Sequel: Folie à Deux

From Under the Cork Tree

Thirty Two


A woman's voice called my name calmly. There was the sound of sirens and this sharp pain under my belly, in my chest, and my head. I felt like I was suffocating, something was pushing up against my lungs. My hands reached upward, my eyes were blinded by bright white lights. I tried to cry, but my throat was locked, breathing was hard, I was trying to gasp and breathe, it was impossible.

"Angel, can you hear me?" The woman asked. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

I felt her hand in mine, delicate and slippery, rubbery. I squeezed her hand as strongly as I could; but I knew it was weak. I groaned, trying to open my eyes despite the bright light that burned.

"Angel...Angel," the woman called to me, "you with me, honey? You're going to be alright. You and your baby. I need you to squeeze my hand again if you're with me."

I weakly squeezed her hand again. Finally, I gasped, inhaled and then forced myself to speak up, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about a thing," she said, "we're en route to the hospital."

I didn't feel anything just then; my body felt numb, the pain suddenly went away. My heart began to beat quicker and quicker as I remembered my baby. Had my baby died? Had my baby been removed?

Forcing my eyes open, I let the lights burn, feeling the dull sting; "Where's my baby? Where is my baby?!"

The woman was dark skin, she had a pleasant face, her free hand was on my belly, "Don't worry, the baby is okay."

The look on her face told the truth; my baby wasn't okay.

I began to cry, "Is he dead?"

The paramedic was going to speak, but as the ambulance bounced, it stopped abruptly. It was like a crash, things went by fast; there were suddenly lots of people in scrubs, taking me out of the ambulance in the stretcher I was lying in. They spoke fast, they didn't speak to me, only telling me that they were going to help my baby.

My mind ran frantic and the anxiety was overwhelming. I started to cry again, trying to shove them away from my belly, but there was too many of them. Two female nurses grabbed my arms, telling me to calm down before a slew of nurses or doctors lifted the sheet over my belly and propped my legs up. My eyes grew wide when I saw the blood. I screamed, "What are you doing?! What did you do?!"

The one female between my legs said, "She needs to be sedated, she's stressing the fetus--"

The male cut her off, "The fetus needs to be removed immediately."

"No!" I screamed more, "Don't! Don't! Don't hurt him!"

"Calm her down, please," the male muttered.

It was within seconds that my heart slowed down to a pitter-patter. My thoughts were still rushing, only at a snail's pace. I looked around, figuring out what they did, that's when I noticed the IV drip leading to my hand that was gripping the protective side rail.

"What's happening?" I asked breathlessly.

No one answered me.

Then, I felt this sharp pain in my lower abdomen; it spread across my pelvis, under my belly. I tried to see what it was, but they had lifted the light blue sheet covering me, up over my belly. I was scared, afraid that they were ripping my baby from my womb; I was positive that my baby was dead, the thought made me sick.

I started to vomit, violently. A nurse gave me a bag, but it wasn't any use. I thew up all over myself and the side of the bed. I felt the pain of pressure and stinging, causing more vomit to come up.

And then, I passed out...or fell asleep, I'm not sure which. It was all black.


I was in and out of consciousness; I had felt pressure on my ribs and lungs, and then sharp pains in my lower back. I had heard rushed words and felt the tension. The one thing I didn't hear, that I had hoped to, was crying from my baby.

My body felt empty at one point, that's what prompt me to stay conscious. There was an oxygen mask on my face, my vision was blurry, I tried to sit up, the pain was almost too great, but I managed. I looked around, seeing a doctor and two nurses huddled in one part of the room, another nurse was between my legs, talking to me, but her words were nothing to me.

"What's wrong?" My voice sounded foreign to me. "Where's my baby? Is my baby okay? Is he okay? Please answer me!"

"It's okay, Angelus, just relax," the nurse between my legs said.

"Is he dead?" I asked.

By this point, if she had told me, I wouldn't have been able to understand her. My head was foggy and swimming; it was as if my brain was drowning; drowning in whatever was taking over my body. I couldn't take sitting up, I passed out again, not willingly.

The next time I woke, I felt this soft weight on my chest. It wasn't heavy, it was really comforting. I heard soft whimpers, like a newborn kitten, whimpering to be known, out of instinct. The bright lights had dimmed upon my eyes fully opening; the weight on my chest squirmed, and it slowly hit me, slowly, that what was on my chest was a baby. My baby was here.

