Supposed to be.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. Supposed to be. She screamed with pain, not able to handle the sensation of her insides being ripped out. This wasn't right, she thought. But what would she know? It was her first child. Her first time giving birth. None of her birthing classes had prepared her for this much pain. With no medication and no one to hold her hand, she was scared out of her life, feeling alone for the first time. She trained her eyes back to the road, taking deep breaths as the agonising contractions eased. She had not been able to wait for her husband to come home before heading to the hospital, the pain had been so bad, and she had been so scared. All she could think about was her baby, she needed professionals to tell her that it was going to be okay, to tell her that her baby was going to be okay. It was 11 pm when she had the first contraction, but her water had not broken the way the birth coach had explained weeks ago.The birth coach had not said there was meant to be blood. Her husband had been out playing poker with his mates and was on his way to the hospital after arguing with her about her driving herself. But she had not been able to wait for him to come home. She had to get to the hospital. Pulling into the parking lot outside the Emergency Room, another torturous contraction seared through her abdomen, she hobbled towards the door, crying in agony, and passed out on the cold floor as one receptionist rushed to her, while the other made an urgent call to the birth center department of the hospital. The floor was cold. So very cold. So very calming. 

"It's going to be okay my love. The nurses will help you. They’ll help our baby. I can’t wait to meet it. I can’t wait for you to meet it. You’re going to be a great mother.”

She woke to her husband's soft whisper in her ear, barely audible over the harsh beeping of the machine attached to her arm, and the concerned mutters of the dozen people buzzing around her. He was talking to her, but she knew he was also reassuring himself. He hated seeing her in pain. But at that moment, he had to watch the love of his life in more pain than she had ever been in before. Not even the epidural could keep the excruciating pain at bay. She fluttered her eyes open, cueing a small gasp from her husband who began stroking her hand, muttering the same words over and over. 

“It’s almost over. It’s almost over my love. It’s going to be okay. It’s almost over now.”

She looked around. A half dozen people were gathered around her stomach, silver instruments were glistening as they were passed back and forth. They sparkled. So pretty. So very pretty, just like her mother's earrings she tried on as a child. A child… a baby. Where was her baby? The mask-clad nurse sitting at her shoulder operating the machine behind her head gave a loud yell, and as if on cue, a burning pain ripped through her body once more, but unlike the others, this one was unbearable, merciless, deathly.

"It's a girl." 

Some say a sleeping baby can bring happiness. But this is not always true. The tortured screams of his beloved wife still rung in his ears, haunting his thoughts. He shouldn’t have gone out for the night. He should have been there for her when she needed him the most.

"Thank you," he muttered, as he took his newborn baby from the arms of yet another nurse. 

There had been so many. It was his first baby too. He had known something was wrong but hadn't realised just how bad it was until she stopped breathing. Until the nurse yelled when the life-support machine signaled her death. Until the defibrillators had been bought out. He had been rushed out of the room along with the nurses carrying his baby, but unlike his new daughter, he hadn't had countless nurses accompanying him, only the very few people walking past him in the corridor, none of which were aware of what thoughts were going through his head. Then another mask-clad doctor had burst out into the corridor to notify him that the defibrillation process had been successful, and had rushed back into the room, leaving him on the ground sobbing with relief. But now he had his precious new baby in his arms and had to pull it together for his daughter’s sake, for his wife’s sake. Yet another masked nurse rushed into the quiet room, speaking in a hushed voice so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. She looked concerned. He was sick of all the concerned nurses, all the solemn faces. She spoke quickly, rushing him out of the room and down the silent corridor he had been forced to sit in as he waited for the results of the defibrillation. As they half-walked, half-jogged down the hallway the nurse spoke again, her stern, yet nervous tone cutting through the silence.

"Sir, if you would like your daughter to meet your wife. If you want to say goodbye.” She paused. “She doesn't have long left."

He felt as if he was in a trance, this couldn't be real. They had bought her back to life before, surely they could do it again.

“Her body is too weak. There's nothing we can do.” The nurse muttered as if she had heard his thoughts through the tortured look on his worried face. The nurse was trying to reassure him, but he still couldn’t comprehend, still couldn’t understand. Nothing seemed right as he pushed open the heavy door and ran to her bed with his, with their, daughter in his arms. By then it was too late.