Sketchbook

Chapter 10

     It was July 13: my birthday. Mother and Father bought me a few presents including lots of baby clothes, diapers, and other important necessities for my little man. Father would spoil me by giving me massages on my back and feet. Mother went out to buy food, so we could chill in the house and watch movies while we eat. It was the best and worst birthday ever. It would've been just the best and not the worst if the baby would stop kicking every five seconds, but it is what it is, I guess.
It was two weeks prior when I found out that Gabrielle had went missing. I still hadn't received any type of message or call from her, but I just prayed that she was at least alive and safe out there somewhere.
My depression was getting worse and worse everyday. I was afraid that my baby was being harmed by this. Luckily, at all of my appointments, the doctors said that he's still doing okay. The poor thing is going through just as much as me. I've still been seeing Dr. Carla for my depression, and unfortunately, I was soon put on antidepressants. They put me on SSRIs which, apparently, isn't harmful to my baby, so I wasn't too worried about that. It just almost felt like the antidepressants were making me even more depressed when I took them which wasn't making things easier for me and actually, it was quite pointless.
I started having dreams about Gabrielle. Actually, I've been having this reoccurring dream of her. Every night, I would dream that we're sitting on my bed, and I'm cradling her while she's crying loudly. She keeps apologizing to me for some reason, and that's it. That's the dream. I asked my parents multiple times if we can go look for her, but because my water could break any day now, that clearly wasn't a good idea which only upset me more knowing I couldn't do anything about it.
     Despite knowing she won't answer me, I continued to leave messages just to make me feel better.

"Hey, hope you're staying safe."
"I miss you a lot, you know."
"I hope you come back soon. It sucks without you here."
"Love you, girl."

