You'll Never Have to Dream
Nobody Can Ever Have Everything
It’s you and me, it’s me and you; it’s all for you.
“It’s going to be okay, baby, you’re doing great,” my husband of three years says into my ear. Even though he’s whispering, his voice is still more than audible over my screaming. “Just one more big push, and we’ll have our little girl.”
I shake my head, looking up at him with tears streaming down my red and swollen face. My eyes plead with him, begging for him to let me rest, but he shakes his head in reply. I take a deep breath and whimper, “I c-can’t do it… It h-hurts…”
He smiles sadly at my words, and though he hates seeing me in pain, there is a happy glint in his eyes, “You’re so close, baby. She’s almost here.”
It’s all been done, throughout your past; there’s no proof to what you’ve done.
I nod slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath, then bear down as hard as I can. Blood curdling screams rip from my throat as I dig my fingernails into the back of his hand. I see him wince out of the corner of my eye, but it doesn’t register in my brain that I’m hurting him.
I feel myself rip and tear in my most intimate places, white hot pain shooting throughout my body in response. But I don’t care. I don’t care because as soon as the pain reaches the boiling point, to where I can’t stand it anymore, my screams fade; being replaced by the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
Oh, nobody can ever have everything.
My baby screams from the doctor’s arms, and she looks up at me, a wide smile on her face, “It’s a girl! A healthy, beautiful, baby girl!”
“You did it, baby!” my husband’s happy voice fills the air, his lips parted in the widest, happiest smile I’ve ever seen on his face as the doctor hands the baby off to the nurse to be cleaned up. “You did it and she’s beautiful!”
I slump back onto the bed, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as I reach up with a shaky hand and push my hair back off of my forehead. “I d-did it,” I whisper, slowly tilting my head to the side to look up at the nurse as she walks over, carrying my baby in her arms.
Don’t waste your time, don’t waste your time, on me.
“Would you like to hold her?” she asks, holding the baby out to me.
“P-please,” I say breathily, pushing myself up into a sitting position and nodding my head vigorously. She smiles, waiting for me to get myself situated, then gingerly places the baby into my arms.
I stare down at her in awe, cradling her carefully to my chest as my husband carefully lowers himself onto the bed beside me, “What should we name her?”
I sink my teeth into my trembling bottom lip, my eyes on her chubby little face. Her hair is black, the color of midnight, and her lips form the most perfect pout I’ve ever seen. I smile, reaching up and gently pulling back the blanket from around her face, letting my eyes roam over her features before I whisper, “Lucy. Lucy Anne Radke.”
Oh, you know, you’ll never have to dream.
“It’s going to be okay, baby, you’re doing great,” my husband of three years says into my ear. Even though he’s whispering, his voice is still more than audible over my screaming. “Just one more big push, and we’ll have our little girl.”
I shake my head, looking up at him with tears streaming down my red and swollen face. My eyes plead with him, begging for him to let me rest, but he shakes his head in reply. I take a deep breath and whimper, “I c-can’t do it… It h-hurts…”
He smiles sadly at my words, and though he hates seeing me in pain, there is a happy glint in his eyes, “You’re so close, baby. She’s almost here.”
It’s all been done, throughout your past; there’s no proof to what you’ve done.
I nod slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath, then bear down as hard as I can. Blood curdling screams rip from my throat as I dig my fingernails into the back of his hand. I see him wince out of the corner of my eye, but it doesn’t register in my brain that I’m hurting him.
I feel myself rip and tear in my most intimate places, white hot pain shooting throughout my body in response. But I don’t care. I don’t care because as soon as the pain reaches the boiling point, to where I can’t stand it anymore, my screams fade; being replaced by the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
Oh, nobody can ever have everything.
My baby screams from the doctor’s arms, and she looks up at me, a wide smile on her face, “It’s a girl! A healthy, beautiful, baby girl!”
“You did it, baby!” my husband’s happy voice fills the air, his lips parted in the widest, happiest smile I’ve ever seen on his face as the doctor hands the baby off to the nurse to be cleaned up. “You did it and she’s beautiful!”
I slump back onto the bed, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as I reach up with a shaky hand and push my hair back off of my forehead. “I d-did it,” I whisper, slowly tilting my head to the side to look up at the nurse as she walks over, carrying my baby in her arms.
Don’t waste your time, don’t waste your time, on me.
“Would you like to hold her?” she asks, holding the baby out to me.
“P-please,” I say breathily, pushing myself up into a sitting position and nodding my head vigorously. She smiles, waiting for me to get myself situated, then gingerly places the baby into my arms.
I stare down at her in awe, cradling her carefully to my chest as my husband carefully lowers himself onto the bed beside me, “What should we name her?”
I sink my teeth into my trembling bottom lip, my eyes on her chubby little face. Her hair is black, the color of midnight, and her lips form the most perfect pout I’ve ever seen. I smile, reaching up and gently pulling back the blanket from around her face, letting my eyes roam over her features before I whisper, “Lucy. Lucy Anne Radke.”
Oh, you know, you’ll never have to dream.