Pieces of Us
Prologue
EMBER
Fifteen years ago
I lay in the hospital bed, feeling a mix of heartbreak and relief.
The monitors beep in a low constant rhythm while I lay and wait for the nurse to come in to update me, dreading what comes next.
The fluorescent lights in the ceiling are turned down, the window allowing natural light to flood in.
The walls are a soft cream color, with the TV mounted across from me.
Beside the TV is the patient whiteboard that has all of my information and patient goals.
“Have a healthy baby!” is checked off on the board.
Hearing the door open, I cringe as I lay in the bed.
Nurse Claire pulls the curtain back and confirms my fear with her next words.
“Now that the social worker is gone, we’ll get you moved onto the postpartum floor for tonight.
” She slides the blood pressure cuff onto my arm.
“If everything goes smoothly overnight, you’ll be discharged tomorrow.
” After sliding the cuff off, she logs into her computer and enters my vitals into my chart.
I sit there quietly, taking it all in and dreading that I’ll be surrounded by newborn cries and mothers singing soft lullabies.
My mom and Ensley, my childhood best friend, just left to go shower and nap now that the baby had arrived safely. I am supposed to be sleeping, beginning the journey of recovery after giving birth, but I can’t sleep. The heartbreak is drowning me.
The nurse walks to the sink in the room, washing her hands quietly, before heading toward the door.
I begin to panic. “Is there another place mothers can go, who aren’t taking their baby home?
” My eyes begin to blur, filling with tears.
“I know sometimes, if the baby passes, the hospital can put the family away from the cries and stuff.” I stammer, trying to will my seventeen-year-old self to make sense and not sound as weak as I feel.
Nurse Claire looks at me, a sequence of emotions passing across her face. “I can talk to the postpartum floor and see what we can do.”
I instantly feel a weight lift off my chest and blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I look up at her and meet her eyes, feeling weak.
Claire locks eyes gently with me, and it seems like she wants to say more.
I immediately feel heat rush to my face, and words are flowing out of me before I can stop them.
“I know it's not the same, and if it's me or another mom who is actually experiencing a loss…”
The nurse holds up her hand and cuts me off. “Ember, you are experiencing a loss—it's just one you chose.”
I look down at my clasped hands and feel the tears begin to slip down my cheeks. It hurts to hear, even though there is truth behind it.
“I didn’t mean for that to come out as harshly as it did, but I wanted you to remember that you chose this.
Because you know that at seventeen you can’t give him the life you know he deserves.
” Claire comes a little closer, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, drying her hands.
“I can’t imagine having to make that decision, and I will try my hardest to put you where you can begin recovering without the added mental warfare.
” She pats my leg and gives me a small smile before getting up and closing the door softly.
I lay my head down, facing toward the big window, and let the tears fall. Crying for the little boy I chose to give away.