Sparkling water

It was on a Thursday evening. You had just gotten back from work when I was hysterically flipping through my agenda. You had never understood why I wrote down my monthly, womanly problem in that, especially since we shared the notebook. I'd been too busy to even hear you coming home, so when you had laid your hand upon my shoulder, I slapped you away as you startled me.

"What are you doing?" Your eyebrows had narrowed. "Did we forget one of your great aunts' birthdays?"

"Zev.." I stood up, couldn't contain my hope, my happiness. "I.. I haven't gotten my period in more than nine weeks."

"Is yours regular?"

"I've never had it irregular."

"Are you stressed..?"

I'd rolled my eyes. "Zev, amore, please! Don't push my hopes down! I could be.."

You held up your hands, then took me in your arms. "Okay, okay. Before we get our hopes up again, how about I buy you a test? And then after that, we can make a doctor appointment? How's that sound?"

My arms were wrapped around your neck, I kissed your lips, then your nose. "Il mio amore, you'd do that for me? Do you think you can hear the little heart beating already?" I remember pulling up my shirt, pushing my bare belly against your cheek as you crouched down.

"I think you're craving pizza, la dolcezza." You grinned, I'd punched your shoulder. You kissed me, made your keys rattle as you reached for them and put back on your shoes. "I'll be right back. And don't pee! Or you won't have any left for the test. And don't pull out the wine bottles, because-"

"Who's getting their hopes up, now?" I cursed in Italian, pushed you out of the door with a smile on my face. "Get out. Come back soon!"

You'd never driven so fast. Within ten minutes, you were back, with not one, but five tests. Just to be sure, you had said. I went to the bathroom, not even a minute later you were bouncing on the door. "Amore! Do you have the results?"

"Zev, it doesn't work so quickly. Let me pee in peace."

Another minute later. "Amore? Are the results.."

Positive. Number two. Positive. Number three. Positive. Four. Positive. Five. Negative.

"Zev?" I had opened the door after a moment of proper shock. "We're having a baby."

Looking back, the pregnancy went quite alright. Not perfect, not too bad. Often, I was nauseous in the morning, and would puke until exhaustion would take me back to sleep, but other than that, it was pretty okay. I'm letting my memories take me back to that wonderful time of being pregnant for the first time. Oh, let me think, amore. I'm on cloud nine. Those days were.. besides that we weren't able to get pregnant before, pretty carefree. Don't you think?

Zev, I was, am, so lucky with someone like you.

Every single doctors appointment, if it was about the morning sickness or an ultrasound, you were there. We went through the journey of the pregnancy together, and it meant everything to me. Do you remember the first ultrasound? We were both so nervous.

"Do they really spread jelly over your belly and go over it with a camera or something?"

"Sort of." I couldn't contain my laughter.

"Do you think they could see the gender?"

"Sei impazitto." I cursed, rolling my eyes, but with a smile tugging my lips. "No, Zev. This is the first ultrasound. It's so little."

"Do you want to know?"

"I want it to be a surprise."

"Me too." You had answered. Wrapped your arms around my neck and kissed me for a moment in the parking lot of the hospital. A moment later, you started jumping up and down, not letting arms slip away. "We're having a baby! We're having a baby! We're going to see our baby today!"

The timid, in a way sequestered, guy was nowhere to be seen. Your happiness was expressed into your hyperactive behaviour. I laughed about it, because as soon as we entered the hospital, you were pretty quiet. Your warm brown eyes took everything in, in silence. I spoke, led the way, prayed that our baby would have some of your unpretentiousness. Because it was one of the reasons I had fallen in love with you, still love you the day today, even if the posture of that has faded lightly as you grew up, becoming more talkative because it was required in the society of being an adult.

I remember lying there, with the so called jelly on my belly and the 'sort of' camera that rolled over it. You held my hand, nibbled onto your upper lip, expressing your nerves that way. Our gaze onto the small computer that showed us a black and white, somewhat vague, film of our baby.

Our baby.

Surreal. Surreal, isn't it?

Ours.

"Let's see.. Everything is looking great, so far. You have been pregnant for eight weeks." The doctor had mumbled out, his concentrated gaze fixed upon the screen. "So far, so good. Congratulations on becoming new parents."

After a conversation about possibly everything with the nurse who picked us up, we got the photos of the ultrasound printed and laid them in our hands as if it was the most fragile, but precious thing in the world.

We couldn't stop looking at it. Couldn't stop dreaming. Couldn't stop talking.

Not even a day later, you came downstairs in your joggers and a white shirt, paint splatters everywhere. "What are you doing?" I had asked. Your eyes sparkled. Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"The nursery, amore. What else?"

"Oh, Zev." We could not stop letting go of each other, and the next following weeks we had went in and out baby shops, bought a stroller, a crib, more than enough pacifiers, nappy's, blankets, hats.. and so on and on. The walls got a terracotta and creme colour. Based on the gender, we would give the remaining of the interior a different colour.

Teddybears. Toys. Books. Every day you came home with something else.

"Zev.. don't you think we should save up now? The other things.. we can get them last minute." A smile tugged the edges of my mouth each time you came home with something you couldn't let linger at the store. I'd never hear you spit out more excuses.

"I'll try." A timid smile. We shared our affection.

Slowly, but surely, my stomach was growing a little each day. When we were near the twenty weeks ultrasound, it was more than visibly rounded. Sometimes I sat in front of the mirror, pulled up my shirt and admired how God had shaped my body. It went beyond me sometimes that our child was growing inside of me. I could only thank God.

