Where The Heart Is

I stared out at the ocean as I sat in the sand, covered in gravel and debris.

“Mommy! Mommy! Do you see me?”

I turned my head to the left and saw my six-year-old daughter, Grace, playing in the ocean with her father.

“Yes, honey, I see you!” I said back to her with a wave.

She smiled and laughed and splashed around some more.

I looked at my husband, David. How gentle he was with her. How protective he was. Watching her every step to make sure she didn’t slip or get injured by the waves. Our eyes locked and he smiled at me. I fell in love with him more and more each day, but I knew the longer that time went on, he’d eventually find out the truth.

That our daughter Grace wasn’t his.

Or mine.

————————————

October 15th, 2019.

I laid in the hospital bed weeping and sobbing.

There’s no heartbeat.

We can’t find a pulse.

Their words echoed in my mind over and over and over.

“Mrs. Livingston? Is your husband going to arrive soon? We don’t want you to be alone.” The nurse said to me.

My eyes were blurry and still full of tears when I made eye contact with her. I shook my head softly.

I knew David wasn’t coming. His business trip didn’t end until tomorrow night, and I was not supposed to go into labor today. Not for six more weeks.

“Do you have any family that we can call?” The nurse asked again.

“No,” I managed to say. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Ma’am, no woman is fine after a stillbirth. Are you sure there’s no one we can contact?”

“I’m sure!” I said slightly more aggressive than before. How is she going to tell me how to feel? “I just want to go home.”

I felt the tears sting the back of my eyes again. I knew I’d start weeping again if I didn’t get out here soon.

“Let me get your discharge papers, okay?” The nurse said, slightly frantic. I didn’t mean to scare the poor girl.

I nodded as she left the room.

The room stayed silent for a few moments before the door flew open.

Screams filled the room as doctors and nurses came in with a woman clearly in labor. One of the nurses looked at me. “We are short on rooms tonight, miss. I hope you don’t mind sharing space with another new mommy.” She smiled at me quickly before turning back to the screaming woman.

She must not have known that I was not a mommy. That my baby would never take their first breath. Never see the beautifully balanced pink and cream nursery that David and I hired three different interior designers for. How was I going to return home without a baby?

The first nurse finally returned with my discharge papers. She tried to talk to me, but I tuned her out and made my way out of the delivery room. I walked slowly through the labor and delivery unit. I heard a lot of mom’s screaming as they were commanded to push and the wailing sound of a newborn baby experiencing life for the first time outside of the womb.

As I approached the NICU, I stared at the newborn babies through the glass. So many of them were swaddled in pink and blue blankets. At some point, my feet gained a mind of their own, and I made my way into the room. I found one baby girl — wrapped in a pink and white butterfly blanket — and I was fascinated with her.

“Isn’t she precious?” A male nurse asked me.

I smiled at him a little and nodded my head.

“It’s too bad her mother didn’t make it. Making those calls to DCFS are the hardest.”

“Her mother didn’t make it?” I asked. “That’s horrible.”

“Lots of blood loss according to her file.”

“What about the dad?”

“Non-existent.” He stopped himself. “Excuse my unprofessionalism. I’ve been here for 17 hours and I have had zero sleep.”

“Can I have her?” I asked.

“Ma’am it doesn’t usually work like that.”

“My baby was stillborn. I wasn’t due for another six weeks. I have the means to take care of her. Might be easier than calling DCFS.”

The male nurse stared at me. He looked as he could see the heartbreak, pain, and desperation in my eyes.

“Let me see what I can do.”

He left the room and I looked at the baby girl’s nameplate. “Baby Girl Doe. Well, that’s not a quite a name for you, is it?” I asked her as if she could respond or understand me.

Her eyes met mine as she scanned the room cluelessly, babbling and sniffling as she adjusted to the lights and the hospital air.

“What if we called you, Grace?” I said softly caressing her hair. “Do you like that name?”

She just continued to stare at me unaware of anything that was going on.

The male nurse came back in the room and I moved my hand quickly.

“Ma’am?” He said to me. “Apparently, our hospital bylaws state that if an expectant mother loses a child due to stillbirth or miscarriage, and there is no next a kin for a newborn baby whose mother did not survive labor, then the hospital has the right to formally allow the mother to adopt the Baby Doe.”

“What are you saying?” I asked him.

“If you want her, she’s yours.”

I smiled at him and looked back at Baby Girl Doe. “Yeah. She’s mine.”

The male nurse led me into a room to sign some papers, list information about David and I’s address, income, and things like that. I completed all of the paperwork as thoroughly and as quickly as I could.

“What do you want to name her?” He asked me as I held her close to my chest.

“Grace.” I said. “Grace Anne Livingston. A-N-N-E. After my mother.”

He clicked some keys on his keyboard and printed a sheet of paper. He handed it to me and I walked out of the hospital that day as a mother.

———————————

I stared out at the ocean as I sat in the sand, covered in gravel and debris.

“Mommy! Mommy! Do you see me?”

I turned my head to the left and saw my six-year-old daughter, Grace, playing in the ocean with her father.

“Yes, I see you, honey! Mommy’s coming!”

I got up from my seat, and made my way to the water with my husband and daughter.

I love my family.