As the feverish rigors shook her body, she mumbled to him; “If the baby dies, don’t wake me up!”
She was sedated to calm her down and stabilize her blood pressure.
Too many pregnancies she had lost and had much hope that this one would survive, yet it looked like a futile dream.
It was a battle against fate and time as the doctors raced to try and save the neo-natal.
He sat by her bedside, torn apart inside as tears silently dripped down his cheeks and he prayed like he had never prayed before.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Footnote: I had a double mind about writing this short story, but this is a piece of my story. A piece of my journey and I daresay many other women have walked down this torturous path and to those who are in the Lord’s waiting room for fruits of the womb, I say “Hold on.”
When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.
Jacqueline writes from her heart on passion, pain, suffering, loss and LIFE. I have been incredibly moved by her poetry and I know I will return to “Out of the Silent Breath” again and again.
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