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Agirl.I’mhaving a beautiful little girl! My heart pounds as I climb into the passenger seat of Mac’s car. He’s been great. A little too much, so. He has been to every single one of my appointments, and the doctor constantly mistakes him for the baby’s father.
He is there for me, and I need it terribly. The pregnancy has kept my mind off things greatly, and now that we know it’s a girl, I can get started on her nursery.I wonder if she’ll have Colby’s blue eyes and my brown hair.
“I’m starving,” I whine, rubbing my growing belly after I buckle my seatbelt. I’m definitely showing now and enjoying it before I get to the stage where I feel like a whale.
Mac grumbles and pulls out of the hospital parking lot. “You’re always hungry. You’re lucky you’re feeding my niece. What do you want?”
I lick my lips. “Italian. You’re the best uncle she could have.”
“Do you have any names picked out?” He pulls onto the freeway.
“Nope, I’ll probably name her after my most craved food–breadsticks.”
Mac laughs as he navigates the traffic. He weaves in and out like a pro. I’ve always been prone to crashing cars, so I am thankful Mac drives me everywhere. He is the overprotective uncle already, and it comes as no surprise, since he is an overprotective big brother as well.
He plays the role so well that normally he annoys the shit out of me. He always has, from the time I could talk. I complain about it, and we butt heads, but I know that it is from a place of love. He was the man of the house, and I was the baby girl.
Mac takes his eyes off the road. There’s a grin on his face. “Grissino.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “I’m not naming her the Italian word for…”
Mac turns his attention back to the road. The smile wipes from his face as he glances in the rear-view mirror. He stiffens, and his arm goes out in front of my chest as if he is trying to hold me in place. And before I have time to process anything, I feel it. The car jerks left, and he turns the wheel right. My head snaps to the side as the car does a flip, and we land upside down in the middle of the freeway.
Everything moves so slowly. The glass shatters when the car lands and Mac’s head hits the steering wheel. He’s passed out, head laying on the horn. It blares through the air, deafening my ears.
My heart is racing as I process what happened. How I haven’t blacked out, I don’t know, because my head hurts and I’m sure I hit the dash at some point. I see lights flashing in the rear-view mirror. A sudden pain in my stomach makes me cry out. “Mac!” I reach over and push him as best I can. But he doesn’t budge. “Mac,” his name comes out on a broken sob. Blood falls from his head, and I shake him over and over. “Wake-”
My breath catches as I feel the blood between my legs, and I know what’s happening. I try to release my seatbelt, but it’s jammed. Seconds feel like long, agonizing minutes. The walls are closing in on me.
A police officer hurries to my side of the car. Blood rushes to my head and the pressure of my seat belt is digging into my belly. “My baby.”
“Ma’am? Is it just the two of you in the car?” The officer asks. Blood drips from his forehead. He was in the accident, too.
There’s another pain, and instinctively I know it’s a contraction. No. It’s too early to go into labor. The baby won’t make it. “My baby,” I groan through the pain. “It’s too soon. She won’t make it.”
“Andi?” Mac’s head lifts to face me, and he presses his hand to my shoulder. Glancing at my legs, I see the look of pity wash over him. “Andi, I’m so sorry.”
Giving birth to a baby that won’t survive is horrible.
Holding her, looking at her, and realizing it’s the end, knowing that she’d never know her father… it broke me in two. My chest cracked, and it didn’t seem like it would ever be put back together again. I sobbed for days, and those days turned to weeks.And just when I felt like maybe, today would be the day I’d feel better again. That I’d be able to climb out of bed and face the world, it happened. My period came and reminded me that I didn’t have her anymore.
Mac only suffered a concussion, but we are both lucky we survived the accident. Well, he was lucky. Me? I want to be buried with my baby.
Mac knocks at my bedroom door and opens it before I tell him to come in. He scrunches his nose as he enters, inhaling the smell that confirms I haven’t showered in five weeks.
Thirty-five days ago, my little girl was growing inside my belly.
“Andi,” Mac says soothingly, as he approaches with some soup in a mug.
My fucking baby died. I don’t have the flu, for fuck’s sake. “Not hungry,” I mutter as he sets it on my nightstand.
“You have to eat, Andi.”
Thirty-five days ago, I sobbed as I pushed out a one pound, one ounce sleeping baby that didn’t stand a chance of survival. I begged them to keep her in. Just a few more days and she could have made it. But there was nothing they could do. That’s what happens when your placenta erupts. No chance, no matter how big the baby is, delivery has to happen immediately. If she’d been bigger, she’d have been born alive, and then they could have tried to save her.
“Tell me what happened.” I was conscious during the entire accident, but I’ve blocked out the memory. Mac blacked out, but he remembers so much of it.
“I don’t think you’re ready to hear.” Every day it’s the same. I ask what happened, and he tells me I’m not ready to hear it.
