Hush Little Baby

A flash of bright blood appears. Just like any normal month. The most primal need; yet something continually beyond her reach. She’s screaming inside but nobody hears her moans. Seeing a pregnant, glowing woman each day – boasting that beautiful, swollen belly for the entire world to see. It’s like a kick in the teeth; or empty womb, rather. The nappy ads on TV. The strollers. The ‘Baby on Board’ car window signs. The children’s birthday party invitations. The assumptions people make; she’s selfish, or just doesn’t want kids. (Little do they know). She can’t escape. It feels like a cruel joke. It’s suffocating. Her bones ache. Her heart yearns. Her head throbs. Her hands tremble. Every birthday. Every Christmas. Time passes but nothing changes. She waits. She waits. And she waits… What will ever numb this devastating grief?

She pees on that tedious little stick for the umpteenth time; anxiously awaiting those two blue bars to appear. She dreads the time of the month. It’s like a lottery; will she win or will she lose? She prays. She chants her Buddhist prayers. She hugs her ‘fur baby’ Poodle. (Even he looks fraught). And she waits. Again. Until hooray! She’s really pregnant! But of course, joy is fleeting. She miscarries. Painfully. On the kitchen bench, to be precise. She hates this worthless body of hers. Internal turmoil continues; silence prevails.

So the couple try IVF. And what a relief it is. To start with, anyway… Despite the endless prodding … the poking … the procedures … the implantation … the acupuncture. It’s all encompassing. She is obsessed. She has become possessed. Yet no one knows. Silence continues. The secret appointments. The fleeting smiles. The hushed phone calls. Yet the couple remain optimistic. Even the injections are an adrenalin rush. Nothing can stop them now! Only to be greeted by that retched blood again in the toilet yet again.

Somehow they pick themselves up. And they wait… wait… wait… for months. Until one day, there’s real hope. She’s actually pregnant! The couple are ecstatic. They see their little bean dancing on the screen. She treats her body and her baby as a shrine. They even go on holiday. Risk flying, but they feel confident. They return to have their standard check up. But of course, it’s too good to be true. The doctor anxiously searches for the heartbeat. It’s eerily quiet. The couple stare at the screen knowing their baby has left this world. The normally verbose doctor who normally whistles down the halls is rendered utterly speechless. Tears spike his eyes. The once expectant mother howls, screaming, running out of the building like a crazed mad woman, her heart ripped out, leaving a gaping hole. People watch on, but still, no one knows…

She is so tired; tired of the crying, tired of the trying, tired of feeling like a science experiment. Another operation follows. A baby boy, he was. I wonder what he would have been named? Again, they grieve. And again, they wait. It’s relentless. Yet no on knows. And they continue to suffer in silence…

They pause. They heal. Decide on one last attempt. And they don’t lose faith. And at last, after all the sorrow and the grief and the pain and the appointments and the poking and the injections a miracle happens … and their lives are changed forever for the better. A beautiful baby girl is growing inside her. The couple weep in each other’s arms. Their baby girl is healthy. She is perfect. She is theirs. The mother feels her dancing in her belly. She feels empowered. Alive. Complete. And finally, she feels like a REAL woman.