that when she looked back on it later, it was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment of separation.

The room was dark and silent. There was such an emptiness now that Dillon was gone. Her arms ached as well as her heart – they were both so empty. Annie laid back in the hospital bed, exhausted. She fixed her gaze on the night sky because there was no where else to look. Eric was wrapping himself up in his feelings of loss and numbness. She respected his need to approach things in his own way, but it left her very much alone.

It was then that she saw it – a tiny star, glistening and shiny brightly, all alone in the darkness. She closed her eyes and looked again. It hadn’t been there a minute before – was she hallucinating? No, there it was, twinkling and shining more than it had before.

Suddenly a feeling of warmth and peace enveloped her. She smiled because she knew that Dillon was in Heaven. He was telling her that by making his little star shine brighter than all the others. He would always be in her heart, swaddled in a blanket of the memories of this night and all the days preceding it. Every time she looked at the night sky and saw his star or any star, she’d know that she was not alone.

Much of what happened next was a blur. Because she was no longer pregnant, she could have a room on a regular floor rather than the maternity floor, in case it would be too difficult for her to be around babies. Even through her newborn grief, she knew enough to sense that they wanted to get rid of her, to remove the pain and stigma of a pregnancy gone wrong.

“I’d like to be where people know how to take care of me,” she told Dr. Hayes. “This is my first baby…”

“Then that is what you will have,” he declared. “And you’ll have a private room. That’s the least we can do.”

This followed the discussion about how long she should stay home from work. The doctor was definitely her advocate. Eric suggested that since she didn’t have a newborn to care for, perhaps she’d need less time to recuperate. Dr. Hayes dismissed his comment without missing a beat.

“Annie had a baby - she needs the customary six week maternity leave.” He wrote his orders: a minimum of six weeks.

It was a relief to know that the time she’d need was validated, but she knew she’d go back to work sooner than that because they needed the money. While she was pregnant, she brought up the possibility of her working part-time after the baby came.

“There’s no way we can afford that,” Eric stated firmly. She took him at his word and didn’t argue because she knew he was right. Now, even though there was no baby, she regretted her decision not to fight for time with him. Having just held him and smelled his tiny newborn head made her realize how precious that time would have been, and she felt awful for having been so willing to give it away.

Her arms literally ached for wanting to hold him, not only for a moment but for the rest of her life. She was shocked at the intensity of her feelings. Not only did her arms ache, but her heart hurt as well. It was unlike any pain she’d ever felt before, either physical or emotional. It was exquisitely perfect, a vast collection of contradictions. The baby that had brought her so much joy was now the cause of unimaginable pain. The emptiness inside of her where he had just spent his entire little life was such a vast chasm of grief and loss, she could not begin to comprehend it. Her wounds were fresh and raw and she had no idea how she was going to live until tomorrow or the next five minutes without him.

According to her wishes, she was moved to a room – private – on the maternity floor. Eric was given a cot to sleep on next to her bed, and there they spent the rest of the night. They didn’t speak or touch. Each of them lay in their cocoons, alone and apart from each other.

Annie could never remember when she’d felt more alone. She gazed out the window at the now predawn sky. A chill ran from her forehead to her little toe, and she pulled the thin hospital blanket up under her chin to keep warm, to protect herself. The memory of Dillon’s birth was still strong in her mind, and she closed her eyes and did her best to relive it. As painful as it was, she never wanted to forget a moment of it. She had to remember it. That was all she’d ever have of him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a nurse and a hand on her shoulder.

“Annie. Hi. How are you doing?” She had a kind, soothing voice.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Are you having much pain?” The question was perfectly normal and valid, but Annie wanted to scream, ‘YES. You have no idea!’ But, of course, she didn’t. She simply said, “Not too much.”

“Well, that’s good,” the nurse replied, “but I’m afraid I’ll be causing you some - I have to knead your tummy.”

Annie looked at her, perplexed. “You have to what?”

“I have to knead your uterus. It makes it shrink.” She set to work, massaging and pushing on Annie’s abdomen as if it were a blob of bread dough instead of the sacred vessel that had just held her baby. As the nurse pushed and prodded, she closed her eyes and tried to transport herself to another place, to another place in time. She wanted to be taken care of properly, but this was too invasive. Her first instinct was to clutch her belly, to protect the place that had been Dillon’s home for the past thirty-four weeks. As the nurse did her job, she felt that her very soul was being touched. She felt pain on so many levels, it was difficult to tell where it started. There was supposed to be a squalling baby latching onto her breast to make this happen, not a nurse simulating the event. It broke her heart yet again.

