The nursery

The empty nursery

There is an empty room in the busy city of Paris . Once, it was meant to be a nursery.

A layer of dust is on everything. If anyone were to open the door, the hinges would creek from disuse. Not that anyone has disturbed it. The rug was once made of bright colors, but they have faded because of the sunlight filtering through the grimy window.

The dresser is full of clothing of all colors. Shirts, pants, shoes and cute little hats, that were never to grace a small head. A blanket rests on top, white and purple with red dots . It had been quite the novelty, a gift from a young woman .

A cradle rests in the center of the room. Empty and unused, it has sat there for years. There are sheets in it, laying to welcome a new life, to envelope it in kindness and love. They were white, once.

A stuffed dog sits on the dirty windowsill. It is somewhat lopsided and doesn't sit straight. It's expression is utterly bored, and the teeth are just slightly too large to be considered cute. It wears a blue jacket, and a painstakingly accurate ribbon is stitched on its head, sewn by hands more experienced with a knife to cook than a needle.

Next to the dog is a set of red glasses , more of an homage than anything else. Maybe the baby would have used them when he was older. But they gather dust now, forgotten.

Once, this room was filled with happy noises. Diapers were stored in the closet, with several comments that maybe there were enough all ready. Once, a pretty woman sat in the rocking chair in the corner, reading to a child that couldn't yet hear her. Once, a man stood by a window all night, worried that he might wake to find the lady gone Once, or maybe twice, his friends would be run to the room , until even the most was certain that this baby and the mother would be as safe as was possible.
Once this room held love and joy, and oh so much hope.

But now, this room is forgotten, its inhabitants ghosts of memories. There is no family to welcome a baby home. The blanket will never keep anyone warm through the night. The rocking chair will never hold a parent late into the night as they beg the baby to sleep. There will be no feedings, no friends cooing over the cradle, and no CCTV guarding from the window. No child will hug the dog tight in a nightmare, and no child will grow into the red glasses . There will be no playing with blocks or temper tantrums or books read to tatters. The window will never be broken, and nothing will ever be spilled on the rug.

The lady who once prayed for her baby to kick now knew that her child was gone.1

There is an empty room in Paris . Once, it was meant to be a nursery

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Soo this one is a sad story idea and in the second last line it is said "the lady who once prayed for her baby to kick now knew that her child is gone" states that as
after 20 weeks , less movement also can be a sign that there's less amniotic fluid surrounding the baby or that the placenta is not functioning correctly. So it's not something to ignore. If you had been feeling movement but go more than four hours without feeling any movements,a sad news is usually on the way
Well I hope no parent goes through this with. Their child .