A second chance.
That was what I wished for.
The one thing I prayed for every night before I sleep. The one thing I prayed for, at the very night before I woke up in an entirely different life.
A new life.
My second chance.
❈❈❈
I was 30 years old wh...
Caressing her hair and her back gently, I murmured softly to her, "Everything is going to be alright, sweetheart." And I could feel her first sob as she finally broke down to tears in my arms.
"Sshh—we're going to be alright. It's okay," I kept telling her, although a part of me felt like I was trying to console myself more than I did her. Quickly noticing that I was completely doing an unsuccessful job at it when doubt sneakily crept in.
Are we really going to be okay, though? I started questioning myself even as I held her tight and kept whispering words to console her, to let her release all her pain to me. How many times have I said those exact same words?
Do I even believe every word of it still?
While I was questioning my own feelings and giving in to doubts, completely unsure of what I was supposed to do to actually make it so everything would be alright, she was holding on to me so tight with her hands clutching desperately on my back as if I was the last piece of thread holding her together. All while completely careless of the needles that were still attached to her arms. Perhaps the pain on her skin was nothing compared to what she felt, I figured. So I just stayed still in her arms and held her tighter.
"It's okay, baby," I kept whispering to her as she was sobbing and shaking in my hold. "It will be okay."
I had no idea if any of those words had actually worked at all in consoling her. All I knew was that they failed in consoling me.
As minutes passed by, I felt her slowly calming down. Relief swarmed all over me as I felt her slowly loosening her hold and started falling asleep. Not for knowing that she would finally be okay, but because I could finally stop pretending to be strong for her. Although none of it seemed to matter in the end as I laid her gently back onto the hospital bed. All that mattered was that the only apprehension I could find was knowing that the more she cried, the more resolved she became, the more I became numb.
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I left my wife at the hospital after she had fallen asleep.
The doctors wanted her to stay for the night for further observation. Not that I had no clue of what was to come next—doctor's observations, physical recovery, therapy, complete bedrest until her mind and body would heal from the pregnancy loss, and many sleepless nights with tears and consoling until life returned to how it used to be before the failed pregnancy, then weeks came months until we started planning again.
It had always been the same. And so far, nothing yet had changed.
Once I had made sure that she would be in good care of the hospital, I decided to leave for the office. Although I had to face a little obstacle before I could even step out of the room.
Right as I was making my way out the door, my parents had arrived. My mother rushed quickly to be on her side, forever caring for her beloved daughter-in-law while my father pulled me aside. The disapproval on his face when I told him that I had to leave her was not lost.