“Normally nursing your baby takes care of this because it releases hormones that do the trick, but…” Suddenly she realized what she was saying and to whom she was saying it. Her demeanor changed abruptly. “So, that should be good for now. Be sure to press the call button if you need anything.” With that, she turned on her heel and hurried from the room, her head down, going about one hundred miles an hour.

Annie 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 – Terri did them. You know my sister. She can’t stand to see a dirty dish,” he replied, shaking his head.

“When was she here?” It bothered Annie to know that Eric’s sister had been there when she’d been in the hospital. Terri never thought that Annie’s housekeeping skills were good enough; she always found fault with something and then took it upon herself to report it in detail to the rest of the family. Annie had no idea what shape the house had been in – she’d had other things on her mind.

“She offered to come over and straighten things up before you came home, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it. I thought it was pretty nice of her.”

“I guess so.” She tried to choose her words carefully, not wanting to put Eric on the defensive about his sister. “I just don’t remember how messy it was -”

He interrupted her. “It’s fine – it wasn’t that bad. She just wanted to help.” The tension in his voice was so brittle she was afraid it would shatter and cover the floor with shards of what had been their life before all of this had happened. She feared that if that happened, they would never be able to piece it back together again. It struck her as ironic that her life had become a metaphor for Humpty Dumpty. Were they going to be broken forever?

“Okay – sorry. That was really kind of her. I just -”

“I know – you just.” He went back outside to have a cigarette, letting the screen door slam behind him.

Annie sighed and walked into the living room. Everything felt so empty – the house, the room, her arms. She sank down onto the couch and put her head in her hands. What was going to happen to them? How were they going to get through this? Her heart pounded in her chest as the questions raced through her head. She grabbed a pillow that was nearby and held it tightly, needing to hold onto something because it hurt too much not to.

Her thoughts drifted to Dillon. She wondered what it would have been like if everything had been all right and he had been born strong and healthy. What would be the first thing she’d do when they brought him home? She imagined bringing him into the nursery, gently laying him on the changing table and kissing his little toes when she unwrapped the receiving blanket. Eric would be there next to her, marveling at his newborn little boy, beaming with pride.

Cigarette smoke wafted in through the screen door from the backyard and brought her back to reality. Giving the pillow another squeeze, she stood up and walked to the spare bedroom. She’d been keeping the few baby things she had gotten in the closet since it had been too soon to prepare the nursery. She needed to go through them, to hold them and touch them. She needed a tactile connection to Dillon that only the little undershirts and sleepers could provide. He’d never worn them, but it seemed to be the only way she could feel close to him right now.

Her heart started beating wildly when she opened the closet door. Where were all the baby things? She was sure she had stacked them in a neat little pile on a box in the left hand corner. The box was there, but the baby clothes were gone. Annie felt her face flush as she searched every nook and cranny for the missing items. Maybe she had absent-mindedly put them in the back of the closet or on the right-hand side. Perhaps she’d stuck them up on the shelf and had forgotten about it. She dragged a step stool out from behind the garment bag of winter coats, and climbed up onto it to get a better view of the top shelf. Frantic now, she felt as though she was not just looking for little t-shirts, but for Dillon himself. For a split second she hoped that she’d actually find him, snuggled up in the corner, but then realized how crazy that was.

Am I losing my mind? She comforted herself with the thought that if she really were crazy, she wouldn’t be able to even ask the question. But where were those damn baby clothes?

She smelled Eric approaching before she saw him – the cigarette smoke announced his arrival. Before he could say anything, she confronted him. “Where are the baby clothes? Where are Dillon’s things?” Tears stung her eyes and she felt as though she was going to be sick.

Eric sighed heavily at the sight of her rummaging around in the closet and again shook his head, in what she interpreted as disgust.

“Would you please relax?” he said, the impatience in his voice nipping at her soul. “Terri thought it would upset you to have them here.”

“So, where are they?” It was so hard to maintain civility and control.

He lowered his head a little and muttered, “I don’t know. I just told her to take them away. I thought it would be too hard on you to see them.”

