a heart that’s full up like a landfill

firstly

In a sonographer’s rooms, J is with me, so is Mum.
The sonographer sweeps the transducer across my belly.
“Is this a planned pregnancy?”
“No, not really but wanted. Why?”
“I can see two babies’ heartbeats instead of one”
I burst into tears.
J roars with laughter.
secondly
In the operating theatre, on the table. Epidural administered, stomach bare, waiting.
J at my side, holding my hand.
first baby is delivered, red & crying. Wrapped & held, brought to my side.
The obstetrician’s voice floats in the air.
“Rebecca, I can’t find your second baby.”
Minutes tick by. A strange emptiness surrounds me.
His voice again.
“Rebecca, your second baby is not alive.”
The room begins to buzz.
“Sorry?”
(in my head – He’s joking. He’s got to be joking. This is a trick.)
Again.
“Rebecca, your second baby is not alive.”
Buzzing in my ears.
Nothing.
A gap.
J is panicking. He’s trying to ask me what to do.
“Shall I stay with you? Shall I go with our baby?”
The first baby, he needs weighing, measuring, suctioning.
I look up at the ceiling.
“Go with the baby.”
The midwife is holding our second baby.
He’s small and red and silent.
He’s wrapped.
I see his face.
The room is buzzing.
I am somewhere else.
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2 thoughts on “a heart that’s full up like a landfill

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