I looked down at my chest, my eyes slowly correcting and clearing. My baby's skin was white, cheeks were bright red, eyes shut tight, tiny little lips turn down tightly. My little baby was a little ball of anger, the expression frightened me a little.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Holohan?" The female nurse who had been between my legs was suddenly beside me.

I nodded, "Yeah," my hands reached up to my chest, and I cradled my baby. "I'm okay... He's finally here."

The nurse giggled, but I didn't get it, I just stared at my baby.

"Oh, honey, you have a little girl. Did your doctor tell you otherwise?"

I frowned slightly, feeling terrible for assuming my baby had been a little boy. I shrugged then, shaking my head, "No. I just...I thought she was a boy."

"Are you disappointed?" The nurse asked cautiously.

"No," I brought my finger to trace over my baby girl's cheeks.

"Congratulations," she giggled again, "I'll bring the incubator and the birth certificate and we'll get this little beauty a name. Are you ready for that?"

I hummed, my eyes glued to my pink faced baby.

The nurse left, and it was just me and my baby girl. The room was quiet, except for the beeping monitors and my baby girl whimpering every few seconds. I was almost too shocked or intimidated to even hold her, to speak to her. It was an overwhelming feeling; I love her to pieces, but I feared her. That feeling was nerve wrecking, I felt like I shouldn't be her mom, I shouldn't be holding her. My mind kept screaming that I couldn't do it, that I'm not worthy of having her, I didn't care about her like a mother should.

"I didn't care about you," I muttered to her, "we lost your daddy...John, and I didn't care. I almost killed you."

Of course, my baby girl didn't speak. She only whimpered and squirmed for a few seconds. My heart was in my throat, the fear of holding her was too much; my eyes began to burn and I sobbed.

"Someone--anyone! Someone!" I shouted, wanting anyone to take her from me.

My shouting prompted my baby to cry, and she wailed loudly. This was something I wasn't expecting; I almost tossed her away from me, but my instincts kicked in just as I reeled my arms back. My mind told me to stop, told me that this is a newborn baby, my baby, and I would regret even holding her the wrong way. But, another part of me, that was growing, was telling me that this baby was the result of John's death, that she was what caused him not to think about driving and got himself killed. The two senses battled in my head and body, a big jumbled mess that made too much noise, both inwardly and outward.

"What's wrong?" The nurse returned; her eyes wide and frantic, her body was tense, she was afraid. "Did you hurt yourself or the baby?"

I shook my head and shoved my baby to her, "Take her, please! I-I can't--I don't want..." I trailed because the words sounded so harsh in my head.

I was going to say that I didn't want her. I did want her, I had wanted her for months, and here she was. In all that time, I lost John and was imagining how I'd bring our baby up without him.

The nurse didn't say anything, she just cradled my baby in her arms; her features calmed, relaxed, but there was sadness in her eyes. I felt terrible. My baby calmed down too, into the nurses arms, causing me feel worse.

I did not deserve her.

"Sh-she should be in an incubator, right?" I stammered guiltily. "She's pre-mature..."

The nurse hummed, "Yes, but she's been doing so well. It's like she made it to full term. She's big for her age."

The nurse giggled to herself, I didn't say a word. My baby whimpered, I could see her eyes were open.

"I'll take her to the nursery now, Mrs. Holohan," the nurse smiled. "My name is Jackie, if you need anything."

I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes on my baby as she was placed in this clear incubator. I couldn't see the color of her eyes, she looked so far from me...she felt that way too.

"Are you up for visitors?" Jackie asked, turning to me.

I shook my head, closing my eyes. I felt Jackie place her hand on my arm, rubbing gently, "There's nothing to worry about, your little girl is in good hands. By the way," her hand slipped down to my forearm, "do you have a name picked out for your little bundle of joy?"

I opened my eyes, looking at her, "Yeah...yeah, I do."

She smiled wider, "Great. Shall we fill out the certificate after I put her in the nursery?"

I shrugged, "I guess."

Jackie patted my arm before turning and heading out of the room with my baby. I couldn't watch them go, there was this big weight in my heart that told me it was all bad. I didn't want to be here, to acknowledge a day here with my baby...

I missed John so much.
♠ ♠ ♠
I don't feel well, my life has taken a nosedive, and I'm more than positive that I'll be able to write how I feel in Angelus pretty well.

I won't bore you, just tell me what you think
Thanks for reading, I appreciate it