Perfectly happy family

Oysters and champagne – a typical meal at Christmas markets. At least in Zurich.

Looking down from my generous single-bed hospital room toward the Christmas market near Fraumunster church, I wonder how such a rich and clean city can feel so much like a façade of life. You can have everything here, but you can’t be anything. The golden cage this city is, let’s you glimpse towards the best life to motivate you to continue in their rat race. If you have enough money, and the salaries are, by God, not bad, you can buy anything in this city. But never ever do something which is not in line with what the neighbors might deem inappropriate. Then you’re socially dead.

Some things, however, are harder to get than others. Even here.

My eyes wander towards the small, transparent crib at the other side of the room. Without her, I think, I would be dead. Without her, I wouldn’t have nearly died. Isn’t it ironic that the only way to bring new life into this world is so, so dangerous for both the mother and the child? And still, nobody really prepares one for this part, that you can die so easily while trying to give birth. Hell! In Zurich they didn’t even want to send an ambulance when the contractions started. Are you sure it’s starting, they asked. Ok, well, then you can come in forty-five minutes, they said. We then ordered a taxi and when we arrived at this world-class hospital there was so much blood.

I stare into the deep, dark night sky, hoping my fantasy can come true. The clouds are still there but it seems like the wind is pushing them away. A good sign, there is only one short hour left.

My beloved husband put me in a wheelchair, pushed me as fast as he could to the maternity ward. He is always so caring and willing to sacrifice the last bit of himself for me, for our baby. And still, when we arrived and they realized how severe the situation was, he couldn’t do anything, damned to stand by my side, seeing so many people rush in, seeing how there was no sign of a heartbeat, seeing how they ripped me open, seeing more blood.

It is known that a child watching the fights of the dragons will be blessed by beauty, intellect and luck. Or was it money instead of luck?

They took our blue, non-breathing baby to a different room. Others of them started to stitch me up and, in an industrial manner, estimated how much blood I lost. I didn’t realize a thing. I thought everything went so smoothly and fast. Just my husband was behaving strangely, and I had never seen him so pale before.

The fight of the dragon is, of course, just the northern lights. Sometimes they come way further south than one ever imagines, and the elderly, who never witnessed them before, were reminded of the mighty dragons.

They bring her. She is alive and she cries. Joy! They put her on my husband’s bare chest while the others continued to stitch me up. They seem to bound good, what a perfectly happy family we will soon be! We get moved to a cozy recovery room. Why do they mention that when we have any questions about what happened today, we can just ask them? Why does my husband nod so eagerly? Why does he look so concerned?

Today is one such day. Today there will be northern lights, even above Zurich! Just these clouds must vanish!

This sunny day is the day we can go home. We will be a perfectly happy family. But what is this? We must stay two more nights, because her jaundice is still bad. I want to go home, but her health is my priority.

My husband told me about the northern lights. He always thinks about such things, he is good with details and knows what makes me happy. I always loved to watch the sky, since my father bought me a telescope. And I love symbolic things. I really hope these clouds will vanish.

I shiver. I feel how the fever creeps through every cell of my body. I feel something is growing in me. It’s growing to kill me. I look at the face of my beautiful, cute baby. I think of my handsome, caring husband. If I die tonight, I know that it was worth it. It was worth it to give my life to make this perfectly happy family happen. I write to my husband that I have a fever, I close my eyes. Maybe forever?

My husband can’t be here with me. The hospital allows visitors only during the day. So, he enjoys his evening outside. Probably slurping oysters and sipping champagne, down there. At the Christmas market. My favorite. Why are the clouds still there?

He told me that he rushed from work to hold my hand. He told me that they even had to insert a catheter because my bladder was about to explode. He told me that I would have died, if I wouldn’t have been still here, in the hospital. I am thankful that my perfectly happy family takes care of me, even the baby which can only cry.

The clouds are still there. The hour is gone. No northern lights for me. I can’t give these good wishes to her. I am sad. Why is he down there having fun, with oysters and champagne? While I suffer here, and don’t even get a little glimpse of the northern lights. It’s unfair. It’s unfair. It’s unfair.

They give me the strongest antibiotics, it’s sepsis they say. But they can’t pinpoint to where it comes from. So much trauma, I shiver again. I feel how a dark shadow creeps into my mind. Or just uncovers himself again? I know he was there for a long time, but my beloved, perfect husband saved me from him. I thought he finally killed this shadow. This beast, which is only there to destroy.

My dirty pig husband is probably betraying me with these oysters. Licking them even! He will suffer. I will make his life hell. Unfaithful traitor. How can he promise me northern lights and then not deliver? How can he lure me with this beautiful picture, even though he knows that there are clouds? How can he betray me, me who did so much for him, who suffered so much for him? And then lick these disgusting oysters. He will suffer. Suffer. Suffer.