A Series of Letters and Stories

Since you are reading this and I am new here I should conduct an introduction.

I am remaining un-named for many reasons. Mostly out of fear. These letters that I write, and the stories that I share are personal. Even if one is not MINE to claim, I only share them if I can relate, in some aspect, to it.

So many people struggle with coming to terms with their truth. Even when (if) we talk to someone, that experience, never actually leaves us. If anything, it makes it more real. For some, saying what is trapped inside, does not help...but, of course, a caged bird will still sing sometimes.

I grew up as a Bibliophile. Words on a page would take me everywhere I never knew I wanted to go and places I could only dream about. Even a non-fiction story I could create, in my own way.

With all that being said I am using this as a way to uncage the dragons in my head in a form that is comforting to me instead of saying the words outloud.

As this develops I welcome others to share with me. A story from their past, or present that they carry. A letter you've written to yourself, a lost child or a demon that took something away from you? Anything.

Dear Peace,

I hope this finds you well.

I thought about writing this as a poem. Put all my feelings and thoughts about these moments, this experience, into perfectly balanced stanzas. Correct pauses, some rhythm and rhyme.

But that would be too neat. Nothing about myself is neat. I even said that with my face all messed up.

Poetry is like a song. Music is something I love, even at it's most dark and sorrowful. I don't want this to be in that place. When I hear a melody it brings up memories, or almost memories. I don't like to be reminded of this. I am hoping these words will bring an end to the memories.

Or at the very least bring it peace?

Peace. Yes. That IS why I am writing this. To bring peace. For someone to "find peace," I feel one must be, or have been haunted.

I am haunted by the smells and the sounds of this day...and the days before it. I now live in a purgatorious kind of state. I am so twisted up I am creating words that don't exist just to find SOMETHING.

anything.

For some reason one of the biggest triggers of this day is the smells.

Unscented Nivea hand cream.

I was nervously kneading that into my hands as I sat in the waiting room. I, of course, put too much on. It wasn't needed. But, I didn't know what else to do. I could text someone! No. Nobody knew, not yet. I could play a game! No. I only have 11% battery. The TV in the "lounge" was on the second lap of Medical facts and commercials. I have read every magazine in here already in the last 8 weeks, and 5 days...and 4 hours. But, who's keeping track right?

She called my name and the first thing that came to my mind was, "Shit, I have too much lotion on my hands." I tried wiping my hands on the inside of pockets but all I did was manage to get lint stuck in the creases of my knuckles.

She led me to Room 303. She pointed to the thread worn blue gown that I was to wear and handed me a pair of pink socks with the grippies on the foot. She explained where the "lounge" was if I needed water for my pitcher. I thought, "Well seeing as you JUST called me from there I think I can find my way. Thank you!" I smiled.

"Doctor will be in to see you in about 15 minutes and we will get you set up with the heartbeat monitor immediately after that and get you resting. I see the note in your folder that says no visitors. No problem. You are here for 24 hrs. so we do ask for an Emergency Contact number just in case." She left a form on the bed side cart and slipped out of the room.

I had just tied the gown haphazardly around my neck when Doc tapped on the door. I welcomed him in and as he stepped around the curtain 3 nurses came in with a cart. It was stacked with 2 monitors, a shit ton of cables and straps and a small printer that had a ribbon of paper 4 ft. long hanging from it's mouth. He looked annoyed.

"Ladies, let me talk to her first before we hook her up." They all stopped, but still in their bent and stretched positions. I almost laughed. They finally straightened after considering that he wasn't joking and just stepped to the side. He approached the bed and I sat up and moved my blanket and he shook his head. I think he knew I was gesturing if he wanted to sit.

He looked up at me then, and pulled a chair over and sat down. He remembered...and crossed his right leg over his left.

I have watched many Doctors deliver bad news to me. 1. They would be sitting behind a desk and ask (more demand and/or beg) if I wanted to have anyone with me. OR 2. Standing near me with a clipboard in their hand. I told him this 2 visits ago and he laughed at me...but still listened.

"You are about 9 weeks along. You are doing great but you know this isn't going to be an easy road. You will not make it full term, but if you listen and you follow my care, we can make try to make it as far as possible." I nodded. He leaned forward.

