Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
The other one was my box. Four by four by seven, innocuous as it was, I was still scared to death at what lay inside. Although it’d been seven years, I still thought about the baby that would have been. If I’d had the baby, would I have remembered who I was sooner? Would I even be here today?
The first thing I saw was a piece of paper. Just plain computer paper, but in the middle of the paper said ‘Baby Girl Doe’ in the middle. Then the date of “September 9, 2006.”
As I was reading the papers myself, I read them aloud, too. I wanted Jack to be able to experience this; I had a feeling he could understand a lot more than we thought he could in his coma like state.
The second paper was a letter from one of the nurses that was there throughout my recovery. “This is a letter from the nurse, Jack.” I said, then cleared my throat and started to read.
This is a letter that I hate having to write you. You were such a delight to have around, even if you were brooding at first, which was understandable. At first, due to your injuries, we were not aware that you were having a miscarriage. We assumed that it was either part of the trauma you had sustained during an altercation with a person, or a vehicle, or that you were raped, and were showing signs of the trauma associated with that.
Once we realized what was going on, an ultrasound was done that clearly showed that your baby was no longer alive. You measured thirteen weeks and five days. Starting at thirteen weeks, in this hospital, all mothers who are past that time of gestation have to go through labor and delivery instead of a D&C. The decision of letting it happen naturally was due to the trauma that your body had gone through. At the time we didn’t feel that it would be beneficial to you to have any surgical procedures done that weren’t medically necessary.
You gave birth to your baby at midnight on September 9, two thousand and six. She was a perfectly formed baby girl. She was not breathing after the cord was cut, I’m sorry to tell you.
I just wanted to write this letter for you, explaining what was done and why, since you were unable to hear about it then. I am truly sorry for everything you suffered, but if you ever want to hear more, please do not hesitate to contact me.
Ivy Bonner.
“God, Jack,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Fuck.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I moved the piece of tissue paper that was covering a flat rectangular box, and lost the hold I had on my tears.
Underneath the tissue paper was another memory box, very similar to Jack’s in appearance. Except this one had a picture of our beautiful baby girl’s feet and hands. They were close ups, so you could see how perfectly formed every little digit was. Never again would I think of an unborn baby as anything less than a human being, because, in these pictures, it was like a shot to the gut.
That was my baby. My baby that, if it had lived, would have grown up to be a beautiful little girl.
If only she’d been given a chance.
“Jack,” I said and buried my face into his hand.
The nurse arrived with the steaming water, snapping me out of my crying jag. “Do you need anything else?” She asked.
Embarrassed that she’d caught me crying, I shook my head instead of answering. “Is there anything I need to avoid washing? Can I wash around the pads on his broken leg?”
“Yes, you can wash anything that’s not wrapped. I’d stay away from his hair for today though. That area is most assuredly sore for him right now, but everything else is within limits.” She smiled.
Once she left, I went to work on wiping his body down. The nurse had given me water with what smelled like baby body wash; by the time I was done, he smelled very good.
It made me wish that the smell that was wafting off his body was from a baby, and not just the wash. But also, that he was awake, and well.
I just might have that wish, according to my doctor. If I took it careful, during the next six weeks and let my body heal.
“You know we’re going to have a baby, don’t you Jack? Has Tai told you about the baby?” I asked him while smoothing the towel over his chest to dry him.
“We should name the baby Catori if it’s a girl and Adam if it’s a boy.” I declared.
“You can have the middle names since I chose the first names.” I chattered.
I don’t know what I’d been hoping for, but after an hour of crying into his hand, and then another hour telling him about my hopes and dreams for this baby, he still wasn’t awake. A little tendril of hope was extinguished as I was wheeled out of the room later that evening.
I’d given him a bath, and talked to him constantly, but still had no reaction out of him in the slightest. His face remained impassive and slack. His eyes didn’t move. Fingers didn’t twitch.
My eyes fell on Jack’s box. I’d brought it with me as I’d seen it on my way out. Curiously, I opened it and was flabbergasted.
Mountains and mountains of newspaper clippings, computer reports, police reports, and finally the police file of the day I was kidnapped filled the box. The reports were of supposed sightings of red headed women all over the United States. The police reports were of possible sightings as well. The file on my abduction was the hardest to read, but I did it.
I don’t know why I continued to file through the papers after long hours, but I did. What most surprised me was how Jack said he didn’t look for me, but the papers lying in front of me spoke differently. All of the paperwork here spanned over the last seven years. He’d never given up, and I knew he never would have.