Page 134 of Nineteen Letters
We wanted this child because it was a product of our love.
The next day, we went back in to see the doctor. He gave us our options, but we assured him we wanted this baby, so he booked you in for an ultrasound later that afternoon to find out how far along you were.
You were almost seven weeks. They even gave us a small printout of the fetus, which was more like a tiny dot at that stage. There was a huge smile on your face as you stared at that image all the way home.
We decided to keep the news between us for a while, as we adjusted to the thought of becoming parents. I startedlooking around for weekend work because we were going to need the extra money.
Five days later, you woke me in the middle of the night. “Braxton, I don’t feel so good. I have bad cramps in my stomach.”
I sat up, turning on the lamp beside my bed. “What do you mean, you have cramps? Is that normal?”
“No. I think I need to go to the hospital.”
I jumped up in a panic and threw on a T-shirt and some sweatpants before moving to your side of the bed. When I pulled back the covers to help you up, I froze when I saw you were lying in a pool of blood.
I scooped you into my arms and practically ran to the car. You moaned loudly as I placed you down gently in the passenger seat. “You’re going to be okay, Jem,” I said. “I’ve got you.”
I tried to remain strong, but inside I was anything but. All I could think about was my mum, and how she’d gone to the hospital and never returned. I was scared for our baby, but I was terrified I was going to lose you.
When we arrived at the emergency department, they performed another ultrasound, and then gave us the devastating news: you had miscarried. An hour later, theywheeled you down the long corridor, towards the operating theatre for a curette.
I held myself together right until the very end, but the moment you disappeared through those doors, I completely broke down.
The next day, the doctor discharged you. You didn’t speak a single word from the time you woke that morning, nor on the drive home. I was so concerned. It was like a part of you had died along with our child. In a way, I guess it had.
You didn’t even protest when I carried you from the car into the house. There was no fight left in you, which only worried me more.
When we reached the bathroom, I helped you undress, then turned on the shower. I left you in there while I stripped and remade the bed. I put your bloodied pyjamas and the sheets straight into the washing machine.
You were out of the shower by the time I came back, so I helped dry you before slipping a nightgown over your head. I pulled back the covers on our bed, and you climbed in. You still hadn’t spoken a word, and I didn’t know what to say to you.
“Is there anything I can get you, Jem?”
“No,” you whispered.
I sat down on the side of the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It was a stupid question, of course you weren’t.
You just shook your head, and as soon as I saw the tears rise to your eyes, I pulled my T-shirt over my head, slipped out of my sweats and climbed in beside you.
I pulled you into my arms. “When you’re ready, we can try again.”
The moment those words were out of my mouth, you began to sob. It made my already broken heart break a little more.
We stayed in bed for the rest of the day. We cried, we talked, and we cried some more. We shed tears for our loss, and for our child. For the first breath they would never take. For the long, full life they would never get to live. For the undying love we had to offer, that they’d never get to feel.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
Chapter 36
Jemma
Tears trickle down my face as I sit on the edge of my bed and stare down at the small black blob on the ultrasound image in my hand.The picture of my baby, … our baby.I hate that I can’t remember this.
There’s a tightness in my chest, and the loss I’m feeling right now is heartbreakingly painful.
