Hazy Mornings

Fix you.

It’s terrible. It’s horrific. It’s every adjective that describes a bad situation. It’s not what we expected, but it was what we knew was possible. After all, it’s not the first time it’s happened. But it definitely hurts as much.

I was sitting in the quiet waiting room, waiting. What was I waiting for? Something. Anything. News that it was all a mistake. Good news. Something other than the inevitable. I needed to hear that everything was okay. That my wife was okay and the baby was healthy.

I only got half of my wish. Yes, my wife was okay, but the baby was everything but. In fact, there was no baby. It had started developing fine, but somewhere along the way there were complications and the baby stopped developing. Just like before. It was a deja vu I didn’t want to experience.

When the doctor came to tell me, I broke down in tears. I needed to see my wife. I needed to know she was okay because I knew that she wasn’t. I wasn’t.

The doctor made me wait though. I didn’t see her until an hour later when she was discharged. When I saw her, I just hugged her. My arms would protect her. I needed her to know that I was there.

Because I was. And I would fix this.

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