Sometimes, I would get enormous cramps. They were so bad, that I thought I was going into labour a couple of times, even when it was no where near my due time. You would hold me, massage me, read me things, rest your warm hands onto my stomach. When I had awoken in the middle of the night, quite randomly, you sat up instantly, as if you wouldn't go to sleep, only to make sure I would be okay.

"Are you alright? Are you in pain?"

"Zev.." I gasped, clamped my belly with my hands. "Zev, oh.. Amore!"

"What is it? Are you okay?" Your eyes grew worried, you instantly held onto me. "Aurora, speak to me."

"Your hand, give it to me, now!"

No question. When your skin was on mine, I led your hand to my stomach, laid it down. I switched on the light, and for the very first time, we saw and felt how our baby moved around. I started crying. Then you started crying. We whispered out a thankful prayer. Healthy and alive, our first baby.

More moments like that came, and after the second ultrasound with the news of the baby being completely healthy, nothing could bring down the thankfulness and happiness we had experienced during those days.

During those days.

"I don't feel well, Zev." It'd only been a few days later. I went through my eating and drinking habit, wondering if I had eaten anything wrong. But there was no wine, no cheese, no things that were a no go during pregnancy that I had eaten or drank.

"What do you feel?"

We were on the couch in the lake house in Italy, you were reading, I was admiring my belly. "Just.. off. You know? I can't specifically point out what's not sitting right, but..."

"Is it the baby? Is there something wrong with our child?" Your voice became shaky. And if I hadn't seen it by then, I was now a million more times sure that you already loved our child more than anything else. "Do you think we should see a doctor?"

"I don't know.." We stared at my belly, your warm hands rested on them. The baby moved. We both let out a deep breath. But it still didn't calm my nerves. "I feel uncomfortable."

"Maybe it belongs to the pregnancy?" You suggested, trying to calm me down. Instantly, you reached for the big pregnancy book you had bought in the bookstore you visited once a week. Okay, I knew you did that twice a week. You aren't so good at hiding stuff, you know. I love that about you, though.

Flipping through the pages, I watched how you searched for the right chapter and read to me. It calmed me. A little. The feeling never faded, never had, until.. well.

It was on a Friday morning. You were off to the Italian shops as you'd wanted to cook me dinner, I was lying in bed. Again, I wasn't feeling well. I'd stared at my belly the whole morning long, tried to feel some movements, but I figured our child was having a nap now she or he still could in the warm, safe spot. It was oddly calm in there. Sort of quiet, even when we weren't able to hear her or his voice, yet.

I didn't dare telling you when you came home, but you felt the tension. I bursted out into crying, you calmed me down before you thought things through in a rational way. "Some days the baby will be more active than the others, right?"

"Zev, I really don't know. It doesn't feel well."

"We're going to the doctors."

It was an emergency ultrasound. They took the time, but it was actually after just a minute that it was clear to both the doctors, nurses, as well to me, but not to you, since they had spoken in Italian.

"What are they saying, Aurora?" You had begged, your eyes screaming despair. "What is it? What does it mean?"

Their words meant that the heartbeat was gone.

What happened after that is still pretty unclear to me. But somehow, we had chosen for a natural labour. It didn't take more than two days before it started after some medicines that had prepared my body for the induction. In those two days, we had barely spoken.

The shock was still unreal. We couldn't believe what happened, or why it had happened. How it could have happened. We were numb.

I still cooked for you. Cleaned the house for you. Then stood in the mirror with my hands resting on my belly, with our baby and its lost heartbeat. Praying that they hadn't seen it right. Praying that it was their mistake. That our baby was still moving around, growing as it should. But it stayed dead silent. Dead calm in there. Life was taken, where it was supposed to grow.

We went back to the hospital two days later. Labour had started. I was in pain. Immense pain. But it wasn't greater than the pain I felt in my heart. I would take a hundred of labors over the pain that tore our hearts in two on that day.

The contractions were tough. I didn't know what I was pushing for. Didn't know why I had to do these efforts, knowing our baby wouldn't be alive. Yet, I used all of my strength. Needed to hold her, or him. Needed to cuddle for a little while. Needed to see our child.

An hour later.

Still born.

Dead silent.

No crying. No congratulating. Just a few whispers. Encouraging words. Then a door closing after we got asked for some alone time.

She was beautiful. Wrapped up in a soft blanket. Eyes closed, as if she was sleeping peacefully. But there was no natural colour on her face. No little chest rising up and down. No contorted little face. No sound of a loud, new born baby's crying.

You crawled into bed with me, holding onto the baby, knowing soon, we wouldn't ever be able to hold her again, until that day in Heaven. "Eden.."

Tears rolled down our cheeks. They mixed together as we pressed our faces together. We mourned. Cried. Moaned. Heartbroken. Torn in two. I can still feel the pain in my heart. As if a piece of it went the day Eden did. And I know that's true.

We kissed her like there was no tomorrow, tried to keep her warm, even when she would be unaware of that. We played with her little fingers, her little nose, her toes, just her delicate, complete being. We took a photo of her. Not wanting to forget what she looked like. The moment seemed like forever, but at the same time only a split second before the doctor and nurses came back into the room. Talking about the death records.

I still think about Eden everyday, Zev. And I know you do too. I love to think about what she would have looked like the day today. What her interests would be, if she loved horses and pink, books and yellow, or cows and cowboys like Benjamin. She would have almost been thirteen.

Our Eden.

Eden. A place of delight.

As if we knew her name would be her destiny, so soon.

I know she's safe in the arms of God. I know she's having a much better life up there than she would have had here. But sometimes, in my selfish moments, I wish she was here with us.

•

Sweet Eden, their first born.. :(

Thoughts?

How would it have been, if Eden had survived ?

Would love to hear of you in the comments x