Cry Beautiful

How did we get here? Nobody is supposed to be here. I thought. It  was unusually quiet today, and my baby couldn’t sit still or be comforted with nyonyo…”Hush now Laila mpenzi ssshhh … But she let out a loud wail as if to mock me “just so you know it’s painful mummy!” Only that poor mama couldn’t tell what or where hurt the little girl the most. She was livid!

Anyhow, after a while she finally gobbled at the large breast to calm herself. “You know what’s best Laila, don’t you? ” I cooed relieved to breastfeed my baby. “Mmmh …” the sick child mumbled in agreement, as she relished her sweet milk and managed to drift away in sweet slumber. It would only be a while before our turn to see the doctor came. Hopefully she would stay calm.

The woman right across us was pretty. She was captivating in plain sight. I mean she had such smooth skin and beautiful full lips. Her boobs sat firmly in her sheer blouse in a white camisole. No Bra. Just bare boobies so firm like ripe oranges on a tree, waiting to be picked. Tears flowed freely from her pretty eyes, and she did not bother to wipe them away.

When our eyes locked, she quickly looked away and frowned as if to let me know it’s wrong to stare and I should mind my own damn business. But I could not help it, how could such a lovely lady cry. Who made her so gloomy with so much pain in her soul? You could tell it was a somewhat deep, soulful kind of hurt. It came from the heart. Life must have been terrible. I looked away, minding my own and turned to my right. No one on that side, so it was safe to stare.

 The doctor’s door was ajar, and I could see the patient that sat on the visitor’s chair. She had a neat bun held up high on her head. And the red pumps, I looove red pumps worn with matching cherry lipstick. She sure looked swell this one. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I wondered what brought her to see the doctor so early, so dolled up looking fresh like wild lilies in the summer. Fresh is good in a hosi, I thought. Before I could turn and look the other way, miss red pumps hurriedly stood up and left the doctor’s office.

My little Laila winced, and I almost forgot she had abandoned my breast and I’d left it uncovered the whole time! Motherhood I swear!

Miss red pumps sat next to the pretty doll. She looked concerned as she read the piece of paper in her hand. She stared at it a bit longer. I wondered how many words it contained. Undoubtedly, it was too small for more than fifty words at most.

Maybe she needed to commune with the words. Contemplate and figure out what life was supposed to be like after the shocking revelation from our doctor. I say “our” because we would eventually go in, in a few, Laila and me. For a doctor’s report, and perhaps, a positive review when we come out. I wondered if she’d write me a mysterious note too.

Laila was smiling in her sleep now. I guess the angels were talking to her and feeding her lots of breast milk. After all, what goals do infants have besides relishing milk? Overflowing jugs full of natural goodness.

 I wonder if them kids on formula see angels in their sleep. (DISCLAIMER: This is not certified by any God-fearing Apostle).

Anyways, back to miss pumps. The doctor stepped out of her room, and I was supposed to go in next. Hujuma! It was my turn, but she chose to extend the consultative forum outside of her office. I felt cut. Not fair!

“It’s good that you’re both here,” she said to the two lovelies’ right across us. “I am sorry for both your losses; we can schedule more appointments if you like, separately of course.”  It is as if the doctor had said something mystifying, miss pumps and the doll looked at each other, distraught and shaken. None of that mattered in the next episode that followed.

The two women hugged, and just sat there, in what seemed like an eternity of marasmus fever. Like an electric shock, they shivered and buried their heads in each other, crying so sympathetically, agonisingly. Doctor Noor joined in on the sorrow, and she too cried like a baby. You could almost hear the sobs, prayers, sorries, you know, the comfort that goes along with weeping.

Laila was not fazed. She was sound asleep. I couldn’t take it anymore; I carefully placed her on the bench (I know! Not cool), but whatever, they needed me over there.

 I dashed over and hovered over the three women and my soul in sync, I found myself in tears, sobbing and hushing the lovelies with so many am sorries. As if cautioned by an alarm, we all let go in unison.

 “Hi, my name is Fay,” I quickly introduced myself. “I’m Bernice,” said the pretty girl. “And I’m Kassy,” said miss pumps. Doctor Noor Hassan did not need to introduce herself; we all were well acquainted with her. “They lost their babies, first time for Bernice, and a third time for Kassy.

It’s been a tough trimester for both of them.” “Ooh noooo, shoot! I’m terribly, terribly, sorry ladies, I cut in. I had no idea!” Silly me, I really felt bad and helpless for the two women. In an instant, I suddenly remembered Laila on the bench and was torn between her and my new friends. “It’s okay, go, Kassy said, shooing me away to check on my daughter. Can I hold her? Please,” offered Bernice, I know she’s asleep but can I just hold her for a bit, I’ll be gentle.”

 “Oh Lord, what now, what if she refuses to let go.” I slowly picked my sleeping child, and it’s as if Doctor Noor sensed my reservation, she asked to hold the baby first, then passed her on to Bernice, who took the child in her arms gently. “She’s so beautiful …,” both women said in agreement, Kassy hovering over and pushing back the shawl to have a look. They both giggled and just stared at Laila, cooing her, and touching her little fingers.

“Can we have coffee later in the week, the four of us?” Offered doctor Noor. Yea, that’s a good idea, awesome! I surely need a break …. We all agreed hastily.  In that instant we became friends. It’s as if the tragedy never happened and we stuck together like glue.

We have loved each other since. It has been only five years but who is counting, right? Both Bernice and Kassy had their babies a few years later, and we still cry over that day at the hospital.

We are all mothers now.

 Happy mother’s day to all women going through trials of all kinds. You too shall overcome one day.