Page 85 of Vex

“We’re not sure yet, Taja. We’ve got your bleeding stopped, but you lost quite a bit of blood and we’ve not been able to locate a heartbeat. We’re taking you into surgery now.”

I hear the words, but they’re not sinking in. I know what the doctor said, but my brain is refusing to allow them to make sense. I drop my forehead to the pillow next to Taja’s and press our heads together. Still gripping her hand, I stay close to my girl. The doctors and nurses get busy and in a few minutes we’re on the move again.

I’m surprised when I’m allowed to scrub in and sit near Taja’s head during the C-section. As much as I hate why I’m here, I wouldn’t be anywhere else but close to Taja.

Stroking her hair off her face, I see her staring sightlessly at the ceiling. No emotion on her face, nothing showing in her eyes. She looks like a beautiful corpse and even that thought makes me feel panic.

Moving slightly to the side of her head, I squeeze her hand.

“Taja? Look at me, baby,” I order softly.

No reaction whatsoever.

“Taj? Please, honey, look at me. I need you to focus on me,” I try again.

Slowly her eyes meet mine, but they’re blank. It’s like her soul has been ripped from her body, and I’m left with a shell. No tears, no sobbing, nothing.

I place my forehead on hers. I hold tight to her hand while my other one cups the side of her face. I stay that way during the entire ordeal. I tune out the doctor and nurses’ voices and focus all my energy on Taja.

When it’s almost over, I look up and see them placing a perfectly formed, tiny little boy into an incubator, and I feel hope for the first time. I can’t see him now with the medical staff in the way, but I hold my breath waiting for that first cry. While that’s happening, the doctor finishes up on Taja.

I finally have to breathe, and yet I don’t want to. There still hasn’t been a sound from the baby, and I see the truth on the staff’s faces. It was not meant to be. I feel my body shut down against what I know the doctor’s going to say.

“I’m so sorry. Your little boy didn’t make it. He wasn’t developed enough yet to survive outside the womb. The nurses will bring him to you in a few moments if you’d like to hold him.”

I nod my head once and ease back so the nurses can finish up with Taja. Once that’s done, we’re moved to a nearby room. Taja’s bed is propped up so she’s in a comfortable position. She still hasn’t spoken a word, and her face is still blank. I don’t know how to comfort her, or myself, at this gut-wrenching time. I just stay close, and she clings to my hand like it’s the only thing keeping her on earth.

A short time later, a nurse walks in, cradling our dead child in her arms. Taja reaches out immediately and accepts our baby. Pulling the blanket back a little we both lay eyes on the most perfect, miniature face ever created. He’s so tiny and so beautiful. Without making a sound, I watch tears fall from Taja’s eyes onto our child. It’s something I never want to see again. A mother grieving over a child lost to them forever. Reaching down, I brush my finger over little baby Dagen’s head. Even knowing he’s gone, his cold body is a shock. He looks like he’s sleeping, and I wish to God that were the truth.

After our time with our baby, the nurse returns and takes him away forever. Taja collapses against me, and sobs erupt from deep inside her. They’re painful to hear. I lay beside her on the bed and hold her tight. I fight my own tears, wanting to be strong for her, but it’s killing me. After a long time of trying to expel her grief, exhaustion sets in, and Taja falls to sleep.

I hear the door open quietly and look to see Tessie standing there. One look at us and her face crumbles. I ease off the bed and walk to her. Wrapping my arms around her, I let her cry it out while I explain what happened. When she gains control of herself, I ask her to stay with Taja so I can speak with the family that I know will be waiting to hear what’s happened.

I walk into the waiting room to find it overflowing with family. Pooh reaches my side first, and I know by his face he knows I have bad news. Gripping my arm, he waits.

“Taja’s fine. Health wise, she’ll be okay. The baby didn’t survive. Um, uh, the doctors said something about IUGR and problems with the placenta. Sorry, I’m not even sure what that all means. They had to do an emergency C-section, but the baby wasn’t developed enough to survive it,” I explain in a quiet rasp. “He was so fucking beautiful though.”

Lucy’s tiny body collides with mine and she holds on tight, sobbing. Pooh wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me steady. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have hit the floor if it wasn’t for those two. In time, I get hugs and sorrys from everyone gathered here to support Taja and me. This has been the worst night of my life, but at least I’m surrounded by those who care.

Tessie and I stay by Taja’s side right up until she’s discharged. Both women have been quiet and withdrawn but leaning on each other. I’m not faring any better. We’re a unit, a family, and this has been hell for each of us.

Leaving the hospital, Freddy’s waiting out front in Bailey’s SUV to give us a ride home. Upon arriving there, we find the fridge stocked and numerous bouquets of flowers placed around the main floor. We also find Duffy waiting on the deck. Tessie picks him up, before Taja could, and carries him inside. Setting him down, he stalks over to the couch, jumps up on it and turns to face Taja. She carefully sits down next to him and he settles his considerable body weight against the side of her thighs. I watch Taja’s hand land softly on Duffy and start stroking. Maybe he’ll be a comfort to her.

At the end of the week, we held a small service for our baby, Joshua Dagen. Only family and close friends were invited. It was a beautiful and quiet service. My mom showed in time for it, and she came alone. Taja invited her to stay with us for a few days, and she readily agreed much to my surprise. I’m happy she’s here, though.

We laid baby Joshua to rest next to Taja’s mom. We know without a doubt she’ll look over our little angel for us. Taja stood strong throughout the day with Tessie on one side, me on the other. She even gave a small smile when she held her arms out and Axel placed little Alex in them. I was worried it would be too much for her, holding another baby so soon, but she’s stronger than that. Spine of steel.

Taja and I haven’t talked much about all that’s happened, but she hasn’t pulled away from me in her grief either. Instead, we’ve quietly grown closer. While she doesn’t say much, her actions speak volumes. She stays close to me and doesn’t shy away from clinging to me when the tears come. I’m not ashamed of them either and don’t hide mine from her. We hold tight and ride the waves of grief together. We’ll get through this and be stronger because of it. Time won’t heal this wound but it’ll dull the rough edges of it eventually.

Chapter 29

Taja

Physically, I’ve healed. Mentally, I’m not sure I ever will. I know the pain will lessen eventually, but there will always be this horrible feeling of loss. The pain of watching Vex cradle his baby so tenderly about stopped my beating heart. The grief etched on his beautiful face was almost too much to bear. Being cheated from experiencing all of our baby’s life’s moments. Learning to walk, going to school for his first day, learning to ride a bike. I try hard not to dwell on those things because it guts me when I do. Of course, I’ll never forget his tiny, perfect features and what could have been, but I have to move forward and stay strong. Not just for me but for Vex and Tessie too. They’re grieving just as hard, but we’re doing it as a family.

Subconsciously, I blame myself. I know I shouldn’t, and I know what happened wasn’t my fault, but it’s hard not to. I lived and he didn’t. Survivor’s guilt, maybe? I’m not sure of anything except that I need my mom more than ever before. But she’s gone, and I’m supposed to be the mother now, but I’m not. Guilt is a heavy weight to carry.

Each day, I climb out of bed and face the day. I want to stay curled up in a ball and hide from the world, but I don’t. I push forward and when a bad moment hits me, I cling to Vex and his strength. Instead of tearing our new relationship apart, it’s brought us incredibly closer. We’re connected through love and tragedy, and I firmly believe nothing can tear us apart. He’s been there with me through every tear, every bit of rage at the world and even my doubt in God. He’s been strong for me, but we’re stronger together. And that’s the way we’ll stay.

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