Page 181 of Unspoken Words
“Now, if you’d like.”
*
I heldthe door opento Ellie’s room, and we pushed the crib inside
Beth shot out of her seat, an expression of shock and delight on her face. “Oh my goodness! What—”
“And here’s Mummy,” I said, finishing my guided tour of the ward.
The two patient-transporter clerks set the crib next to Ellie’s bed.
“What is she doing here? Is this permanent?” Beth flocked to the crib like a seagull to a chip. “Hello, Nanna’s beautiful girl. Have you come to see Mummy?”
Roger and Chris also flocked to my daughter, so while they quite rightly cooed, I moved to the other side of Ellie’s bed and took her hand in mine. “Baby, someone has come to see you.”
Ellie didn’t respond, her body perfectly still and perfectly peaceful, a sight that would put sleeping beauty to shame. Her hair fanned like flames over her pillow, and I could tell Beth had brushed it while I was at the NICU. She’d also painted her nails pink, leaving one bare on each hand, which made me curious. I didn’t query it though. Tending to Ellie—even if it was for small cosmetic things—I guess, helped Beth feel she wasn’t completely useless—something I understood well.
Laying Ellie’s hand on top of the crib, I waited and held my breath, a part of me hoping she’d open her eyes like some kind of fairy tale. Of course I knew the chances of that happening were pretty much zero yet, nowadays, I wasn’t above hoping and praying for better odds. I’d done a lot of it in recent times and, so far, it was working.
Trailing my finger across the bridge of Ellie’s nose, I counted her freckles and then closed my eyes, tears stinging as I pressed them away. All I wanted was for her to wake up and meet Christina, if only for a minute. I’d give anything for that to happen. And it would, I knew it would. I just … I couldn’t handle the waiting.
Ellie had suffered another cardiac arrest after disappearing behind the heavy, silver doors en route to theatre. They’d resuscitated her and performed an emergency C-Section, safely delivering Christina. Up until yesterday, Ellie was in an induced coma, but they’d slowly weened her off sedation, and it was just a matter of time before she woke up.
Reaching for the bedside drawer, I opened it in search of a tissue but found the pink notebook Ellie had made me promise to give to our daughter. I took hold of it and sat back, opening it to the very first page.
Girls are the best,
chuck out the rest.
I laughed and turned to the next page.
Christina Bethany-Ella Bourke, you are named after your awesome mother, Nanna, and, sometimes awesome, uncle—an extra little piece of us I wanted you to always have with you.
But you areyouand nobody else.
Strong, beautiful, and forged from insurmountable love your father and I have for each other.
I let out a sob and fisted my hand, resting it on my lips.Ellie. My beautiful, smart, Ellie.
Sadly, love doesn’t conquer all, which is why I’m writing this notebook for you.
Love doesn’t prevent death, but it does nurture the pain death brings.
Death is awaiting me, my precious girl. It hides in the shadows and has been awaiting me for quite some time. I guess it awaits us all—the only certainty we have in life. But, unlike so many, death has kindly given me a heads-up. And as I write this, I somehow know I won’t see you become the intelligent, amazing woman I’ve no doubt you’ll be.
I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could share every milestone, every birthday, every smile, and every tear. And I will, in a way, just not the way we all deserve.
And that’s why I’ve written this notebook.
Your father (and probably uncle and grandparents) will tell you I’ve always had something to say, so this is my way of speaking my unspoken words to you.
Here we go.
My hand trembled as I tried to turn the next page, but I couldn’t. She’d known her heart would fail again. Except, she’d thought it would fail for good.
Bursting into tears, I stood up and walked to the window, my back turned to Beth, Roger, and Chris, the notebook dangling from my hand.
“Connor, darling, is everything all right?” Beth asked.
