Newborn Tragedy

A quick disclaimer: I didn't actually make this story up for my kids. I needed a monologue for an acting class last year and wanted to try and write one, this being the result. It was supposed to take 5 minutes, but ended up taking about 10.

We brought Emily home 3 days after she was born. I offered to take the nights. It’s not like I was going to get any sleep anyway. That first night Emily cried and I barely heard her. I didn’t talk to her, I didn’t rock her, I didn’t sing to her. I just fed her and changed her, and went back to not sleeping.

Amy and I met when we were in high school. We were paired up as dance partners, and both of us wanted to dance with someone else in the class. But, Amy was too tall for the boy she wanted and I was too tall for the girl I wanted, so we had to dance together. We were dance partners for 7 years, and it took us 3 years before we realized our crushes were ignoring us. At that point, it seemed pretty natural to start dating each other.

The second night with Emily I was angry, and I wanted her to stop crying. I fed her and changed her and yelled at her. I almost shook her I was so mad. But instead I put her down and let Amy’s mom deal with her, while I went back to not sleeping.

I gave Amy the tiniest little diamond ring. It was such a small little thing, but it was real and she loved it. We were just a breath past 21 when we were married in a friend of her family’s backyard. It was a wonderful ceremony, with just some close friends and family there. Later that night our friends threw us a party since we couldn’t afford a reception, and it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had; eating, drinking and dancing. We were pretty good at dancing together by then.

The third night I cried and prayed. Somewhere I new I couldn’t change things, but I was ready to make a deal with heaven or hell if things could go back to the way they were. It was no good. I finally talked to Emily that night; and I fed her and changed her, and went back to not sleeping.

After 3 years of trying, it was pretty obvious that maybe we weren’t going to have children. Amy tried to convince me we were just unlucky at first, but nobody is that unlucky. The anger and depression followed and seemed to hit each of us differently, but once we finally accepted that we weren’t going to have kids we decided we were going to try to take our minds off of it with missionary work. So, off we went with our church’s youth group to Mexico, neither of us speaking a lick of Spanish, to teach bible school. There was one little girl who came that we just fell in love with. She’d sit on Amy’s lap as we tried our best to read our pamphlets, and she would just talk and talk to us. We couldn’t speak much more that “Christo Vienne” by the end of those 2 weeks, but we loved that little girl. It was really hard on Amy after we left. Really hard. We didn’t do any more mission trips after that.

The fourth night I heard Emily, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I wanted to die. Amy’s mom got up with her, fed her and changed her. I was in my room with the baby monitor off…not sleeping.

All Amy ever wanted to be was a mom. She had friends that were going to be doctors and veterinarians, but she was always going to be a mom. So after 8 years of trying and not succeeding, we were not being very patient with the little plastic stick that was going to tell us whether Amy really was late for a reason. It seemed like forever, but finally there it was…a little plus sign telling us that we were going to have a baby. Amy was finally going to be a mom.

We buried Amy yesterday. In the delivery room Amy got to hold Emily for a few minutes before the pain started. They took Emily to the other side of the room, and there I was, my brand new baby girl crying on one side of me, my wife bleeding to death on the other side. Amy finally just fell asleep and didn’t wake up.

Last night it finally hit me that the only way Emily was ever going to know about her mom was if I told her stories. I fed her, changed her, sang to her, rocked her and told her stories about her mom all night long.

This morning I fell asleep, and I dreamed I was dancing with Amy.

The End