The Weird Kid
Sunday, July 13, 2008
The End
Our nurse practitioner, Sandra keeps moving around the valley, and we follow because she is so nice and laughs at every joke we make like she had paid to hear them. In the last place she worked, her medical assistant was a neat plumpish girl who wore little rectangular frame glasses and was in love with Smudge. Named Wendy. She became pregnant about 9 months ago.
We were getting Smudge a check up half way through Wendy's pregnancy. She was four or five months along and showing. She looked sick. But still cheerful. She said it was weird that all of the sudden she'd started losing weight this far in. When she'd left the room Sandra said,
"This pregnancy mean so much to them. Did she ever tell you about her...first baby?"
She and her husband practiced co-sleeping with their baby. The baby was smothered. In her blankets, in bed with them one night. It was four months old, a boy.
We were shell-shocked the whole drive home. Thinking of that wonderful girl Wendy, thinking of waking up next to your baby's cold body. And how she got up every day now and went to work weighing sweet little naked babies on that grocery scale and putting Dora band-aids on their chubby legs after shots. The fortitude to pull yourself together and get back to your life.
And I said, "If Smudge died like that, it'd be over for us, wouldn't it? You'd never forgive me, even if it wasn't my fault." The thoughts weren't formed as I said them, they just came out, ready-made truths.
Sean was wordless, though he tried to talk. Eventually all he could say was, "I'm so sorry."
Like the time she pulled pepper spray out of my purse and sucked on it, burning her mouth. I was sobbing and immediately begging Sean for forgiveness. All he could say is, "Where were you?" I was there. I just didn't see it in time.
It'd be the end. I'd be on my own. The only thing Sean really asks of me is that I protect and love his daughter. For him, there are no extenuating circumstances.
We saw Sandra in her new office last week, I called to get directions from Wendy at the old office. I thought to ask after her baby but didn't. I just said it had been so nice having her in our life.
Sandra told us. When we'd seen Wendy all those months ago the baby was already dead inside her.
But Sandra said they're already ready to try again. It wasn't the end of them.
We were getting Smudge a check up half way through Wendy's pregnancy. She was four or five months along and showing. She looked sick. But still cheerful. She said it was weird that all of the sudden she'd started losing weight this far in. When she'd left the room Sandra said,
"This pregnancy mean so much to them. Did she ever tell you about her...first baby?"
She and her husband practiced co-sleeping with their baby. The baby was smothered. In her blankets, in bed with them one night. It was four months old, a boy.
We were shell-shocked the whole drive home. Thinking of that wonderful girl Wendy, thinking of waking up next to your baby's cold body. And how she got up every day now and went to work weighing sweet little naked babies on that grocery scale and putting Dora band-aids on their chubby legs after shots. The fortitude to pull yourself together and get back to your life.
And I said, "If Smudge died like that, it'd be over for us, wouldn't it? You'd never forgive me, even if it wasn't my fault." The thoughts weren't formed as I said them, they just came out, ready-made truths.
Sean was wordless, though he tried to talk. Eventually all he could say was, "I'm so sorry."
Like the time she pulled pepper spray out of my purse and sucked on it, burning her mouth. I was sobbing and immediately begging Sean for forgiveness. All he could say is, "Where were you?" I was there. I just didn't see it in time.
It'd be the end. I'd be on my own. The only thing Sean really asks of me is that I protect and love his daughter. For him, there are no extenuating circumstances.
We saw Sandra in her new office last week, I called to get directions from Wendy at the old office. I thought to ask after her baby but didn't. I just said it had been so nice having her in our life.
Sandra told us. When we'd seen Wendy all those months ago the baby was already dead inside her.
But Sandra said they're already ready to try again. It wasn't the end of them.
posted by Imez at 2:56 PM
1 Comments:
You are an awesome writer. Really really good. I love that and would like to link you at some point from BabyCenter if you're okay with that. Write me at BabyCenterAndrea@Yahoo.com or leave a message on my blog.
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