Perrie
"Hey, Perrie. Can I get you something?"
I can't believe this happened to Her. I'm stuck. I've been stuck for the past few days. Since Sam called me. She and Leigh had to take the kids, because I just couldn't. I couldn't do anything. I still can't. I can't even tell you the last time I've moved from this spot on the couch in her room.
"Perrie?"
I keep cycling between getting angry, and crying. Wondering if there was something I could have done that day to make her stay home. Then we wouldn't be here. I really really wish she'd just stayed home that day.
Then again, that would've meant that Kai would be where she is right now, and I don't want that either. I wouldn't wish this in anyone.
"Perrie? Are you hungry?" I come back to my senses when I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's not the hand that I want to feel though, so it doesn't make me feel any less alone. "You haven't had anything to eat all day."
"I'm okay. Thanks." I reply quietly.
It's Sam. I don't know if she even hears me. It's hard to speak when you're choking up every second of the day.
"She would want to know you've been eating, babe." She says gently.
I have had a hard time eating. I haven't had much of an appetite. It's been rough. Really rough. I'm reminded of our little one growing inside of me that I have to take care of, and that's the only thing that's really making me eat.
You know what I want? Her to be the one asking me if I'm hungry. Her to be the one making sure I'm eating. I want Her.
"I'll take something." I say, once again remembering our baby that I'm carrying when I feel a little kick.
I put my hand on the spot, and it brings me to tears. She should be feeling this. She loved this part of my pregnancy. She called it playing Patty Cake with her baby. I may not be hungry, but our baby needs nutrition, and they've only got me to give it to them.
"Okay, I'll go get you something. Do you have a taste for anything in particular?" Sam asks, and I just shake my head, still softly rubbing the spot on my belly where the baby just kicked. Then I feel another kick.
She leaves the room, and I look down at my belly. Our baby is getting big. My eyes move from my hands on my belly, then slide to the floor. Then they slide over and follow the chords that are hooked up to the machines in front of me. The IV and other machines that are all connected to my love. Then I look at Her.
She's got tubes and wires coming from everywhere, and everything is beeping. It's such an empty, haunting sound. Everyday I just want to snatch them all away, but I know that would hurt her. It's so hard to look at. Not for the faint of heart at all, and up until I realized that I was the one who had to be strong and be here for her every day, I was the faint of heart.
I miss her so much it hurts. I miss her eyes. I miss her smile. I just want to hear her voice. It's been too long since I've heard her voice. I struggle a bit, but I stand up and go over to her. I carefully lift her head and fluff her pillow, then I pull the blankets up to her neck so she doesn't get cold. I don't know if she feels the temperature or anything at all right now, but just in case.
For a while at first, she was on a ventilator too. I really thought I was losing her. I was sick every day about it, but my baby's tough. She's a fighter. I should've known not to doubt her. When she started to breathe on her own about a month ago, I knew she was fighting. I could've never given up on her.
Now she just looks like she's sleeping. She's always been so beautiful when she sleeps. I've always said that she just looks like she's at peace, and I love seeing her so relaxed.
