Jude Christopher Brahm,

I'm late.

I'm sorry.

Seriously, I'm so sorry.

I got sick, and I know I said I'd be here a week ago, but I just started feeling better yesterday and I didn't want to make you sick.

I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you.

Can I hide in your shadow for now? The nurse is gone, and I have all day.

I have all day to sit and listen and talk and think with you. All day to reminisce about things that happened and things I wished would have happened.

~ ~ ~

I was nineteen weeks pregnant that day. My closet was full of new clothes--maternity clothes--so I was no longer doomed to a life of frumpy sweaters and leggings.

(Though you often complimented the way I looked.)

The gender reveal scan was the next day, and we couldn't wait.

Our baby was going to have a title, finally. He, or she. And we would be able to start picking out names.

Sure, we already had a few; you liked Rose and Levi, and I liked Emery and Quillen. And then of course there were the middles--those difficult things we didn't even try to figure out yet, since it wasn't a sure thing that we'd need them.

"Are you excited?" you asked breathlessly, changing into soft pants to sleep in.

I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I am, actually." 

You grinned and walked over to capture me in a hug. "I want our kids to grow up understanding how much we love each other."

"They will," I said softly. "You leave no room for anyone to doubt that you love me, Jude dude. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried." You kissed my forehead. "But I just wanted to tell you, it's a priority to me. The whole world should see how much I love you."

"Mmm." I smiled and stood taller to kiss you softly. "And may the world see how much it is returned. Now let's get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day."

. . .

I woke up at midnight with pains. 

I didn't know what it was, but I was almost positive that there was something going on. Whether it was the baby or my stomach cramping from something I'd eaten, I wasn't sure.

Frowning, I crawled out of bed and crept to the bathroom, a long fist of pain stretching through my lower back.

I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, flicking the light on.

The light was blindingly white, and I frowned deeply at the brightness of it as I sat down at the toilet.

My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears as I tried to get done with what I had to do and go back to bed.

But the aching made me reluctant to move, and I was trying in vain to avoid every negative thought that flew into my head. I grimaced when I shifted and the sensation changed. The pains grew stronger than before, more persistent. 

Something was wrong.

Deep down, I was starting to realize what was going on, and it terrified me. It stole my breath and kicked my heart to the curb, and broke me.

I began shaking, slightly dizzy as the pain only continued to get worse. Unsteadily, I lowered myself from the toilet to the floor as the dizziness got worse.

I can't remember that happened right after that.

I must have blacked out.

. . .

When I came to, there was blood everywhere. It covered the floor, and it left no doubt in my mind of what was happening.

I was going to miscarry our baby on the bathroom floor, and I didn't know what to do. 

Strong pressure started deep inside of my abdomen as the pain grew stronger, and I began sobbing.

"No, no no..." I sobbed as more blood soaked my legs.

Why was this happening?

My voice was all choked, full of tears, but I needed you. I couldn't function without you. "Jude?"

The pressure increased, and I could feel everything. Fear latched onto my voice as I called for you again. "JUDE?"

I heard a loud thump and you stumbled to the doorway. Immediately, the color in your face disappeared. 

"Oh my god."

I cried harder. "I'm sorry."

You looked as though you couldn't breathe, "Oh my god, baby." And you disappeared.

I could hear you in the bedroom, knocking things over in a blind search, and then, your choked voice, "I think my wife is dying, please send an ambulance." And you gave them our address.

I could only cry.

You came back into the bathroom and knelt beside me, eyes somewhat wild. Like you didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do.

I sobbed as the pressure moved even further. 

The floor looked like a murder scene.

"Oh my god," you whispered, pale. Your eyes were red, your cheeks wet. "Oh my god, Aurora. Can I..."

I sobbed.

And then, it happened.

Our daughter came into this world silently, alive, perfect, but too young. Too tiny. Her lungs... they weren't made for breathing yet. 

Not yet.

I picked her up and held her against the bare skin over my heart, crying too hard to even notice that you were crying, too. 

And there was nothing I could do.

There was absolutely nothing I could do to save her.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. Whether to her or me I wasn't sure.

She was perfect. She was so perfect. 

I felt her heartbeat against mine for a little over ten minutes before she stopped breathing.

And you... you didn't stop crying.

The sirens came into hearing range and got louder, but I didn't move.

The paramedics came, and I think Mom must have gotten the door, because she was the one who came running into the room with them.

I couldn't let myself feel any more pain as she started crying, too, even though her crying would normally make me cry more.

"What is your name? What happened? Can you walk to the stretcher?"

Their questions bombarded me.

I only wanted to hold my baby for a while longer and cry.

Her life was so short, her experience so unkind.

She was blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh and I felt her last heartbeat against my own heart, and how does one survive something like that?

But you... you were my guardian angel. You swooped in and answered them for me, trying to catch your breath, trying not to start sobbing again.

I closed my eyes against it all and held my daughter.

