Guilty

Content warning: death/ dying, an infant in distress

-

Four-month-old baby in critical condition

By Sylvester D’souza, Staff Reporter 

BOMBAY — Four-month-old Isla Pereira was admitted unconscious to the intensive care ward of Malad's Agnes Pediatric Hospital early Friday morning. 

“It's too early to say what happened,” said Sub-Inspector P. Souza, head of the task force assigned to the case. “The parents were both hysterical when we arrived at their home because they thought the baby was dead. I discovered she was still breathing and administered first aid till the ambulance arrived. It's, honestly, a matter of luck that the baby is still alive,” he added.

Mrs. D’sa, a long-time neighbor to the Pereiras, said she knew something bad had happened when she heard the screaming at 4 a.m. “I was getting ready to go for my walk when I heard somebody crying loudly. So, I immediately called the police,” she said. “Everyone in the building is worried. We are praying the baby does not die,” she added.  

At the time of going to press, hospital sources confirmed the baby was still unresponsive.

*

Day

He dropped the baby. He dropped the baby. He dropped the baby. 

“She jumped,” he said.  

“A four-month-old? Are you seriously that stupid, Neel?” I was yelling now and saw him flinch. I knew I was being overwrought but I’m the mother. I’m allowed.

“I’m telling you. I was holding her and she kicked. The next thing I knew she fell,” he said.

“Isla could have died. Be a better father, Neel.” 

“I was sitting on the floor with her. It really wasn’t that far to the ground,” he said, indignant now.

Isla’s pediatrician agreed she was going to be okay but I insisted on bringing her in. 

Night

It’s midnight. He’s awake again but not because of the voices. No, tonight is all guilt; he’s swathed in it. After all, what kind of father drops his first-born? 

He walks softly to his wife’s side of the bed and peers into the crib. The baby is asleep. He bends to her, so close he can smell her sweet milky breath. Gently, ever so gently, he checks her head where he dropped her earlier in the day. Please God, let her be okay. Then a realization: she has his nose and she will hate him for it when she’s older. Nothing God can do there.

He turns and walks to the bedroom window, cracks it open. The rasp of a matchstick breaks the silence of the night, a yellow flash briefly lights the darkness, then an orange circle marks his space in the night. He pulls and the orange glows brighter. He is smoking again. When was the last time? Eight years ago, maybe, when they first started trying for a baby?

Day

He said he was ready to bathe Isla.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“I know I told you it scares me but I want to help,” he said. 

“We got lucky yesterday, Neel. We may not if you’re careless again.”

I watched him sigh and drop his head. Then I handed Isla to him.

He filled the tub with warm water, tested it and got into it fully clothed. He took Isla from me and placed her on his lap. Then he proceeded to bathe her with the same preciseness I’ve seen him bring to his work.  

He looked her in the eyes the whole time; I looked at him, searching for that soft sheen of new fatherhood. But I found nothing. 

I cleared my throat loudly and he startled, as if he forgot I was in the room. 

“You don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder,” he said. “It’s not like I’m going to let her drown.”

Night

The sounds wake him again, just like the other nights. He is weary from the lack of sleep, mostly because at four months the baby is still new to him; but also because, like the baby, the phantom night noises are new. 

Tonight it was footsteps—heavy thuds on the wood flooring of their townhouse; the other night it was the sound of kids laughing. Each time he worries it’s the baby and that rouses him immediately. Perhaps, tonight it actually is someone? His wife? But, no, she is warm in bed next to him. An intruder? No. Shhh. This is what happens when you’re tired all the time. It’s enough to make you wonder if you’re losing your mind. 

He looks at the clock; almost midnight. He steps out of bed and pads softly to the crib. He leans to the baby and kisses her forehead gently. She stirs but he pats her back to sleep.     

Day

Isla was an absolute beast; she cried through breakfast and past lunch.  

“Babies have off-days sometimes,” Neel said.

But that only angered me further. “So, you’re a pediatrician now?”

“I can tell when you’re really tired,” he said, “You let everything upset you. Here, hand her to me.”

So I did. I had gone from worry, past resignation and well into exhaustion. How Neel stayed calm in the face of so much brutishness I will never understand. 

Night 

He has not slept tonight. Mostly because the baby has not stopped fussing and also because his wife looked more tired than he felt. 

He rocks the baby, humming to her as paces the room; it’s the one thing that seems to help. He searches for the words to an old lullaby his father used to sing—something about crows.

He continues like this for an hour, two; finally the baby calms and slumbers in his arms. He gently places the baby in the crib and stumbles to bed.

He looks at the clock. It is well past midnight this time. The tiredness of the day finally overwhelms him. Even as he drifts he worries that parenthood has come so reluctantly to him; not like his wife, she was born to nurture. If you ask, he will tell you he loves the baby. But to himself he confesses his feelings are dutiful, more fastidious than unconditional. Although, tonight, he thinks the love will come. 

A few hours later he stirs because of the voices again. This time it is the sound of someone talking. In his dream she calls to him; something about the baby, about falling asleep with the baby in her arms, about forgetting the baby was in bed with them. The talking stops and the screaming begins. Then comes the wailing. It is loud, frantic, bereft, terrible. He pushes through the fog and awakens to his wife. 

The baby is hurt. The baby is hurt. The baby is hurt.   

*

Baby Isla makes full recovery

By Sylvester D’souza, Staff Reporter

BOMBAY — After a week in intensive care, four-month-old Isla Pereira returned home yesterday. 

Doctor Agnes D’Silva, head of the Agnes Pediatric Hospital said, “I know this is every parent’s nightmare but we’re happy to report Isla made a complete recovery. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit but the important thing is she's okay now.”

“It was a case of accidental suffocation,” said Sub-Inspector P. Souza. “Our investigations uncovered that the baby had had an especially difficult night. She had woken up crying at around 3.30 a.m. Her father usually handles her but he was asleep. So the mother brought the baby into bed with them and, at some point, she may have rolled on top of her. Thankfully, she woke up and noticed the baby under her. A few more minutes and it could have ended differently. We have ascertained this is not a case of negligence but the parents are still shaken up from their experience.”

Mrs. D’sa, neighbor to the Pereiras, said, “I have been praying. I knew Isla would be okay. They are good parents. If they are guilty of anything, I would say it is of loving that baby too much.”