Unspoken Words

by K. M. Golland

“Call the nurse,” she said, her voice shallow.

  I wrenched open the door and frantically searched the corridor, spotting Nurse Tracy. “Tracy. Come, quick! Something’s not right.”

  Tracy hurried her steps and followed me into the room, and with one look at Ellie and her monitor, she hit an emergency button and the announcement ‘Code Blue, room eleven East Ward’ sounded.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Her heart is arresting again.” She placed an oxygen mask over Ellie’s face and laid her bed flat. “Ellie, stay calm. Breathe. You’re okay.” Tracy turned to another nurse who entered the room, pushing what looked like a defib machine on a cart. “Page Dr Webb and Dr Goodman. And call theatre. Tell them to prep for an emergency C.”

  “My baby,” Ellie said, her words muffled through the mask.

  “She’s fine but she needs to come out. Now.”

  Her eyes found mine and they filled with tears. “Connor!”

  “I’m here.” I took hold of her hand.

  She released from my grip and felt for the notebook, picking it up and handing it to me. “It’s for Christina. Make sure she gets it.”

  “Wh … what?” I was confused, although I knew deep down what she was saying. “I will. But you can give it to her when she’s older.”

  “Okay, Connor. I need you to step back,” Nurse Tracy said as she released the brakes on Ellie’s bed, and with the help of two male nurses, began to wheel her out of the room.

  I grasped Ellie’s hand again and kissed it as I shuffled next to her moving bed, my grip broken as we reached the door. Everything was happening so fast, my world all of sudden spinning as the greatest terror I’d ever known slammed me in the chest. This time, I could not only lose the love of my life for good, but I could lose my daughter as well.

  “ELLIE!” I went to follow them.

  “Connor, you need to stay here.” Nurse Tracy gave a stern but concerned look as they entered a sterile area.

  Ellie’s eyes met mine one more time before they fell shut.

  “ELLIE! I LOVE YOU. Please. Please don’t leave me.”

  Falling to my knees as the doors closed behind them, I cried, helplessly, repeating the words she’d always wanted to hear and, now, may never hear them.

  I love you. I love you. I love you.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Connor

  The NICU was quiet, almost peaceful, hushed murmuring of nurses and parents harmonising with ventilators and the soft monotone beeping of heart monitors around the room. It was a strangely tranquil atmosphere despite the circumstances surrounding its existence, but maybe that was because babies somehow had the ability to soothe in crisis. They amplified love and perspective and signified hope.

  Lightly stroking Christina’s leg, I shuffled my chair closer to her incubator, my hands safe and sterile within the small ports on the side. Her tiny fingers were clasped around my thumb, her sensitive eyes covered with a mask. I wanted to lift it and see if they were as mesmerising as her mother’s, because at five days old, she was definitely a miniature Ellie: strong, resilient, and breathtaking.

  A bright blue light illuminated her body, and she looked as if she were in a fishbowl without the water. I moved my hand to her face and ever so gently circled the pad of my finger over the tip of her nose, smiling to myself because I’d been wrong—she definitely had my nose, not Ellie’s.

  A small plastic tube protruded from her nostrils, providing a steady stream of oxygen to her lungs. My finger skimmed it; my smile faded. I also grimaced at the intravenous drip inserted into the back of her hand, together with the many miniscule wires attached with tape to various parts of her body.

  “Such a brave little angel,” I whispered, stroking her fine, light auburn hair.

  The nurses kept telling me that touch was important, that she needed to feel her daddy and hear his voice. So … I talk to her. I tell her how beautiful she is and how much I love her. I tell her that her mummy is still sleeping and when she wakes up, she will come and talk to her too. I tell her how special she is and how she’s the luckiest little girl in the whole wide world to have the bravest and strongest mummy. And I sing, quietly, because everything else I can’t say, she still needs to hear.

  “Good afternoon, Connor.”

  Looking up, I gave the head midwife a smile as she approached Christina’s incubator crib. “Hi, Melina. My girl is looking even bigger today.”

  “There’s a very good reason for that. We measured her this morning and she’s grown nearly two centimetres.”

  “Two centimetres, Christina! You little legend.” I pressed my face to the plastic window, desperate to smell her and place just one kiss on her head. “That’s great!”

  “It is! I’ve also had a chat to Dr Powell, and we’re happy for Christina to go on a special trip to see her mum today.”

  “Wait! What?”

  The corners of Nurse Melina’s mouth lifted. “Yes! We can wheel her in the crib to Ellie’s room. It will be good for them both.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and I carefully removed my hands from the crib before standing up. “Do you think Christina’s presence might help wake her mother up?”

  She shrugged. “It might.”

  “Okay. So when can we do this?”

  “Now, if you’d like.”

  I held the door open to Ellie’s room, and we pushed the crib inside

  Beth shot out of her seat, an expression of shock and delight on her face. “Oh my goodness! What—”

  “And here’s Mummy,” I said, finishing my guided tour of the ward.

  The two patient-transporter clerks set the crib next to Ellie’s bed.

  “What is she doing here? Is this permanent?” Beth flocked to the crib like a seagull to a chip. “Hello, Nanna’s beautiful girl. Have you come to see Mummy?”