Someone picked me up and set me on a stretcher, and the night floated away as my head seemed to become weightless.

I had never seen as much blood as there was on the floor of that bathroom.

. . .

I woke up slowly and painfully, with strong cramps in my abdomen and a dryness in my mouth. There was a beeping in my ears that wouldn't go away, and it made me remember.

It made me remember everything.

I blinked, turning my head.

There you were, face tucked into your hands, blood on your t-shirt, hair looking as though you had run your hands through it hundreds of times.

"Jude," I whimpered. Your name was always my first word when I felt something, be it joy, hunger, excitement, or pain.

You lifted your head and smiled brokenly at me. "I'm here." 

I took a slow breath, head pounding. "We lost her," I whispered. "Everything was fine, and now she's gone."

You teared up, and nodded a little bit. "Yeah."

I breathed for a moment, throat raw. Considering. Remembering. Summoning back the feelings that had been saturated in the moments before I blacked out.

When I finally said more, my voice was only a whimper. "I just wish she could have been born in the hospital... they might have been able to save her."

You grimaced as one tear escaped, but you rubbed it away with the back of your hand. "I'm so sorry."

I closed my eyes, chest shuddering with a small sob. Our daughter. My baby. Part of me, part of you. Altogether gone and nothing left.

Nothing left.

"I'm so sorry, baby," you whispered. "I am so sorry."

I swallowed, tears running from the corners of my eyes down my temples and into my hair. I didn't care about much in wake of my pain, but I did care about you. "Did you get to see her?"

"Yeah," you breathed. "She was perfect. Her hair was curly, like yours."

I sobbed freely. "Did you get to hold her?"

You nodded a little, swallowing hard. "She was so tiny."

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe. "What... what happened to her?"

"They let me make her footprints in ink. And then they took her away. She's going to be buried in a plot in the cemetery near your parent's house."

I almost choked on my tears. None of this made any amount of proper sense to my heart, even though my brain could sort out what it all meant.

My heart was still dreaming, in denial, in shock, and broken. "Why did this happen to us?"

You just cried, burying your face in your hands. 

I curled onto my side, ignoring all of the pain, and tucked my knees up to my chest. I wanted to die. I wished I would die.

Maybe I would lose enough blood and then I would die.

Maybe I could hold my breath until I didn't breathe anymore.

"Aurora," you whispered. "I'm so sorry that this happened."

I swallowed the thickness in my throat, wanting to be upset, wanting to be hurt and to lash out. But it wasn't you fault, so I said so.

"It's my fault."

"Jude," I whispered, chest aching. "It was not your fault."

You looked up at me, eyes wet, red, then dropped your gaze, swearing under your breath. "I promise, I didn't mean to cause you this much pain."

My chest throbbed in response. Your heartbreak was mine, and I felt mine was probably yours as well. "I know," I murmured. "I know."

Everything seemed to have fallen apart, and your tears and my heartache did nothing to heal any of it. It was as though our souls had subconsciously made a pact to kill the both of us with the pain.

"What is her name?" you whispered. 

"I don't know," I replied. "Does she need a name?"

But I knew before the words left my mouth that the answer was yes.

"She's our daughter," you said, pain in your voice. "She needs a name."

"Emery Rose, then," I answered. It all hurt so violently. My body. My heart. My mind.

And you, the other half of me, were made up entirely of pain, too.

My throat constricted, but I still managed, "Where is everyone?"

"They're outside. The doctor thought that it would be best if it was just me. Only one person to make you cry instead of seven or eight."

I smiled as best I could and closed my eyes as tears flooded them. I wanted someone to hold me, to tell me everything was going to be okay, and to make it the truth. I wanted someone to bring our baby back and make everything okay again.

My appointment was today. My appointment... where we would learn if it was a boy or a girl.

I breathed in so sharply that I choked. I coughed until I caught my breath and reached out my one free hand to you. The other arm and hand were full of needles.

You took my hand between yours and kissed it. "Is there any way I can make your life easier for you right now? A cup of ice? A rice bag?" You always cared so much. Even when you were hurting, too.

I nodded a little bit. "Get in with me."

You got up without a word and eased onto the bed with me, putting one arm around my shoulders. Your hand rubbed gently at my back, my shoulders.

I placed my ear over your heart and tried to fall asleep, tried to imagine all of our heartbeats together. Emery's, mine, and yours.

It was the only family portrait we would get.

~ ~ ~

Does that memory make you ache inside?

It makes me ache inside.

Our sweet girl, and how she was gone, and how you were as broken about it as I was.

Emery Rose Brahm.

She'd be nearly a year old right now if that night had never happened. If she had stayed in my womb, she would be crawling right now, and learning how to talk.

She would be the part of you that I need to hear, the part that is alive and playful and happy.

If only I had attempted another pregnancy. If I only I had been brave enough.

It makes me wish we had tried again, Jude. 

It truly does.

Sincerely,

Aurora