paper.
Quickly grabbing a pad, I freshened up and picked up my phone to call Brent—scared shitless. I shouldn’t be having my period and spotting should not be happening. We had just had an appointment three weeks ago and everything was fine.
The phone rang several times, finally going into his voicemail. Patiently, I listened to his familiar greeting and then left a message.
“Brent…uh, I need you to call me as soon as you can.” I could hear the distress in my own voice. “I’m okay, but…just call when you get this.”
I hung up the phone and raced back to my room. Shuffling through my purse, I found the business card to my doctor’s office. It took me what felt like an eternity to steady my fingers enough to dial the number.
It only rang once, going into voicemail saying that the office was closed for lunch. The last part of their message stated that if it was an emergency, I needed to hang up and dial 911. Throwing the phone onto my bed, I flew back into the bathroom to see if there was any more blood.
There wasn’t.
It was clean.
Something was wrong, though. I knew it in the most unfathomable part of my soul.
I headed back to my room again, picking up my pace when I heard my phone ringing.
Answering on the last ring, I panted, “Hello.”
“Ruby?” Brent asked frantically, “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Tears of fear erupted. “I…I’m bleeding.”
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“I…I mean, I think there’s something wrong with the baby.”
“I’ll be right there. I’m coming right now.”
He hung up the phone and I met him the lobby of my dorm when he arrived about five minutes later. I cried into his shoulder for quite some time, until he was able to calm me enough with his soothing words.”
“It’s okay,” he consoled, stroking my hair. “It’s probably nothing.”
Leading me out of the building, Brent then hailed a cab and we took a ride to the hospital to make sure. When we arrived at the emergency room they weren’t able to take us back immediately, so we had to wait.
There were no words, just constant tears—tears with no comfort. Tears wrapped in anticipation.
About an hour later, we were finally called back to be seen.
I lied back on the cold, paper-covered bed.
The vinyl cushion was yellow.
The nurse pulled out the ultrasound machine.
She squirted the gel on my stomach and moved the wand around, finding our baby. I recognized the shape of our child instantly.
No words were said.
The room echoed with silence—screaming no sounds.
There was no movement. The familiar flicker within the chest of my child wasn’t there.
There was nothing.
“I’ll be right back,” I faintly heard the nurse say as the ultrasound screen went black.
Nothing.
I had no weight.
Over .
The world didn’t exist.
I was floating out of time, dropping into a cavern of nothing. Where was I?
The air was stale.
My soul bubbled with pain.
We—I lost the baby.
~Present~
The phone wails in the background. Tears are streaming down into the creases of my mouth. Blinking a few times, the image of the baby, my baby , within the ultrasound picture comes back into focus. My ringtone gets louder as my thoughts drift further away from that awful instant in time where everything sank into a dark abyss. It was the beginning of my, and Brent’s, undoing.
The ringing finally stops and I wipe the strands of tear-soaked hair from my cheeks. Setting the image on the floor, I finger my forehead and regard my slightly bulging stomach from long ago. I’ve said goodbye so many times, but the longing is something that can easily come back. It’s never easy to lose someone or something you wanted so badly. Maybe even more than you realized at the time. I lost three people that day. My child, myself, and even though it didn’t seem like it…I lost Brent, too.
Acutely, I hear my phone start to ring again. Rising from the floor, I shuffle to where it
Quickly grabbing a pad, I freshened up and picked up my phone to call Brent—scared shitless. I shouldn’t be having my period and spotting should not be happening. We had just had an appointment three weeks ago and everything was fine.
The phone rang several times, finally going into his voicemail. Patiently, I listened to his familiar greeting and then left a message.
“Brent…uh, I need you to call me as soon as you can.” I could hear the distress in my own voice. “I’m okay, but…just call when you get this.”
I hung up the phone and raced back to my room. Shuffling through my purse, I found the business card to my doctor’s office. It took me what felt like an eternity to steady my fingers enough to dial the number.
It only rang once, going into voicemail saying that the office was closed for lunch. The last part of their message stated that if it was an emergency, I needed to hang up and dial 911. Throwing the phone onto my bed, I flew back into the bathroom to see if there was any more blood.
There wasn’t.
It was clean.
Something was wrong, though. I knew it in the most unfathomable part of my soul.
I headed back to my room again, picking up my pace when I heard my phone ringing.
Answering on the last ring, I panted, “Hello.”
“Ruby?” Brent asked frantically, “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Tears of fear erupted. “I…I’m bleeding.”
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“I…I mean, I think there’s something wrong with the baby.”
“I’ll be right there. I’m coming right now.”
He hung up the phone and I met him the lobby of my dorm when he arrived about five minutes later. I cried into his shoulder for quite some time, until he was able to calm me enough with his soothing words.”
“It’s okay,” he consoled, stroking my hair. “It’s probably nothing.”
Leading me out of the building, Brent then hailed a cab and we took a ride to the hospital to make sure. When we arrived at the emergency room they weren’t able to take us back immediately, so we had to wait.
There were no words, just constant tears—tears with no comfort. Tears wrapped in anticipation.
About an hour later, we were finally called back to be seen.
I lied back on the cold, paper-covered bed.
The vinyl cushion was yellow.
The nurse pulled out the ultrasound machine.
She squirted the gel on my stomach and moved the wand around, finding our baby. I recognized the shape of our child instantly.
No words were said.
The room echoed with silence—screaming no sounds.
There was no movement. The familiar flicker within the chest of my child wasn’t there.
There was nothing.
“I’ll be right back,” I faintly heard the nurse say as the ultrasound screen went black.
Nothing.
I had no weight.
Over .
The world didn’t exist.
I was floating out of time, dropping into a cavern of nothing. Where was I?
The air was stale.
My soul bubbled with pain.
We—I lost the baby.
~Present~
The phone wails in the background. Tears are streaming down into the creases of my mouth. Blinking a few times, the image of the baby, my baby , within the ultrasound picture comes back into focus. My ringtone gets louder as my thoughts drift further away from that awful instant in time where everything sank into a dark abyss. It was the beginning of my, and Brent’s, undoing.
The ringing finally stops and I wipe the strands of tear-soaked hair from my cheeks. Setting the image on the floor, I finger my forehead and regard my slightly bulging stomach from long ago. I’ve said goodbye so many times, but the longing is something that can easily come back. It’s never easy to lose someone or something you wanted so badly. Maybe even more than you realized at the time. I lost three people that day. My child, myself, and even though it didn’t seem like it…I lost Brent, too.
Acutely, I hear my phone start to ring again. Rising from the floor, I shuffle to where it
Similar Books