He touched my leg that was shaking up and down.

"I need you know, that YOUR safety is most important to me. If I can keep you safe, YOU can keep him or her safe." I nodded.

He stood up.

"Ok ladies, thank you for waiting." Looking at me he said, "I will see you in a few hours to update you on our readings and then I will see you in the AM to set up discharge."

20 minutes later I was hooked up to a monitor. I could see all of my vitals...

...and I heard a whirring sound. I knew that sound.

It was my favorite sound.

I created that sound.

Against all odds...here it was. My child's heartbeat.

I fell asleep.

I have no idea how long I was asleep for but the feeling of nausea hit me like nothing before. I woke up and felt confused and light headed. I couldn't find my glasses and realized I was tethered by all the cords and wires of the monitor. Before that realization hit me I was being pushed back into the pillow by a woman and I was suddenly overwhelmed by so many different beeps and alarms. I could hear the mechanical robotic sound of the printer spitting it's tongue of paper towards the floor.

"It's ok. Just lay back. The Doctor is on his way."

I really just wanted my glasses. I don't know if I asked 8 times or if I just thought it but finally I forced it out of my head, "WHERE ARE MY FRIGGEN GLASSES?!"

I felt the cold plastic familiar arms hug my temples and I blinked.

I stopped moving. I looked up at the monitors and focused.

I could still hear it. The whirring and muffled drumset.

I immediately felt nauseated again. This time with the added sensation of a hummingbird in my chest.

Doc came in as all the nurses were moving things around. Someone, at some point, jabbed an IV in my hand that felt like a garden hose.

"Doc, what happened?" I asked, what seemed way too loud.

What I didn't realize, at the time, that everything I just recalled happened in the course of about 20 minutes. It felt like 5 to me.

I also didn't notice that everyone but 2 nurses, a Respiratory Therapist and the Doctor were the only ones left in my room.

What I did notice was he was sitting. He looked over and nodded and the other people drifted toward the door.

"I need to call someone to be here with you. Who do you want me to call?"

I didn't answer.

I looked over at the monitors and focused. I focused on stopping the blood rushing sounds in my ears so I could filter in what I needed.

I closed my eyes and finally heard it.

It was soft...and so slow.

*Whoosh lub lub * a pause that was way too long... *Whoosh lub lub*

then an even longer pause....*whoosh lub....lub*

I remember the day after the fire ate away my world. I felt like a wandering animal in the winter with no home. I had the same clothes on as the day before. Everyone bustling to and from class. I couldn't make eye contact with anyone. Or maybe I just wouldn't?

It felt like I was underwater all day. I knew people were addressing me but they all sounded muffled and far away. I wanted to be held but couldn't muster the courage to be touched.

I have a bad habit of wiping the memories and sorrow, that would start to pool in my eyes, before they would fall down my face with the sleeve of my shirt. It smelled like soot and hot flames. I would get a whiff of why I was crying all over again.

I was steadfast in my exit from the Cafeteria. eyes down. "Just get to History. Take a deep breath. only 2 hours left." It was a mantra on repeat in my head. A constant countdown, something to cling to.

Anger. I recall anger in this moment. Jealousy maybe? I am uncertain but I still feel the anger that would make my ears turn pink if I acknowledged it. I wanted my brother to be here. I wanted to know I wasn't alone inside these brick walls. But, alas, I was.

I saw the boots first. They made an intentional step to the right and stop right in front of me. I didn't HAVE to look up to know who it was, but I could never stop myself from looking directly in his eyes whenever he around. It was like a magnet. Placed just far enough out of reach, but close enough to slowly drag you to attention.

Before my lips even parted to allow sound to escape his arms were around me. I slipped my arms between his back and his heavy backpack. The sigh, or gasp rather, that left my body was like coming out of the water after grasping for the surface for so long. He smelled like wood, kind of like cedar when it's been in the sunshine, and cotton. He smelled like warmth.

He smelled like home.

There's been many days and nights since that specific day that I have felt like the world has been pulled out from under me. That someone turned off the lights in my head. It's at these times the dragons come out to play.

19 trips around the sun and I can still smell it. He is still the only knight to slay my dragons.