B- Baby in heaven

B- Baby in heaven

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Silence blankets the room,
I see your pale feet,
Hanging,
From a gloved hand-
Silence blankets the room.

Joy washes over me-
9 months of weight,
18 hours of- my God-
Torturous pain,
Relief washes over me, but
Silence blankets the room.

A life- I have carried a life,
A symbol- of my other half,
A sign- we were meant to be,
My baby- I see his feet
But-
Silence blankets the room.

Silence blankets the room,
Seconds turn to minutes,
My baby’s chest-
Doesn’t move,
His voice- goes unheard,
Eyes…
It dawns on me as,
Silence blankets the room.


Towards the end of last year, i did six weeks of obs and gynae shift. I saw Joy, pain and loss. I remember a patient who was in the hospital from 9am to around 7pm who was in labour, with the knowledge that the baby was dead. I can’t even imagine the strength it takes to go through the pain of childbirt, knowing the baby within has no heartbeat. And my sister (also a medical student) saw a similar case, and this time, it was actulaly triplets, To lose three kids all at the same time… For me, these women are survivors.

The beautiful image above is courtesy of Pinterest/ Anything will do

Flash Fiction: Off Limits

Flash Fiction: Off Limits

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Johnny raced to his mother, clutching her hand and dragging her to the riverbank,
There mama”, he pointed at what appeared to the ordinary eyes as a slow-moving swamp river, with over grown bushes on the sides.
“Isn’t that the most beautiful river mama, like those of fairytales.”

“Oh Johnny,” his mum ruffles his hair, “there’s nothing remarkable about a muddy water.”
Johnny looked up at his mother in bewilderment. Why couldn’t she see what he was seeing.
But ma,” he protested until she pried him off the site reluctantly, telling him not to let his imaginations get the best of him.

That night, under starless skies with a solitary half-moon shining, Johnny’s mother made her way to the river bank, the same one Johnny had seen.
“I know what you are trying to do”, she spoke into the flowing river, her face as fierce as an angry gypsy,
So let me make something clear, my kid is off limit. And I’m sure neither one of us wants me to come back here again, because that won’t be pleasant.”

With that, Johnny’s mother made her way back to the camp knowing the intended recipient had got the message.


word count: 198. This Flash Fiction is in response to a photo prompt hosted by the social underground.