Mims' Musings

Short Story of the Week- Eulogy

Posted on: 25/03/2011


Now that my Short Story coursework has been safely returned and moderated, I feel it’s safe enough to share them online. I’ll aim to put one up each week, please feel free to comment, whether it’s positive or negative I’m always trying to improve! Make sure you enter your email address in the top right so you don’t miss next week’s story =) Don’t forget you can also challenge me to write about anything, whether it’s factual or creative, just click on the ‘Challenge Me’ tab!

This story was written to the prompt “A Life in Brief”.

Eulogy

It would look like any other advert. Unused baby clothes, an anonymous seller, a few clicks and the deal is done. I bought them early on; I was so excited about her. Thinking of her future and all the things she could do. A soft baby-grow, a matching hat with little ears on it. It was her coming home outfit. I felt the soft material between my fingers, wondered what it would feel like to have her in my arms. People question if it’s possible to love someone before you meet them, at that moment I knew it was.

After three months she was meant to be out of the danger zone. The Mumsnet gang agreed. A week into the second trimester, everyone had been told. You were all so supportive. I took all the right vitamins, joined the pre-natal yoga class, played music to her, as my stomach grew so did my pile of books. Baby names, pregnancy diets, what to expect during birth. Nothing about loss.

At the third scan they confirmed she was a girl. Immediately I started thinking, Amelia, Miranda, Tara. Her silvery shaded form held so much potential. I couldn’t wait to meet her, to feel her warmth. I never did settle on a name. I decorated her room with her own galaxy of stars and meadow of flowers. I wanted her imagination to be unlimited.

In the last few months I started to count down the days. Each red cross on the calendar brought me closer to meeting my little girl. There was a party where you were all so generous, a deluge of clothes, toys and supplies. I never imagined that a feeling of such completeness would soon give way to an indescribable emptiness.

It happened in the thirty eighth week. My hospital bag was already packed. I hadn’t felt her move for a few days. I convinced myself she was storing energy for her birth. I went in for the check up and that’s when they told me. There was no heartbeat. I would never wish the pain of what followed on my greatest enemy. To go through the pain of labour knowing you will never hear your baby cry, never rock her to sleep, because she’s sleeping forever; it’s unbearable.

Today we’re meant to celebrate her life. I can’t thank you all enough for coming, but the truth is my baby didn’t really have a life, none of you got to meet her and I regret that deeply. They say that lives aren’t measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away. She may have never taken any breaths, but she took my breath away: when I first saw her in a scan, when I first felt her kick, and now every time I think about her. Some people argue that she was never truly alive. But I believe that she was, I loved her, for nine months. It was just all too brief.

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