Nurse Stella checked my wound dressing. I looked down at my ankle which was slightly elevated and surrounded in a plaster cast—just looking at it heightened the pain.
“I will go and get you some pain killers and water, okay? I won’t be long.” She patted my arm gently then gave Bryce a reassuring smile.
He nodded at her then sat down on the chair next to my bed, still clasping my hand in his. Leaning over me, he kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin for what seemed like a long time. “I love you,” he whispered, then I heard him sob and take in a breath. The agony in his inhalation was unmistakable.
All surface pain that I had felt moments ago—my foot, my head, even the spot on my hand where the IV was injected—was nothing in comparison to the unbearable hurt I felt in my heart when I realised why he was sobbing and why I all of sudden felt empty.
I shook my head. “No”.
Bryce didn’t remove his lips from my forehead when he responded. “I’m so sorry, Hunny.”
“No. No. No,” I cried. “Please, no.”
Mum placed her hand on my leg. “Sweetheart, there was nothing they could do. When you fell, your placenta detached.”
My heart was pounding and my chest felt incredibly tight, strangling me from within. I closed my eyes to stop the tears from over-flowing and to try and return to the moment before I fell, desperate to reverse the series of events that had led me here—bruised, battered, and completely heartbroken. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.
Bryce pulled away from my head and placed his hands on either side of my face. “You’re sorry? Alexis, what are you talking about? You have no reason to be sorry.”
“I fell. It’s my fault. Our baby is gone because I fell.”
“This is not your fault. It was an accident.” He leaned forward and kissed my head again.
Jen turned her back to me and looked out the window, her shoulders vibrating as she quietly reeled in her sadness.
Mum dragged a seat to the side of my bed and placed my hand in hers. “Bryce is right, Alexis. It was an accident, you cannot blame yourself.”
It didn’t matter what they said, though. I fell. I didn’t protect my baby. If I had been more careful my baby would still be alive and growing inside me. My baby is gone. A wave of excruciating heartache hit me again, and I cried like never before.
Mum, Jen and Bryce tried desperately to reassure me that I wasn’t at fault, but after their attempts failed, they stopped trying and just let me cry. I cried on and off for hours, and I cried till there were no more tears left to cry.
***
Day 2, after surgery.
The next morning I felt somewhat better, my tears having run dry and my drowsy, sleepy state had lifted a little. I was also allowed to eat a light breakfast of semolina and yogurt. Bryce had taken one look at my first meal in over 24 hours and nearly left the hospital to get me something that did not look like ‘vomit’—his words, not mine. I had to insist he stay with me, which ended up being easy— he didn’t argue, not one bit. Weird. To be honest, I didn’t feel like eating all that much anyway, I still had a headache and was slightly nauseated.
Apparently, my head injury had only been minor, resulting in instant concussion, subsequent soreness, nausea, and headaches. Apparently, I was lucky. Lucky? That one particular word from the mouth of a nurse who had just undergone a change of shift, threw me back into a state of devastation. I had cursed at her and told her that if the ‘definition of luck was falling down the stairs and killing your unborn child then I was the fucking luckiest bitch alive’.
Bryce had asked her to leave the room, while following her out—furious. Needless to say, I did not see her again, but looking back at it now, it really wasn’t her fault. She had just used a poor choice of word, and at that time it had cut me like a knife.
Shortly after my outburst, a hospital counsellor came by to have a chat to me and Bryce. She spoke to us about what we may or may not feel in the coming days and weeks, which I found slightly irritating. I hated being told what I ‘may or may not feel’ by someone who did not know me at all and could not possibly know how I would feel. She kind of made me angry, but then again she said I ‘may or may not feel angry’, so I guess she did sort of know what she was talking about. Regardless, I was not sure I liked her, so I mainly just listened on and off.
She went through the various options that were available to us, for when we were ready to farewell our baby. Options that I could not comprehend, let alone make a clear decision about. I didn’t really want to think about it; I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to sleep.