There was no heartbeat. But I know you were there.
I recall the moment the realisation dawned on me, like sunlight awakens the dark landscape with soft kisses bringing splendid colour. You, too small still for the more obvious telltale signs, enhanced my senses and it was as if I awoke one morning and everything has intensified. I smelt everything. Tasted everything. Felt every sensation on my skin. What is this? (Concern) What has come over me? (Nervousness) Am I due? (Contemplation) Wait a moment, (cautious excitement disturbed by calculation) I am well past due. (And here it comes…) I am late. (Realization). My word, praise the heavens, I am late! (Exuberance!)
When the test affirmed by suspicions, I launched into immediate action to nurture you. Rest, exercise, diet, prayers. You would be perfect.
The unhindered elation can hardly be described. I no longer walked but floated. No longer merely smiled but giggled at the breeze and laughed at the rain. Nothing could contain my joy. Too short lived such joy was. My little wonder.
The doctor pointed and called you a blimp on the screen. Perhaps, but that blimp was ours, mine. And then there was silence. We heard…nothing. No heartbeat.
The world had become a vacuum and the silence echoed. The silence was deafening. Nothingness.
And then in just a few days you were gone.
I didn’t get to know you but how I miss you. How my heart breaks for what was and what could and have been.
Rest well little one. Live forever wherever you are.