Oceans Of Emma

It was a gorgeous day for the end of December. It was the Christmas season, so the ground was covered in a soft blanket of snow. The now so white and the sky so blue. The scene was ethereal. The warm rays of the sun against my skin with the light shiver of the wind and snow nipping at my feet. It was heaven.
I walked into my baby girl’s nursery room and was met with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Her eyes shined like diamonds. Her smile is bright like the sun and her skin smooth like a sheep’s wool. She was beautiful. I picked her up into my arms and held her gently. She was my world, my everything. I had had a very tough pregnancy and now after months, she was finally home with me in my arms. After so much suffering, she was safe with me and with my husband. Her soft gaze rose to meet my own. Her eyes held a sea of love and compassion. I don’t know what I did to get such a beautiful baby girl.
I lovingly held her in my arms and made my way to a nearby rocking chair in the living room. I took a seat in front of the warm fire and looked at my baby girl. Her little giggles made my eyes water and my heart flutter. God she is so precious. The warmth of the fire and cold from the outside blended into a beautiful harmony. It was dark outside, making the warm stocked fire radiate the room with its bright raze. The mantel is decorated with our stockings. One for my husband, one for me and one for Ellie, my baby girl.
I have always dreamed of being a mother and knew that if I had a girl, I would name her Ellie. Now that she is here, I don’t know what to do. I had always been told that once you have your baby, you never truly realize it. It seems surreal and just plain unbelievable. I have been wanting a baby girl since I was 13 years old. My mother had always described to me how she felt about me when I was born. Saying she had so much to say but nothing good enough and at the same time. I never understood how that felt up until this moment. Knowing exactly what to say but not knowing how to say it or if it would even compare. All I knew is that this baby girl in my arms was all I would ever need. She was my heart, my breath, my soul and my life. Without her, nothing mattered and nothing was more important.
The night slowly began to come to a close as it continued to snow. The inside remained dimly lit and self-loving. I leaned my head back against the headrest of my rocking chair, slowly letting sleep overtake me. My baby had already fallen asleep a few minutes prior, taking the opportunity to snuggle up into my chest. I kissed her head lovingly and sighed contently. What did I do to deserve this? What angel was looking over me? What being out there, looked at me and said, “She deserves her. She deserves this beautiful baby.”
The night had finally fallen, and the trees had turned dark. The shadows sweep the land into darkness. The only light that existed was the low glow of the fire. A bright light shined past the window. My husband was home. His blue sedan pulled into the driveway and cast a light onto the house. I rocked my baby soothingly, turning her away from the bright light. I don’t want her to wake up. I loved her sleeping face, as did my husband. He walked into the house, his nicely tailored suit perfectly hugging his body.
He wore a confused expression and asked as he took off his coat, “Honey, what are you doing?” I quickly placed my index finger over my mouth and shushed him saying, “Baby you need to be quiet. Ellie is sleeping.”
His face fell. Tears began to quickly prick the corners of his eyes. Why was he crying? What was wrong? “Hey baby what’s wrong? Did something happen at work?” Worry laced my face as he slowly stalked by my side and pulled a chair to sit beside me. He looked into my arms at our baby and cried heavily. He lowered his head and continued to cry. I caressed his back and held him as he cried. What in the world was wrong?
He raised his eyes to meet mine. His eyes held overwhelming pain and worry. He didn’t look at Ellie. Why didn’t he look at her? He parted his lips. They slowly quivered as he hoarsely spoke, “Honey, you can’t keep doing this. Our baby’s gone. She died at birth, please it’s hard for me too.’’ “What?” My voice quivered. He had to be joking? Why would he joke about something like this? “What the hell are you talking about? She’s right he…” My eyes fell to my baby’s face. She wasn’t there. All that was in my arms was a blanket. The blanket that was once wrapped around my baby.
Everything faded into black. Memories of my baby’s birth flooding back to me. I had given birth to her, and she had not made it. I insisted on holding her. I looked at her blanket and thought to myself. I still remember holding you for the very first time. I remember looking at you so hard, trying to absorb as much as I could in the little time we had. I remember my instincts were to hold you against my chest and keep you warm, I think a large part of me thought you would wake up. I looked up to see my husband’s eyes. Tears slowly going down my face as I stiffly spoke,
“It didn’t hit me that life would have to go on without her, until I went to bed and realized that tomorrow I will have to wake up and she still won’t be there.” The blanket fell from my arms and my face fell into my hands. I cried heavily as my husband held me in his arms.
“Do you want to go see her?” I nodded weakly as my husband took me into his arms. Softly holding me against his warm chest as he made his way out the door. He sat me down in the car and drove us to the cemetery so that we could see our daughter. We arrived at the cemetery and made our way to her tombstone.
On the way, we saw multiple graves decorated with flowers, wreaths, lights and stockings for Christmas. It was midnight on Christmas eve when we reached her grave at 12:00 in the morning.
“Merry Christmas baby girl,” I said warily. My husband held me in his arms, hugging me into a tight embrace. I looked at her tombstone and read the same words that I repeated to myself every day. An angel wrote in the book of life my baby’s date of birth, then whispered as she closed the book, “too beautiful for Earth.” I often thought that when you’ve lost part of yourself, you live forever in fear that you’ll lose again. My husband spoke softly, words that he had said after we had arrived home and words that he had continued to say when I needed.
“The world is often uncomfortable with space, as sitting with a void means sitting with pain. They may even encourage the bereaved to try to replace the person that once lived, as they wrongly assume that people are interchangeable. Once you journey through loss however, you long for this sacred space to be honored, talked about and acknowledged. You recognize that no space can be filled with another, as each is uniquely shaped, and only fits the individual that once occupied it… So, on death and in the future, the space sits, it waits, it aches, and it will always be present.”
I don’t know where he heard that from or if he was speaking from the heart. All I knew was that we were in this together. Through every win and every loss. Through every trial and tribulation, we could come out on the other side together, just as we did when we were first faced with them.
He gently kissed my head and turned around, heading back to the car. This was his way of saying. I’m here for you. I know you need your time alone with her. I looked back at his silhouette and couldn’t help but think that the only reason I was still here was because of him. Because he was the one that stuck around.
I turned back to my baby’s grave and knelt down beside it. I quietly whispered the same words I think of every time I miss her. An angel on earth, now stands with God in heaven.