Debra slowly and challengingly opened her eyes and gazed in a pair of green ones. They had little crowfoot at each end and somehow Debra recognized a smile in them.
“How do wewe feel, dear?” the old woman asked. Confused, disoriented.
“Am I back in the hospital?” Debra asked hoarse.
“No, dear, you’re not” the woman answered kind. “Not anymore. The doctors did a curettage- that’s something they do to clean wewe up inside-and then I could take wewe nyumbani with me. wewe fell asleep on the ride home. You’ve slept for days”
“Why do I have so much pain?” Debra asked and her face changed as she moved on th bed.
The older woman reached out her hand, but Debra pulled hers away. “You have been through a very traumatic experience” she started careful.
Debra frowned her eyebrows as she lay her hand on her stomach. To her devastation it was flat. “My baby, where’s my baby?” she asked agitated.
“Your baby is no longer with us” the woman alisema soft.
“Where’s my baby?” Debra repeated, rocking back and forth on the bed.
“He’s with the good Lord” the woman said. “He’s salama and happy”
Debra looked up at her, her chest heaving. “Will wewe take me to my baby?”
The woman reached out her hand and this time Debra reluctantly accepted it. The woman brought her outside, to the backyard. They stopped at a small kuvuka, msalaba at a bila mpangilio spot in the grass. “If wewe want to” she started careful, “you can write his name on it”
For several dakika they stood there, looking at the grave of Deb’s dead born son. What would Dale say if he heard he was the father of a deceased child? Would he even care? Would he care that she had to sleep in a park and get her chakula from a container? Would he care that she’d had to give birth on the pavers?
Completely unexpected Debra jumped on the older woman. “You killed my baby! wewe killed my baby!” she cried continuous, while she slapped the woman as hard as possible.
“How do wewe feel, dear?” the old woman asked. Confused, disoriented.
“Am I back in the hospital?” Debra asked hoarse.
“No, dear, you’re not” the woman answered kind. “Not anymore. The doctors did a curettage- that’s something they do to clean wewe up inside-and then I could take wewe nyumbani with me. wewe fell asleep on the ride home. You’ve slept for days”
“Why do I have so much pain?” Debra asked and her face changed as she moved on th bed.
The older woman reached out her hand, but Debra pulled hers away. “You have been through a very traumatic experience” she started careful.
Debra frowned her eyebrows as she lay her hand on her stomach. To her devastation it was flat. “My baby, where’s my baby?” she asked agitated.
“Your baby is no longer with us” the woman alisema soft.
“Where’s my baby?” Debra repeated, rocking back and forth on the bed.
“He’s with the good Lord” the woman said. “He’s salama and happy”
Debra looked up at her, her chest heaving. “Will wewe take me to my baby?”
The woman reached out her hand and this time Debra reluctantly accepted it. The woman brought her outside, to the backyard. They stopped at a small kuvuka, msalaba at a bila mpangilio spot in the grass. “If wewe want to” she started careful, “you can write his name on it”
For several dakika they stood there, looking at the grave of Deb’s dead born son. What would Dale say if he heard he was the father of a deceased child? Would he even care? Would he care that she had to sleep in a park and get her chakula from a container? Would he care that she’d had to give birth on the pavers?
Completely unexpected Debra jumped on the older woman. “You killed my baby! wewe killed my baby!” she cried continuous, while she slapped the woman as hard as possible.