Try as she might to hear the words he was saying, all that came across was that he meant well. Terri meant well. The chaplain meant well. Was the future going to be dominated by those who meant well but who were tearing out her heart in the process?

She wanted to shout at him. ‘Last night I held our dead baby in my arms. What could be harder than that?” She wanted to, but she didn’t. He was hurting too. It wouldn’t be fair to lash out and cause more pain. Instead she pictured herself as a huge, almost empty duffle bag into which she’d stuff the hurt, pain, and sadness. Putting her feelings there would be so much easier on everyone, at least for now.

They decided that a small graveside service would be best, since he had “never really lived” and “no one had ever known him”. Annie didn’t really have a say in the decision and years later could never remember how it had all transpired. Their priest had said that it was what was typically done in “situations like this” and they just obediently followed his directions. Money was also an issue. Funerals were expensive.

The morning after Dillon was born, while Annie had still been in the hospital, Eric and his mother had gone to the funeral home to make the arrangements. She wasn’t even told about it until after everything was in order, another attempt to protect her from something that would be too hard on her. She felt cheated out of making those important final decisions about her baby, but dismissed it as being a good thing for Eric to be able to do for Dillon. He hadn’t known him in the intimate way she did during the pregnancy, so maybe this would be a way he could feel some closeness.

The funeral was on Monday, two days after he had been born. Annie couldn’t fit into any of her regular clothes yet and didn’t feel up to shopping, so she had to wear one of her maternity dresses. She chose a navy blue sleeveless one, since it was a close to black as she could get. It was a warm day, a balmy eighty degrees.

Even though it wasn’t supposed to be a “real” funeral, they had a little procession from their house to the cemetery. Eric had a large family, so there was more than just a handful of people. It was thoughtful of them to come, but Annie felt as though some of them were there out of curiosity more than concern. If nothing else, they just wanted to see how she and Eric would cope at their baby’s funeral. She might have done the same thing, so she tried not to judge them. She ached with longing for Sally and Frank. Their absence magnified the emptiness within her.

The line of cars wound its way around the graceful curves of the cemetery. Just when Annie thought they’d be stopping, there was yet another curve to go around and follow. Finally Eric pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. He turned off the engine.

“Well,” he said, looking straight ahead through the windshield, “here we are.”

Annie looked out the window and saw the decorative sign that labeled this section of the cemetery: “Babyland.” It gave her chills at first, but then she felt an odd sort of comfort and camaraderie. All the babies who had been put to rest here had parents who were feeling just like she and Eric were at that very moment. It helped her feel less alone and gave her the strength she needed to get out of the car.

“It looks nice,” she said quietly. “It’s very pretty.” She gave Eric’s hand a little squeeze and they turned to walk over to the grave. When she looked in that direction, she gasped sharply. There, sitting on a little platform, was a small, white container that looked a lot like a cooler. She looked at Eric, questions in her eyes. He nodded and said, “That’s him.”

She wasn’t sure exactly how to react, there were so many emotions competing for her attention at once. Not only had she just arrived at her child’s funeral, but she had to deal with the fact that he was sealed inside of a casket that looked just like the Rubbermaid cooler they had at home. They had just used it for a picnic they had been invited to earlier that summer. That day seemed like a million years ago – so much had happened since then. A group of friends, about five couples, had decided to get together for a picnic at Minnehaha Falls. It had been a glorious summer day, the kind that is perfect for relaxing on a blanket and watching the clouds change form. She didn’t know if she’d ever want to use it again.

Okay, Annie, she told herself, you can handle this. This is how baby caskets look. Accept it and move on.

She glanced at Eric for guidance what to do next, but he was distracted, talking to some of their friends. Looking around, she made a conscious effort to notice who took the time out of their busy lives to be there. Standing in a small cluster near the road stood some of Eric’s coworkers. She was a little surprised to see them here, since they had decided that only family and a handful of close friends should attend the service, but what could she do? Ask them to leave? She had never even met two of the women in the group. One of them was rather plain and dowdy, wearing a shapeless cotton dress that was made out of a small floral print. Her hair was light brown and pulled back into a thin ponytail. She had a kind, but plain face, her eyebrows knit into a furrow of sadness and concern. Her eyes remained focused on the ground. It seemed to Annie that she was afraid to look up, to see the reality of what was happening around her. Annie found herself empathizing with the strange woman, because she felt much the same way.

