Quasim II: King Inferno (Season Four: Inferno Gods #2)

11. Blair

Blair

Past

Recommendation: Heaven By Beyonce

“Mama, can you give us one more push… we’re almost there,” the nurse held my hand as she blinked back tears, knowing the circumstances.

She usually went through this process knowing that there was almost always a beautiful baby waiting at the end of all this pain. The doctor would pull the baby out, wipe them off and remove the fluid from their mouth so they could let out a loud wail, letting us know they had made it earth side.

This wasn’t my reality.

At the end of this, they would hand me my baby and tell me to take my time. There would be no tears, nor a loud wail letting me know he made it earth side. His soul had been snatched away before his body could come into this world.

It was a mind fuck.

There were all the makings of a successful birth in this room. An IV in my hand, hospital gown with the back missing, and a bassinet waiting in the corner. None of it meant that my baby would ever take a breath. The little hospital-issued baby hat laying out on the scale taunted me as I squeezed my eyes shut and continued to push.

My chest felt tight as I continued to squeeze her hand, bearing down to get my son out of me. A part of me wanted him to remain inside for as long as he could. Delivering him would mean losing a piece of my heart that I would never get back.

No matter how much time passed or what I went on in life to do, I would always feel like a piece of me was missing and that was because it was.

My purpose.

My reason for breathing would forever be missing. No fresh memories of him peeing on me because I was too slow to get a diaper, or sleepless nights because he woke up more than once during the night. I would still have sleepless nights, but that was because those nights would be spent dreaming about a love I would never get to experience.

A life that I would forever mourn.

Instead of a birth certificate to take home and put in my top drawer with all of his important papers, I would have a death certificate.

A piece of paper reminding me that my son never lived long enough to hear his name. I felt them pull him out of me and I tossed my head back, trying to catch my breath while they spoke in hushed tones.

They were nervous.

Telling a first-time mother that her child passed in utero was never easy. I don’t care how many years you’ve been on the job. If you had empathy and a heart, you felt something for that person. All the nurses and doctors in this room didn’t see me as an insurance charge.

They saw me as a mother.

A grieving mother that would spend the rest of her life grieving a child she would never get to know. The doctor had all the other nurses, aside from the one that held my hand, leave the room. In his arms, he held my small bundle of joy.

He was careful, as if the baby was alive. I watched with tears spilling from my eyes as he sat down on the side of my bed, holding my baby. “Your baby may not be in your arms, but they will forever be in your heart. They felt your love with every beat of your heart and every breath you took for them. Their life, though brief, was deeply meaningful, and they will never be forgotten. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.”

I dreamed about this day since I found out that I was pregnant. Envisioned giving birth and then meeting my baby.

My entire world.

I fought so hard for him and still failed him all the same. Every time Tyshawn would strike me, I made sure it was never my stomach. I’ve taken all the blows for my boy and should have left sooner.

It was my fault that he wasn’t here.

The doctor gently put him in my arms, and I looked down at his tiny body. His small features were right in front of me. Tiny fingers and toes that I would never get to kiss and pretend to nibble on to hear a contagious little laugh that I couldn’t live without.

There were darkened marks where his eyebrows should have grown in once I was further along. He’d never have eyebrows, and it was because of me. My eyes clouded with tears as I sobbed while holding him, lifting him up and placing my lips to his forehead.

A familiar scent that would follow me through life washed over me. I’d always remember this scent, knowing I could never get it back.

The nurse and doctor left to give me privacy as I continued to sob. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry, baby,” I said between kisses on his small forehead.

My lips took up his entire forehead as I held him. I rocked in the bed with him in my arms like I wanted to the minute that he was born. The urge to remove my breast and feed him was so strong that it was like a vice grip on my thoughts.

I removed my breast and put him onto one of my nipples. Trembling, I stared at his lifeless body, not latching on like he would have had I left his father earlier.

The nurse walked back in, and she paused before taking a deep breath. She came over and gently got my nipple into his small mouth. “Every mama should know what it feels like to have their baby feed from them.”

With that, she quickly turned to leave as she swiped her tears away. I remained with my son on my breast for three hours, never wanting to give him up.

Never wanting to lose the feeling of him being close to me again. I knew the minute that he was gone, that I would never get this feeling again.