Secrets Left Neglected

Chapter 68

Caoilainn

I lay my pregnancy journal face-down on the nearby lace-covered end table and turn off the lamp sitting next to me. I reach down to circle my hands around my swollen belly, ending up on top to rub over the little ledge formed by what I'm sure is the baby's backside. His or her little feet like to march around, trying to find room in the ever-shrinking inside of my womb. I adjust my seat to try to find comfort as I wrap the soft wool blanket in a cocoon around us. No matter how much I try, I cannot get comfortable.

I take a deep breath and I let it out with a sigh as I stand. I feel a slight pinch in my back and reach behind as best I can in my current condition to try to alleviate the stiffness I feel. I close my eyes and take a minute to collect my thoughts.

Maybe I'll take a walk outside to clear my head. I start to walk towards the door, grabbing a wrap off the peg by it as I go. I can almost feel my grandmother's presence as I wrap her old shawl around my body, hugging my stomach within its warm embrace. I smile when I realize the scent of her Jean Naté soap still lingers in the threads. She must have put some on right before she wore this last.

I am finding the days to be growing shorter and shorter the longer my confinement goes on. As if Mother Nature herself is in tune with my pregnancy, I can feel the foreshadow of long winter months as we walk our way into the new fall season. I watch a shiny, yellow leaf fall from a nearby tree and wonder if I should have painted the nursery that color, instead of blue. Perhaps being a child of fall calls for a fall colored-room.

Then again I read somewhere that people cry more often in yellow rooms than in any other such colored room so quickly discount the idea and feel satisfied with what's been chosen. Even though it's pastel blue it will be perfect for either a boy or a girl. I wanted something cool and calming for this little one. He or she seems full of energy, bouncing around all day long in there.

Oiy.

My poor ribs are sore from all of his or her stretching.

I'm looking forward to finding out what I'm having. When the doctor performed the ultrasound she couldn't tell what his or her gender was. Something about the awkward position the baby was in. The baby looked healthy, though, so I was happy none-the-less. I'll be thrilled no matter who comes to us. I can't wait to meet her or him; to finally know who this child is going to be; our son or daughter.

A light breeze dances across the field and gently touches my cheek like a caress from my love long gone. Mother Nature feels lonely today and I sympathize.

It's been months since I've heard from Tadhg. Numerous social workers and doctors have called the house on his behalf. It's always the same outcome, however. They tell me they're found him and ask me to come get him. I lose my mind racing to get wherever he is, only to get there and find out he's gone again.

I reach up to wipe away a tear before it can escape and fall. My emotions surprise me, coming on so swiftly.

"A leanbh, a chroí," I whisper rubbing the baby through my taught skin.

"Where is he?" I think aloud.

"Tadhg, where are you? We need you," I cry to myself quietly. "Please come back to us. Cronaím thú."

As another tear runs down my other cheek, I feel the first touch of light rain hit my shoulder. Mother Nature is crying with me today.

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Irish Translations:

"A leanbh" sounds like "ah lan-uv" and means, "My child".

"A chroí  " sounds like "ah khree" and means, "My heart".

"Cronaím thú" sounds like "Crow-nim too" and means, "I miss you".