The other woman was a different story. She was not plain and dowdy, but just the opposite. She was stunning. Tall and slender, she wore her sleeveless black sheath with graceful elegance. Her arms were tanned and toned as were her bare legs that seemed to go on forever. Blonde hair gently grazed her shoulders and glistened in the sun. She was not looking down, but rather was surveying the area with a boldness that seemed out of place. When their eyes met, the hairs on the back of Annie’s neck stood up and she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had seen the woman only a couple of weeks before, the day a limo had arrived at the house to take Eric to a work event at a water park in Wisconsin. It had caused a huge fight when he returned home, since he’d been out nearly all night. Shaken by this visceral reaction, Annie averted her gaze to Dillon’s little casket. Oddly enough, that seemed to calm her down, comfort her and allow her the time she needed to gather her composure. Why had the blonde woman chosen to come? Annie’s heart was beating wildly even thinking about it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was the priest. He quietly said, “ Should we get started?” Looking at him, she nodded.

She knew she had to go through this, just as she had gone through the labor and delivery. She remembered her Grandma’s favorite saying: “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” But I don’t want to be stronger, she thought. I just want Dillon back. Again she looked for Eric. She needed him near her now, next to her. She felt frail and fragile and ready to break into a thousand tiny pieces as she stood there. Alone.

The priest had made his way over to where the Rubbermaid casket sat on top of the green crushed velvet drape that covered a mound of dirt and busied himself looking over the passages from Scripture he had chosen to read that afternoon. Sunlight bounced off the white plastic finish of the casket as the branches of nearby trees were blown gently around by the balmy June breeze. It made Annie sad to think of Dillon being there all alone, and she walked over to be near him. She reached out her hand and patted the casket softly, as though it were his newborn baby cheek. It’s okay, sweetie, she thought, Mommy’s here.

Suddenly it seemed very quiet. A hush had descended upon the group gathered there. She glanced around and realized that everyone had taken her walk over to the casket as a signal that the service was about to start. They had formed a small semicircle behind her and all stood there looking at her. Some were crying, others were dry-eyed but composed. There were a few whose eyes were focused on the grass or the trees or the pair of geese that basked in the sunshine at the base of a large, marble monument nearby -- anywhere but at Annie and the tiny white box. They could not bring themselves look at her or at the casket because it simply made them too uncomfortable. In her mind’s eye she could see herself as they saw her and couldn’t blame them -- it was a painful sight to behold.

Eric appeared at her side, seemingly from out of nowhere. His hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. The priest must have been waiting for this, because upon seeing Eric, he began the service. Annie’s mind drifted during the priest’s opening remarks about the uncertainty and unfairness of life and how someday we would see Dillon again. She let it drift on purpose, because to listen to his well meaning words would have surely made her run up there and strangle him. He meant well. He was just doing his job and he truly believed what he said. After all, he was a priest. How could he know? Had his baby ever died? The voice of one of her best friends reeled her back to reality. She was reading from The Little Prince by Saint-Exupery, just as Annie had requested.

In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you will have stars that can laugh!

The words reminded her of the night Dillon was born and the star she had seen from the hospital window. She had read The Little Prince in high school and for some reason had remembered the part about the star at the last minute. She would never forget the courage and kindness it took for her friend to read it that day. It was the final reading of the service, the last words spoken.

No one knew what to say or do. Eric’s parents invited everyone to their house for something to eat. It was the logical thing to do -- it seemed too early to go home, Eric had reasoned. One by one people said quick good-byes and walked to their cars parked one behind the other along the edge of Babyland. Bits and pieces of their words floated toward Annie through the humid air.

“See you at the house.”

“Be there in a few minutes.”

“You can follow us, if you want.”

Annie was riveted to the spot where she stood next to Dillon’s casket. It was as though her feet had grown roots that ran deep -- roots that would cradle her baby underground, keeping him safe and warm forever. How could she just leave him there, all alone? Again, as they had so many times in the days since he had come into the world, her arms ached and her heart hurt. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to give herself some comfort.

“Come on, Annie,” Eric said as he walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s time to go.” He remained there, keeping his distance from the casket.

“It seems so cruel to just leave him here,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” the weariness in his voice was deafening.

“I know, but he’s all alone.”

