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Annabelle

Sally Mitchell

    It’s amazing how tiny a baby can be and at just 5 months my Annabelle was the tiniest baby I’d ever seen – like the little toy dolls I’d played with as a child. Except those dolls didn’t have wires and tubes coming out of what seemed like every orifice. She was just too tiny and weak to make any progress and her poor little lungs just didn’t have any fight. We’d tried. We’d prayed, we’d done everything any loving family could, but nothing had worked. Dr Sanders had cried too when she told us there was nothing more they could do.
    I wrapped Annabelle her in the little elephant blanket that we’d bought just a few short months before and let my tears splash down on her delicate head as I hugged her close to me. It made her little eyes crinkle and she moaned. She nestled towards me looking for my milk and I looked towards the Doctor who nodded. We both knew it was hopeless, but a mothers’ love never dies.
    I took her to my breast and she tried her best to feed. Behind me, Jake sobbed. I could feel him shaking as his hand reached over and stroked her hair. I didn’t have it in me to comfort him too. Not right now – perhaps that made me a bad person, I don’t know, but right now I wanted a little moment with my Annabelle. A little moment to say goodbye.
    I could feel Dr Sanders eyes on me - waiting, questioning, but I wouldn’t meet them. I just wanted another minute. Just one more minute, but then Jakes hand was on my shoulder squeezing me. I still wouldn’t look. I shook my head.
    ‘No!’ I spluttered through snot and tears.
    ‘Jane, It’s time!’ Jake snuffled, stroking my hair now.
    ‘Just one more minute. Please.’
    ‘We’ve had an hour, Jane. We need to let her go, let her be with Nanna Mo.’ His voice cracked.
    My Jake! How could he say this? Didn’t he want her to live? I knew that was unfair as soon as the thought arose, but how do you say goodbye? How can anyone? A minute would never be enough, nor an hour or a lifetime. I knew that and what better way to go that at your mother’s breast, safe and warm and loved. Oh! how she was loved.
    I nodded to Dr Sanders.
    I didn’t dare look as I heard the click, click, click of the machines being turned off one by one.
    Her little breaths became shallow and her skin became paler and paler. The gradual bleep, bleep of the monitor became one long horrific tone. My body wracked with silent sobs and behind me Jake wrapped his arms around us both. I shut my eyes then. Just willing to feel a breath against my breast. Breathe, baby girl just breathe. I prayed silently. I prayed to god, I prayed to Allah, to Brahma to Zeus to Jesus. I even prayed to the stars in the sky. Just breathe, baby girl. Just Breathe.
    Seconds passed. Minutes – hell it could have been hours for all I cared and then I heard the footsteps across the room. They were going to take my baby!
    Breathe, Annabelle! Please just breathe for mummy! I imagined her riding her bike, arguing with her older brother, rolling her eyes and slamming doors and hugging us and laughing and dancing and playing andÉ.. just living.
    She didn’t breathe!
    I felt Dr Sanders take her tiny body from me and I raised my hands to stop her, but Jake held me tight. He knew I’d never willingly let her go. The sound of his sobbing in my ear was overwhelming. High pitched and wailing – or was that me. I’d never known either of us could make such a sound, but grief does strange things. But then another sound. Beep Beep Beep. It sounded likeÉ.
    A tiny wriggling body being placed back in my arms. My eyes shot open and there was my Annabelle wailing through her strong lungs. Her little face crinkled, tears streaming down her face, her arms flailing wildly – Breathing
     ‘It seems you have yourself a fighter right there!’ Dr Saunder’s said, wiping away a tear of her own.
    We did. Our Baby Girl! Never has a mother or father been prouder as the day our Annabelle breathed for herself.

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