taraji h.
1 month later...
i was pacing back and forth. not because i'm nervous, but because every time she wince, i wanna crawl into her skin and carry the pain for her.
"breathe, mama" i whispered, brushing the curls off her forehead. "you got it."
she nodded. her lips parted but no sound was coming out yet. just breathing. she's focused. the way she always is when something matters to her. the monitor is beeping slow beside the bed and every few minutes, that contractions rolls through. i see it before she says a word. her fingers tighten on the side rails, her jaws clench, and her body curls just a little.
"how far apart now?" solange asks from the corner.
"six centimeters" the nurse answered.
i looked down at her.
"six?" bey whispers, eyes fluttering open. "you sure? it feel like ten."
"i know, baby. i know." i kiss her forehead. "you doing good though. just breathe."
her mama is on the other side of the bed, holding a cool rag to bey neck.
"you remind me so much of me," she says, half laughing through the tears. "stronger, even."
beyoncé didn't respond. she just squeezes my hand tighter.
her dad is by the window with his arms folded. he keep pretending to check his phone, but he been staring out at the parking lot for the last twenty minutes. i think it's his way of not falling apart.
my own parents are on the little bench near the back wall.
"you need anything?" i asked bey.
"just you" she mumbled.
"then you got me" i whispered back. "all the way."
another contraction hit her. this one's mean. i see it ripple through her like a wave she didn't expect. she cried out and all of us moved even closer. i held her hand tighter, pressing my forehead to hers just so I could breathe with her. her mom rubbed her back, solange grabbed a towel, and the nurse adjusted the IV.
it's a whole village in here. nobody saying much. just... surrounding her.
this woman is about to bring life into the world and i know what it took for her to trust her body to do that. i know what it took for her to trust me and i'll never forget it.
"almost there, pretty." i whisper, more to myself than to her.
something in me won't sit still. not fear. not doubt. just... something. something that hasn't taken shape yet. i try to ignore it because right now she's still glowing and our baby is still coming.
***
"okay, beyoncé, on the next contraction, i want you to bear down and push for ten seconds, alright?"
the doctor instructed. bey turns her face into my chest for a second, her breath hot and trembling. i placed a kiss to the crown of her head, then eased her back gently so she can focus. her legs are up now, nurse on one side, solange on the other. her mom backed up with her hand over her mouth, tears already falling.
"you ready, mama?" i murmur, brushing her cheek.
"i think so" she breathes out, voice shaking.
"you are" i promised her, pressing our foreheads together.
the next contraction came down like thunder.
she screamed loudly this time. not because she scared, but because her body is opening. she pushed, face red, jaw clenched, sweat sliding down her neck. the nurse counts out loud.
"ten... nine... eight..."
i whisper with the count. her hand crushed mine but i don't say nothing. i want her to know i'll never let go.
"five... four..."
"come on, baby" i whisper. "just like that. push through it. you got this."
"three... two... and breathe!"
she collapses back into the pillows with a sob, chest heaving.
"good," the doctor nods. "good progress. again when the next one comes."
i wipe her face gently, trying to blink back the sting behind my eyes.
another push. she's trembling now, but she keeps going. beyoncé knows how to dig deep. knows how to show up for what matters, and right now, our baby is what matters.
"i can't—"
"yes, you can" i whisper, kissing her temple. "you are. do it for them. do it for us."
she nodded once and when the next contraction hit, she screamed but still pushed with everything she had left. silence falls except for the sound of her breath and the doctor's voice.
"i see the head."
"that's it, beyoncé, keep going—"
and that's when everything slows. i see her eyes flutter open, searching for mine.
"one more, mama. just one."
she nodded then pushed... there was silence. the doctor's face was saying what his mouth couldn't. they moved fast... a nurse whispered something. someone else presses a button then a soft alarm sounds.
the cries we expected? don't come. and my soul... my soul drops.
i didnt even realize i let go of her hand until she gasped. "raji...?"
i can't answer or can't speak. i just look toward where the doctor is holding our baby, and all i see is stillness.
i don't hear anything. no cries. no coos. nothing.. just this heavy, smothering silence.
bey is panting beside me, still holding her legs up, waiting to hear the sound every mother waits for. i can feel her searching the room with her eyes, trying to focus through the exhaustion and pain.
"raji..." her voice cracks. "why they not—why ain't they saying nothing?"
i can't answer her because i don't know how to say i don't hear them either. the doctor's whispering now. nurses moving in rhythm. a tiny, too small body is being lifted across the room. swaddled quickly. touched gently. i see a flash of that soft brown skin, the shape of a tiny foot but no movement and no sound.
"what's wrong?" bey pushed herself up with all the strength she has left. "what's wrong!?"
i grab her hand again, but my eyes are on the baby. our baby.
the nurse turns, voice low, almost afraid. "we're doing everything we can. just give us a moment, okay?"
"what does that mean?" beyoncé cried, panic rising in her voice. her other hand is clutching at her chest like she can't breathe. "what the hell does that mean!?"
"bey, breathe" i say, sliding my arm around her. "look at me."
she doesn't even attempt to. her eyes are locked on the table where they're working. "no, no, no–don't do this."
solange is in the corner with her hand over her mouth. tina's crying openly now. matthew sits down like someone knocked the wind out of him. and my own parents? silent, but still shaken up.
"what's the baby's name?" one of the nurses asks. she's trying to keep things calm. like naming them might bring them back.
"sky." i said lowly, "her name is sky."
the nurse nods once. and then... stops working. she steps back. the monitor is flat and the silence is final and just like that... our baby is gone. i feel bey collapse into me, her body wracked with sobs so deep it sounds like they're coming from the center of the earth. i hold her. i rock her. i bury my face in her hair and try to keep my own tears quiet, but they don't listen. they fall anyway.
no one moved or spoke. we came here to meet our child, and now we have to leave without them.