My pregnancy was getting much more difficult now that I'm hanging off the cliff of labor. I can no longer wear any of my clothes. I'm having to wear oversized sweaters, sweatpants, and I can hardly ever put my shoes on because I can't bend over anymore. I either have to ask Mother or Father to help me put them on or just put slides on. I rarely ever leave the house anyway, so it's not much of a big problem.
One day, I ended up breaking down in front of Father over the fact that I'm going to be raising this child all on my own, and it terrifies me. We were in the living room, and he was rubbing my shoulders when he heard me sniffling. He turned me slightly to notice tears running down my face.
"Sweetheart..." he said before turning me around completely and burying my face in his shoulder wrapping his arms around me. "What's bothering you, huh?"
I sat up straight and tried to calm down my breathing before responding. "I'm just scared, Father."
     "What are you scared of, sweetheart?"
     "Father, I'm already a single parent before I even have my kid. There's no father figure to support me. I'm gonna die trying to raise this baby. It's just gonna be too hard for me. I just know it."
I continue to sob out loud and Father is caressing my hair trying to shush me and rock me slowly like he would when I was a baby.
     "Honey, you know that you have your Mother and I to help you and support you."
     "Yea, but what about when it's time for me to leave the house? When I get a job? When I have to worry about making a new life? How am I still gonna take care of this baby?" I started raising my voice before Father stopped me.
     "Jayda, listen to me," he said with a soft voice, "you're not gonna go through this alone. You and your son are gonna leave this place one day, so you can build your future, yes, but you need to understand that just because the father of your child isn't here... doesn't mean you can't find someone else. God has picked a man for your life, so you and your son can be happy. He may not be the father of your child, but he's out there somewhere. A loving, supportive, caring man is looking for you out there. Do you understand?"
     I nodded my head as it leaned on his chest. My tears had stopped flowing and I was calm again, still upset but calm. We stayed like that for a few seconds of him rubbing my back and resting his cheek on the top of my head.
Father had given me more confidence and motivation to keep going on in life. I knew for a fact that raising a child on my own was going to be walking through hell and back a few times, but I'm strong enough to face anything. Then.. it was go time.
On July 15, two days before my due date, my water broke. Mother was helping me walk up the stairs when I suddenly felt a popping sensation followed by a fluid exiting my body. It hurt just a tad bit, but suddenly I felt panicky. Mother noticed immediately what was happening and yelled for Father to quickly help her get me to the car. Father popped up out of nowhere in an instant and helped get me in the back seat, and he sat in the back with me. Mother drove as quickly as she could, both of them telling me to breathe.
     When we arrived, they walked me inside and hollered for a doctor which, luckily, one came immediately. The doctor came to help me get to a room, and eventually a few more doctors came with a stretcher. I didn't hesitate to lay down on it, and I was rolled into a room. They helped me lay down in the bed, and as I laid there, I didn't feel too scared since I was eventually left alone. I was feeling contractions more and more and it was very uncomfortable. I laid in the bed almost all day really. We checked in at 4:37pm, and it's currently 3:22am. I just couldn't wait to get this thing out of me.
     After about another hour, I was starting to feel more uncomfortable. I pressed the button to call for a nurse to let them know. That's when the doctor said, "The baby is coming now."
     As if on queue, Father walked in the room and came to sit beside me to tell me what to do. Over and over again the same words repeated. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
     After what felt like hours, which probably was, we got to the moment where I had to push. Sweat was soaking my face and neck due to the anxiety. My eyes were closed the whole time.
     "You can do this, Jayda. Just breathe, and when the doctor says 'push' you push, do you understand?" Father says.
     I just nod in reply and wait for my queue.
     Once the doctor finally says "push" I pushed with all I had. I pushed and pushed and pushed. All I felt was pain. My lower back was unbearable, and the cramps in my lower abdomen made me scream. Tears fell from my face mixing with the sweat. My hands were shaking, and I was probably breaking Father's hand, but I could trust him since this isn't his first time. I knew he knew what he was doing.
     The baby wasn't out completely yet, but I was already feeling way too overwhelmingly weak. I felt like I couldn't push anymore, but Father and all of the other nurses were encouraging me to keep going.
     "You can do this, sweetheart, just a few more pushes, you got this." Father said.
     I took a few more deep breaths before pushing once more. I couldn't push for very long because I was too weak, but the doctor told me to push one more time. I took a deep breath and pushed one more time, yelling loudly. When I stopped pushing and yelling, everything went quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of tiny cry. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my little baby being carried to a small area across the room where he was bathed and weighed and tested and all that. Then, they wrapped him in a blanket and brought him over to me. I sat up about a centimeter due to the lack of energy and held my beautiful baby boy against my chest. Both of us clearly needed to take a second and breathe. Then, Father told me that I have to feed him. That's when Father decided to leave the room to let us 'bond' followed by the other nurses. The main doctor handed me a bottle of the milk, and I started to feed my baby. As I fed him, I had to give his full name for the birth certificate. His name is Damien Lee Joseph, born at 4:56am. He weighed 6lbs and 11oz. The doctor complimented how beautiful he looked before leaving the room leaving us alone.
     He looked so peaceful. His cries were completely gone, and he was just resting in my arms drinking the milk. The only con to this whole situation is that he looked just like Charles. His eyes were closed, so I couldn't see the color, but the nose and mouth looked just like Charles. He had my ears though. He was so little, and that just made him even more cute. I caressed his little face and smiled to myself. I instantly fell in love, and I didn't want this to end.
     Some time passes and a nurse comes back. Damien is then taken to the labor room, or nursery, and I was then left alone. I had nothing to do and nothing on my mind other than the fact that I was extremely tired, so I can't really say much other than I was ready to sleep now. I couldn't feel my lower area. My back wasn't doing too good either. I laid down getting as comfortable as possible which was a struggle and fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was about 8:40am, according to the digital clock I just now noticed. There was a knock on the door before it opened revealing a nurse and a small table with a tray on it. I was so happy to see that she was bringing me food. I was starving!
     "Oh, well I wasn't expecting you to be awake, miss Jayda." The nurse said with a smile.
     I returned a smile before replying, "I just happened to wake up actually."
     "Well, do you need to use the restroom?" She said.
     "Yes."
     With that being said, she walked over towards me to help me up. I was still extremely sore, obviously, trying to walk to the bathroom. I was groaning the whole time. I noticed the clock when I came out. It literally took me fifteen minutes to use the bathroom. I instantly went back to bed so I could munch on whatever was made for me. I've always been told that hospital food isn't the best, or honestly even good, but I could eat anything at this point.