I wanted to write a brief note to let you know where things stand.
The time is 9:52.
The day has passed.
Will there be another? In the wake of events that transpired during this sun-up, it’s hard to imagine a new dawn. The night sky, visible from a window in Galbraith Private Hospital, Ward 4C, might have decided never to give way to morning light again. No more pain and tears and too much blood. Best to let people sleep eternal from now on, perchance to dream.
That won’t happen. The sun will come up on a world beyond my comprehension. Maybe I’m just wishing for a return to the days before today.
I’m watching over her at this very moment, reading to her in my mind. She is pale and breathing quickly. The haemorrhage really knocked her around. They say she will need extra love tomorrow and that she won’t be going home for a few days. I will be here the whole time, by her side, providing all the extra love she requires and more.
I’m not going anywhere.
Maybe she understands this, because she’s smiling. Smiling like a pregnant teacher who no longer has to fake it, or a grandparent with puke on the clothes, or a Wimbledon champion making muffi ns out of his doubles partner, or a Med student on her fi rst day, or a doctor worthy of a second miracle, or a writer afforded a happy ending to his story.
Dad reckons Mum’s smiling because she’s dreaming of the future.
He’s okay, my Dad.
He calls me ‘Miracle’.
Brendan Reginald O’Doherty
7lb, 3oz
225
Postscript
Postscript
From: “Billy Lid”
Dear Dad
I’m not sure the way of the world ought to be questioned like this, but circumstances have persuaded me to put my hand up.
Hi. I’m your child.
You’re probably surprised, maybe even shocked by my nosiness in contacting you at this early stage. You’re probably thinking ‘If this kid won’t give me any peace eight weeks after conception, then we may as well have the feather-duster on hand in the delivery room’.
I’m sorry. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I would want to do right now. I simply wanted to make sure there are no problems and, if we’re in the clear, maybe you could give me a little preview of this merry-go-round called Life.
Are there any problems? Are you feeling good? Strong? Mum conceded yesterday that you were ‘more stable’ this time around.
She’s still nervous as all hell, but it warmed my heart to hear her say something positive. And Brendan, my brother, has had nothing but positives to say thus far. He reckons you were always ‘too cool for school’.
Are you too cool for school?
Looking forward to your reply.
C
227
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