Page 186 of Unspoken Words
Ellie
Part of me knew whenI was pregnant that I wouldn’t live to see my daughter grow up. That I wouldn’t hold her hand on her first day of school or meet the first boy who’d break her heart. Call it a mother’s intuition, I don’t know, but all I could fathom each night, as I lie awake in my hospital bed, was that I’d felt a sense of undeniable love and fulfilment drenched with inexplicable loss. Joyandsadness. A purpose, but one I couldn’t quite figure out.
What I did know was that life, at the best of times, was unfair. The ultimate challenge. It was difficult and painful and, more often than not, a maze of dead ends and paths that led you right back to where you first started. Some people prospered over others, and when that happened, it was easy to feel cheated or that you’d lost or failed. The truth was, no one ever lost, and no one ever failed. Life was a string of achievements, whether great or small, and if you chose to look forward you moved forward. Always. You found your purpose again and again.
My purpose was Connor, from my beginning to my end, to show him life and how to live it, how to enjoy it and, most importantly, how to accept it. It was to show him light in the dark. That from Aaron came me, and from me, came Christina.
It was to show him how to live, and how to speak with or without words.
“You told me you loved me,” I said, nonchalantly, as I folded my nightie and poked it into my hospital bag.
“You heard that?” he asked, response just as indifferent.
“Yes, I did.”
Connor stepped into the bathroom of my hospital room and began collecting my toiletries while I continued to fold my clothing.
“I’m curious why you chose that moment to say it.”
“Because I wasn’t sure I’d get another chance.” He returned to the side of my bed and plonked what he’d gathered onto the mattress. “I still stand by them being just three meaningless words though.”
I tried not to smile. “Why?”
“Because they are.”
Turning to him, a t-shirt folded in my hands, I probed a little further. “Did you mean them when you said them?”
“Of course.”
“Then they weren’t meaningless, were they?”
He changed the subject, which didn’t surprise me. “Ellie, I’m not sure you coming home is a good idea.”
“What?” I wrenched up the zip on my bag, placed my hands on my hips, and turned to face him. “Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I want you home, more than anything, but I’m … I’m scared, baby. I’m scared you’ll—”
“Drop dead?” I stared him down.
“Yes!”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
“Then why are you insisting on leaving this place? It’s the safest place for you right now.”
Walking to the window, I gazed out over the hospital garden, the summer heat lightly radiating from the glass and warming my face. “Because I want to be out there. And I refuse to let my daughter go home without me. Connor, I’m not going to die here. I’ve done it twice already, I’m not doing it again.”
“But, Ellie—”
“No buts, McButthead.” I walked back to where he was standing and placed my hands on either side of this face. “It’s been two months. Christina is ready, and I’m ready to leave. I don’t know how much time I have left, so I don’t want to spend it here. I want to be a proper mum, a proper wife, and I want to be home for Christmas.”
Anguish swept across his pinched face, and I sensed he was internally wrestling with what he thought was right and what actually was right, so when he opened his mouth and said ‘okay’, I knew that no matter how terrifying or painful this was for him, his acceptance of the path we were on was growing.
And that gave me peace.
“Good.” I clapped my hands like a trained seal. “First thing I’m gonna do when I get home is put up a Christmas tree.”
“Yeah, that would be ano, Ellie.”
