the sitter | lewandowski

thirty one

31 // too young

"they say that the world was built for two; only worth living is somebody is loving you."

//

Saoirse didn't make it.

Well, she did—but by a bare miracle, for lack of better word. She'd chosen the baby over herself, and was now fading in and out of conscience; the doctor said that she would likely go into a coma, and everyone knew how those were destined to turn out.

Robert didn't know what to do. He had gotten the call at nearly three in the morning on the day of his 28th birthday, and the doctor was hurriedly saying that Saoirse had already given birth and that she was losing a lot of blood, so if he wanted to say any final words to her, he should come now. But by the time he'd gotten there, Saoirse had passed out, and Robert was left with no one to keep him company but the nurses and his newborn daughter.

"She's a healthy girl," The midwife noted, as she sat besides him. "And beautiful, too. You should be proud."

Robert ran his thumb over the baby's cheek, nodded sadly, and looked over to Saoirse. "I am."

"She's waking up now," A nurse commented. Robert immediately stood a little and watched Saoirse open her eyes and move around, uncomfortably.

"Can I speak to her?"

"Of course." The nurses moved away.

"In private?" He added, politely. Slowly, the nurses all filed out of the room; Robert sat on the stool next to Saoirse's bed and held their child in one arm while the other found her forehead. "Your forehead is hot." He finally blurted, unsure of what else to say without bursting into tears.

Saoirse sighed and spoke, her voice barely there. "I have a fever. I'm glad you came."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, you could've ignored the call, or something. After all, it's three in the morning."

"I was at the office, actually." He sighed.

Saoirse held her arms out, sat up, and motioned to the baby. "A girl? A boy?"

"A girl. She's gorgeous." Robert paused, turned the corners of his lips up, and spoke. "Do you want to see her?"

"No," Saoirse responded, "I couldn't bear to. I mean what's the point, if I won't be there for the rest of her life?"

"Saoirse, come on." Robert frowned. "You don't have to believe you'll make it, but you can at least hope you will, try to, and be positive."

Saoirse let out a breath. "Alright, I'll see her. But I can't hold her, I'm too weak and I don't want to drop her."

Robert placed their daughter on Saoirse's lap so that she could look at her, and absentmindedly spoke. "She looks like you. You can barely tell I'm the father."

"Well, she has your eyes." Saoirse was paralyzed with happiness as she pushed her hair behind her ears, "And I know she's yours, because she's so beautiful. She got it all from you."

"Oh, hush." Robert grinned. "I'm nothing next to you."

Saoirse gazed up at her boyfriend, then at her daughter. "Quit making me blush. What do you want to name her?"