Eric looked around as the last of the mourners got into their cars and prepared to leave.

“Annie, everyone’s going to my parents’ house now. We’re supposed to be there. Come on -- let’s go.” He took a few steps away from her, as if that would make her leave.

When she failed to follow him, he stopped and sighed, his frustration breaking through the thin veneer of patience and control. “Annie, come on. People are going to think you’re crazy if you stay here much longer.”

She turned toward him in slow motion, her heart pounding. She squeezed her hands into fists, her arms stiff and close to her sides. She opened and closed her fists several times and took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke, “Let them think I’m crazy.”

Even though her voice was barely audible, it was strong and clear. Eric squinted and tilted his head in her direction, straining to hear what she had said.

“What did you say?” he asked, almost afraid that he’d heard her correctly the first time.

“I said, let them think I’m crazy!” she repeated, saying each word more loudly than the last. By the time she finished the sentence, she was shouting. The priest, who was getting into his car at that moment turned and looked in their direction. He froze in place, balanced precariously between offering some assistance or driving away as quickly as possible. He offered up a fervent prayer, ducked into his Volkswagen Beetle and slowly inched his way away from the painful scene.

Eric stared at her, not knowing what to do or what to say. He looked over toward the cars by the curb and hoped the people inside of them hadn’t heard his wife’s outburst. Finally he just said, “Annie.” He looked at her helplessly, hoping she’d snap out of this strange behavior. “You’ll feel better if you get away from here.”

“I’m tired of being told how I feel or how I should feel! My baby is in that casket -- my baby! He’s so tiny and all alone. I can’t leave him. I just can’t.”

She was sobbing now, struggling to breathe in between each word. Annie stood there alone, her arms folded across her chest. She winced when her arms brushed her engorged breasts that Eric had helped her wrap with an ACE bandage. Her milk had come in that morning, filling her up with sweet milk that no baby would drink.

One of the nurses had explained that when the milk came in, it would be very painful for a day or two until it dried up on its own. “With no baby nursing, the milk production will stop by itself,” she had said in a very matter of fact way. “It can be rather uncomfortable, so sometimes it helps to bind them with an ACE bandage. Any questions?” She looked up from her list of topics to go over with new mothers, peering at Annie over the half-glasses that were perched on the end of her nose. She seemed perplexed to see Annie staring back at her with a horrified expression on her face. The nurse shook her head and smiled, “Oh honey -- don’t worry about it -- you’ll be just fine. It’s just what happens if you decide not to breast feed, which by the way, is the best thing to do for your baby. So, let’s see -- what’s next here? Oh yes --” she looked up at Annie, “what type of formula will you be feeding your baby?”

“My baby died,” Annie said softly. She gazed out the window at white fluffy clouds on a background of brilliant blue sky. She swore the clouds were taking the shape of a baby sleeping on its tummy. She blinked hard and looked again only to find it was gone.

“What was that, hon?” the nurse asked distractedly as she organized her paperwork.

Suddenly she stopped, her head snapping up to look at Annie. “Oh my God -- you had the stillborn, didn’t you? Oh dear - I am so sorry! Oh, you poor thing - I am so sorry! I’ll - I’ll be right back.” She scurried out of the room.

Annie just sat there, feeling guilty for ruining the woman’s day. She caught a glimpse of her out at the nurse’s station, talking excitedly, wringing her hands as she spoke to the other nurses. At one point they all turned and looked toward Annie’s room and shook their heads sadly. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her and yet somehow she could. Nothing would surprise her ever again. She and Eric just had the ultimate surprise -- nothing she could think of could top it.

Eric’s somber voice brought her back to the moment. “He’s my baby too, Annie. I know how you feel --”

Annie’s words pounced on him. “You don’t know how I feel! You don’t know! Do you feel empty inside? Are you filling up with milk that has nowhere to go? Are you the one who failed?” She stood there, almost daring him to contradict her. Then she saw how dejected and confused he looked and sighed heavily. She walked over to him and put her arms around him. She laid her head on his chest. He in turn wrapped his arms around her gingerly, as though she might break so as not to cause her any more pain.

“Yes, Eric. He was your baby too.”

They stood there together for a few more minutes, looking at the little white casket and then very slowly and gently, Eric guided Annie toward the car. There, on the other side of the street, she saw the blonde in the black dress, wave good-bye as she drove away.