The Scream of Life

“Push, you can do it Susanne, come on now.” The white fluorescent lights are blinding, the nurses are too loud. Why is it taking them so long to get him out? The eight months felt like eternity, I just wanted my boy in my arms, but still, there's a sense of guilt in me I can’t shake. 

“Concentrate Susanne, we’re almost there. You’re doing great.” All of those voices are overwhelming me . I can feel all of my muscles contracting and expanding painfully, do all women feel like this? The nurses keep talking and telling me what to do, but I'm not really  listening, instead I turn my head to see my husband standing next to me. His hand is nestling mine, it’s a familiar feeling, a warmth I embrace every time, especially now. His eyes transfixed on whatever the nurses are down to me. 

“Chris? I think I’ve settled on his name.” My voice comes out in a whimper. Probably not the best time, but I remember a song my mother loved about a little boy Eugene, the rhythm went with the beating of the pain. Chris chose to leave the naming up to me after I made such a big fuss with our daughter Amelia. He looks at me and stretches a sincere smile, I almost smile myself. 

“Right now? Come on stay present, do what the nurses are saying please, for me.” I know he still doubts my commitment to this birth, to some extent I doubt myself too. Can I do this again? A wave of energy slices through my body with a strength I’d only felt once before, Amelia. No, I can’t be thinking only about her right now, I’m about to see my boy for the first time and Amelia is still the one taking over my head, and whatever is left of my sunken heart. 

“His name will be Eugene!” This time it’s not a whimper but a a deep scratchy howl. The pain and stress are controlling me like a marionette, pulling at the wrong strings. Chris chuckles softly and looks delighted at the name, but he’s too anxious to respond. I can see beads of sweat dripping down his shirt. It looks like he’s the one giving birth. 

“Wonderful Susanna, I can see his head now, don’t focus on the pain but on your son, we’re here with you.” The nurses are being kind and helpful, they really mean well, but honestly, I just want to punch them in the face right now. If one more person tells me what to do I’ll lose it. Amelia’s birth was much smoother, almost too quick. Her cries were gentle and serene, they reverberated through me and pumped my heart with joy in a mellow rhythm. Eugene is different though, not at all like his sister. I’ve been here for too long and my irritation is growing weary. Does Chris feel like this too?

I try keeping a consistent rhythm while pushing, but I  can barely focus, I look at Chris instead. He might be anxious, but there’s a lot more confidence in his stance than there is in me. He’s acting strong for the both of us, I know it. The lights are even brighter now, the walls are glowing white, I shut my eyes to keep the cadence away. 

“We have the head Susanna, almost there, you’re very brave.” The pressure is louder than the voices and the beating of my own heart. I'm almost there, I can do it, and this time things will be different. Eugene will be a crying healthy baby, not a dead one. I flinch at my own thoughts. The damage Amelia’s death has done to me is shattering. I can feel my heart pumping, but there’s no comfort in it. It’s almost like a robotic piece that swapped my real heart. I don’t feel human anymore, even if my feelings of resentment and anger are as mundane as any other emotion. I’ve become the shell of a mother who once lost her baby girl, but never gained the strength to get over the grief. Chris is crying, if I could taste his tears they'd be sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Chris is standing tall watching Eugene leave my womb, I'm different though, my tears are bitter and guilty, they even taste bitter on top of the metallic taste swimming in my mouth. I remember this exact position, laying down next to him, hand in hand, both new eager parents welcoming a baby to this beautiful life. We held Amelia in our arms and embraced each other. The family we had always wanted was finally blooming, but unfortunately that was going to come to an end. For days we nestled Amelia and daydreamed what we would do with her as she grew older. My memories of her are softening the pain and slowing down time. I smelled Amelia’s little head all the time, her smell made me feel safe and awakened something in me I’d never felt before, wanting to protect someone with every bone in my body. Willing to die for her. Chris and I would walk along the beach every morning with Amelia in a stroller. She used to peek her head out and stared in wonder at the raging waves. I used to think those waves were fascinating and hypnotic, but recently they’ve only intimidated me and crushed me down. One time we sat by the shore and let her explore freely. I was reluctant, but Chris thought it would be good for her. Her chubby soft fingers played with the sand and attempted throwing it around. It was the sweetest sight. She had just learned to crawl too, so she kept flipping over like a jelly bean causing Chris and I to burst into laughter. We would spend hours like that. Then one day she got sick, we tried everything, could’ve I done more? Took her to three different hospitals and tried every homemade remedy people suggested, but nothing worked. My baby girl passed in my arms. That day her gentle cries stopped, and her little fingers unwrapped mine. No song made me as happy as her voice. Her head no longer rised to look around in curiosity anymore, she was no longer my darling Amelia, she was gone.

I feel guilty to give life another chance, having Eugene is a blessing, but sometimes it feels like a guilt trip I can't escape. I’m scared Amelia is jealous and angry with me, wherever she is now, I hope she sees how much I love her. I didn't stop the day she died, I haven't stopped since. Was it fair to her and to me to have another baby? 

Suddenly I feel a firm grip around my hand, it’s Chris grabbing me tightly. I snap back to witness what's happening and open my eyes letting the light stab through my eyeballs. I can feel the pressure drifting away with every exhale.

“You did it! He’s a healthy baby boy weighing three kilograms. He has your eyes Susanne, do you want to hold him or should we let you rest first?” There was Eugene in front of my eyes. Small and fragile, but with an intensity to him that radiated confidence and power. Chris and I look at each other for a split second and then down at our held hands. Both our bodies jump in shock when we realize there's a new feeling in our touch. It's not only his hand that's holding mine, but a third one placed right on top. A small hand, I can't see it but I know it's there, it's my Amelia. Chris and I burst into a cry of relief, a sense of relief we hadn't felt in years. Our cries echoed into every solemn white room in the hospital. Amelia is with us. We cant see her but we both know, that's her little hand supporting us. This is her telling us it's okay, telling me I shouldn't feel bad, this is me telling her I still love her and miss her everyday. The nurse holding Eugene looks confused and slightly startled, I smile at her and wipe the tears of my eyes, stretching my arms. 

“I want to hold my son.” I snuggle Eugene with all my love, and kiss his forehead while Chris embraces us both. Whatever guilt I’ve been feeling, whatever anger has been tormenting me for days, is gone. Amelia is here with us, and my baby boy is snug in my arms. I hear his cries, and for the first time in a long time, the sound of music is back.