A nasty blow to her head.
Swelling on her brain.
A coma.
Brain damage.
Blood transfusions.
Critical.
Each word is a stab in the chest. I've barely moved an inch from this chair. I've drifted in and out of sleep, and my hand has been in hers from the moment they allowed me into her room. It's like a fishbowl, two walls made up of windows, allowing everyone in ICU visual access to my wife. While her skin has taken on more color after the endless transfusions, she's still not awake. There are wires everywhere, machines surrounding her. There's barely enough room for me beside her bed. The CT scan yesterday evening revealed no improvement, just like yesterday morning's scan. No reduction of swelling, and though I'm trying to be hopeful, I know it's unlikely this morning's scan will show any signs of improvement, either.
It's been two days. I need to see my babies. I have to reassure them that Mommy's going to be okay, that she'll wake up soon and we'll all go home together. Even if I have no idea whether it's true. The sting at the back of my eyes forces me to close them before any more tears can escape. I've stalled letting them come here, hoping and praying that the doctors will give me news so I won't have to lie to my children. But the news I've hoped for hasn't come, and I can't stall any longer.
It's time to face my responsibilities and give my kids what they need.
Me. Their Momma.
I'm just so fucking crushed that I can't give them their Mommy, too.
When my phone alerts me to a text from Elizabeth, I force myself to drop Roseanne's hand and get up out of the chair. My muscles scream their protest, my bones cracking. After dropping a soft kiss on Roseanne's forehead, I walk down the corridor to the café where I've arranged to meet her parents with the kids. I hear both of the twins before I see them. Two voices calling my name. I come to a stop, seeing their faces for the first time in too long. It takes everything in me not to drop to my knees. I'm fucking broken, but I can't let them see that.
Maddie and Jacob crash into me and throw their arms around my waist, cuddling me fiercely, each of their faces buried in my chest. The feel of them against me offers a mild comfort. For the most part, my dread has tripled, because now they're here. Now I have to be a parent and comfort my babies once I've delivered the blow that I know will shatter their worlds.
'Where's Mom?' Jacob asks into my chest. 'Nan says she's sick. Too sick to see us.'
I close my eyes, clenching them tightly. 'She's going to be okay.' I grate the words, not just for the twins, but for me, too. 'Trust your Momma. She is going to be okay.'
'I want to see her.' Maddie breaks away from me, her face blotchy from tears. 'Please, Momma.'
This suddenly doesn't feel like a good idea. Roseanne doesn't look like herself. She doesn't look like their Mom. I crouch down in front of her, taking my little girl's hand. 'Darling, I don't think... she's...' I clear my throat, pulling myself together to get the words out even and strong. 'Mom's not herself. She lost a lot of blood, so she's very pale. Very weak.'
Maddie's chin trembles, and I look at Elizabeth, shaking my head. I can't let them see her like that. Look what it's done to me. I'm barely holding myself together.
'You can't stop us,' Jacob yells, stepping back. 'She's our Mom.'
My exhausted body lets me down, and before I can stop him, Jacob takes off down the corridor, Maddie quick on his heels. I drag myself up, watching as my boy slows to let his sister catch up before taking her hand and leading her on. The fact that they don't know exactly where Roseanne's room is won't faze my babies. Like me, they are determined. They have a sixth sense when it comes to Roseanne, too. They'll sniff her out in no time at all.