  Roger and Chris also flocked to my daughter, so while they quite rightly cooed, I moved to the other side of Ellie’s bed and took her hand in mine. “Baby, someone has come to see you.”

  Ellie didn’t respond, her body perfectly still and perfectly peaceful, a sight that would put sleeping beauty to shame. Her hair fanned like flames over her pillow, and I could tell Beth had brushed it while I was at the NICU. She’d also painted her nails pink, leaving one bare on each hand, which made me curious. I didn’t query it though. Tending to Ellie—even if it was for small cosmetic things—I guess, helped Beth feel she wasn’t completely useless—something I understood well.

  Laying Ellie’s hand on top of the crib, I waited and held my breath, a part of me hoping she’d open her eyes like some kind of fairy tale. Of course I knew the chances of that happening were pretty much zero yet, nowadays, I wasn’t above hoping and praying for better odds. I’d done a lot of it in recent times and, so far, it was working.

  Trailing my finger across the bridge of Ellie’s nose, I counted her freckles and then closed my eyes, tears stinging as I pressed them away. All I wanted was for her to wake up and meet Christina, if only for a minute. I’d give anything for that to happen. And it would, I knew it would. I just … I couldn’t handle the waiting.

  Ellie had suffered another cardiac arrest after disappearing behind the heavy, silver doors en route to theatre. They’d resuscitated her and performed an emergency C-Section, safely delivering Christina. Up until yesterday, Ellie was in an induced coma, but they’d slowly weened her off sedation, and it was just a matter of time before she woke up.

  Reaching for the bedside drawer, I opened it in search of a tissue but found the pink notebook Ellie had made me promise to give to our daughter. I took hold of it and sat back, opening it to the very first page.

  Girls are the best,

  chuck out the rest.

  I laughed and turned to the next page.

  Christina Bethany-Ella Bourke, you are named after your awesome mother, Nanna, and, sometimes awesome, uncle—an extra little piece of us I wanted you to always have with you.

  But you are you and nobody e
lse.

  Strong, beautiful, and forged from insurmountable love your father and I have for each other.

  I let out a sob and fisted my hand, resting it on my lips. Ellie. My beautiful, smart, Ellie.

  Sadly, love doesn’t conquer all, which is why I’m writing this notebook for you.

  Love doesn’t prevent death, but it does nurture the pain death brings.

  Death is awaiting me, my precious girl. It hides in the shadows and has been awaiting me for quite some time. I guess it awaits us all—the only certainty we have in life. But, unlike so many, death has kindly given me a heads-up. And as I write this, I somehow know I won’t see you become the intelligent, amazing woman I’ve no doubt you’ll be.

  I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could share every milestone, every birthday, every smile, and every tear. And I will, in a way, just not the way we all deserve.

  And that’s why I’ve written this notebook.

  Your father (and probably uncle and grandparents) will tell you I’ve always had something to say, so this is my way of speaking my unspoken words to you.

  Here we go.

  My hand trembled as I tried to turn the next page, but I couldn’t. She’d known her heart would fail again. Except, she’d thought it would fail for good.

  Bursting into tears, I stood up and walked to the window, my back turned to Beth, Roger, and Chris, the notebook dangling from my hand.

  “Connor, darling, is everything all right?” Beth asked.

  “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

  “How ‘bout we give you a few?” Roger squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, Beth. Let’s get a coffee. And, Chris, I’m sure you can find a nurse to talk to.”

  “I’m sure I can, and will.”

  Beth stopped by the door. “Can we get you anything?”

  I shook my head. “No. Apart from Maxey, I have everything I need right here in this room.”

  She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay. We’ll be about if you need us.”

  Once the door closed behind her, I took a deep breath, returned to my seat, and opened the notebook to the next page.

  Lesson One

  You can’t measure a lifetime because you never know its end.

  Be strong.

  Love.

  Give voice to what beckons within.

  Use the time you’re given wisely.

  Don’t waste it on thoughts you’ll never speak.

  Lesson Two

  Be you and only you.

  Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not pretty enough, smart enough

  … that you’re not enough.

  You are. You’re more than enough. Always.

  Lesson Three

  Mums and daughters share a special bond; it’s called being a woman. It’s scary, and I’m sorry about that. But being a woman is also a gift, a privilege, so always treat it as such. Never see it as a handicap or dead end, no matter what bullshit society feeds you. When that brick wall is placed before you, smash it down. When you set off five or ten paces behind your male counterparts, take the biggest leaps you can, and do it in heels and with a smile just to show off.

  At many points in your life, you’ll be taught by those who are afraid of women that women are much less than they really are. Don’t believe them. Being a woman is powerful. Use that power; don’t waste it.

  Now, I want to talk about your father for a second. Granted, I could talk about him all day, because he is the most amazing person I know. Talented. Empathetic. Determined. He’s been the air I breathe for as long as I can remember.

  Your father loves with every fibre of his being, but he might never tell you that. And that’s okay. He doesn’t need to because he shows it with every breath he takes.

  What’s important isn’t finding someone who says, ‘I love you’. It’s finding out if they truly mean it.

  Okay, so because I’m not there with you both, I’ll need you to do a few things for me. Some special Mummy/Daughter promises.

  Promise one: Make sure Daddy plays his guitar every day, even if he says he doesn’t want to. Make him sing ‘My Girls’ or ‘Ever After’. He will if you ask him to.

  Promise two: One of the first things I noticed about your father was his dimples. They popped like popcorn every time he smiled. Do Mummy a favour and poke them every night when he tucks you into bed. We must never let them fade.

  Promise three: Don’t let your father have too many sugars in his coffee. No more than two. Two is plenty.

  Promise four: Order a Meatlovers pizza every Friday night.

  Promise five: Read books. Everything you need to know is in a book, somewhere.

  Promise six: Barrack for your Uncle’s football team, The Bombers. But if you insist on following another team, it CANNOT be Collingwood.

  Promise seven: Don’t dye your pretty red hair. I know you’ll want to—at one point, Mummy wanted to dye hers to —but be strong. Embrace the fire. It’s a gift.

  Promise eight: Make a mud pie, jump waves at the beach, dance in the rain, and wish upon a shooting star. Enjoy the little things in life because, believe it or not, you’ll remember them most.

  Promise nine: Never suppress your emotions. Let them out, you’re supposed to feel them. Cry. Laugh. Shout. Kick and scream. And afterwards, take a deep breath then read Fox in Socks.

  Promise ten: Always remember I’m there with you. When the breeze blows, that’s me. When the sun shines, that’s me. And when the stars come out, I do too. You might not feel it, but I’ll hold your hand every day. And I’ll kiss your head every night.

  I love you, my precious daughter. For ever and after.

  I closed the notebook, the words a blur to my soaked eyes, my heart full but unbearably aching.

  “You said, ‘I love you’.”

  My eyes shot to Ellie, her eyes bright green and awake, her warm, soft hand covering mine.

  She was awake. My Ellie was finally awake.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Ellie

  I opened my eyes to find Connor crying by the side of my hospital bed as he read my notebook, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking. My mouth and nose were covered with a breathing mask, the room bright with daylight, both of us alone. The last thing I remembered was him shouting, ‘I love you’ right before I was whisked away to have an emergency caesarean, to give birth to Christina. My baby! CHRISTINA!

  Wrestling the oxygen mask from my face, I pulled it down below my chin, my heart heavy, my chest incredibly sore. “Where is she?” I tried to sit up, to search for my daughter, but I was too weak, too fragile, too breathless.

  Connor stared at me, his eyes searching my face like a Where’s Wally book, both of them shining with tears before his mouth slowly morphed into the biggest dimpled smile I’d even seen.

  “You’re awake!” He reached for my face and pressed his lips to mine, his kiss warm, damp, and full of relief. “Welcome back, baby.”

  “Christina,” I mumbled against his lips. “Where’s our daughter?”

  He pulled away and pointed to the other side of my bed, to the plastic crib I hadn’t realised my hand was resting on. “Right there. Right next to her mummy.”

  I inhaled and my existence stopped, as if an invisible meteor of love soared into the atmosphere and hit me right in the chest. She was so small and dainty, delicate and … perfect. And for the first time in my life, not one single word could convey what I felt. Not. One.

  “She’s growing stronger every day,” he said, gently squeezing my hand.

  My jaw fell open, and I peeled my stare from my daughter to my husband. “Oh my God! She’s … she’s immaculate.”

  He nodded, as if this wasn’t news to him, which, of course, it wasn’t.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked.

  “Five days.”

  “FIVE DAYS! I’ve missed five days of her life already?”

  My pulse quickened, and an alarm sounded on the machine beside me.

  “Shit!” Con
nor shot out of his seat. “I should’ve called for the nurse.”

  “It’s okay. I feel fine. A little breathless but fine.”

  He launched for the emergency button just as Nurse Tracy entered the room. “She’s awake,” he said, pointing to me. “She just woke up.”

  “So she is! Good to see you again, Eloise.” Tracy smiled, switched off the alarm, and moved my mask back over my nose and mouth. “Let’s keep this on for now, okay?” She then peered into Christina’s crib and tutted. “Mummy’s machines are a bit noisy, aren’t they? We must keep them quiet if you’re to stay in here a little longer.”

  Connor stepped back but kept a close distance. “What was that alarm? Is everything okay?”

  Nurse Tracy checked the readings on the machine then unhooked the blood pressure cuff from behind my bed and attached it to my arm. “Just a little bit too much excitement,” she answered, narrowing her gaze on my BP readings.

  “I just met my daughter for the first time,” I said, my voice muffled through the mask, my throat dry. “Of course I’m excited.”

  “I understand that, dear. But your heart has taken a severe battering, so we need to keep the excitement to a bare minimum.” She looped her stethoscope around her neck and poured me a glass of water. “I’m going to page Dr Webb, and I’m going to need you to take it nice and easy while I’m gone.”

  “She will,” Connor reaffirmed.

  Continuing to stare at Christina, I didn’t even notice when Tracy left the room. My little princess was so angelic and all-consuming.