Ironic (Mi's side)

ironic     Possable mild trigger

As soon as I got through the door to the ECA I scrambled out of Emmet’s and Esmee’s arms and darted over to the far corner cowering like a frightened rabbit in headlights. I wanted to get the image of his tiny body out the back of my head but it refused to leave.

“What happened?” I heard Esmee whisper to Emmet gently from the corner as she placed his hand on the side of his hip and stared up at him trying to read his mind

“That was truly Pandora’s box.” Emmet whispered bending his head down over hers unable to stop him self from stealing a kiss off of her, “It was photos and things,” Emmet continued “and there was a baby, a very premature baby, I would say about 18 week’s gestation, he was dead of course.” Emmet whispered again before stealing another kiss off of her.

The nausea rolled within me as Emmet described my son in such harsh and clinical terms, he sounded like all the doctors and nurses who described him as a by product of a miss carriage, I wasn’t even meant to have his photo but Arabella begged for me and a kind nurse had took pity, giving me six blurry photos when I woke up three days later after I had been given enough blood to come round to remember him by. I had not been able to see him like this though for that tiny baby had been inside me, moving and swirling and kicking and reacting every time I sand to him or the greys anatomy them tune echoed from my treasured DVD box set. He was in short; so alive

I yelped out loud before I could stop my self, clutching my hands around my chest to try and stop it feeling like my insides where going to explode out of me and all over the floor in a sticky mess, I missed the feeling of him in there and every time I remembered the whirling against my bump it felt like someone kicked me in the stomach.

“Was that Oscar Mi? Emmet asked as he stole one more kiss from Esmee and turned to me. My tummy reeled as I heard him name the clearly dead baby he had been talking about; my little boy.

“I feel sick,” I moaned as the whole of my body shook violently and my knees buckled to the padded floor underneath me my breath catching in my throat before I had chance to properly breathy it into my lungs.

“It’s going to be OK,” Emmet soothed crossing the floor to my side before going down on his knees next to me and taking my shaking hand into his and gripping it tightly. I wanted to scream aloud at him, I wanted to shout and holler and cry at the injustice of everything I wanted to demand that he made it feel better inside of me but I couldn’t do any of it apart from sit and shake and will the queasiness in me to stay confined to my stomach even though it protested and tried to crawl it’s way up into my mouth in a hot acidic protest.

“I feel sick,” I groaned again like somehow keeping on about it might make the nausea go away or get the burned in image out of my head.

“OK honey, it’s all right, do you want me to open up the bathroom for you?” Emmet asked gently before trying to get to his feet however I refused to let go of his hand so I got up with him and walked stiffly to the little bathroom door still shaking waiting for him get his key card out and swipe it through the slot. “I will leave it open OK, you are not being punished by being in here Mi, It’s just a room right now, and if you want anything we can go and get it for you, a blanket or a pillow, maybe your rabbit he seems to help make it better.”

I didn’t want the rabbit; I wanted what the rabbit represented. I wanted the desperately but like Oscar she was gone as well.

“I feel sick.” I mumbled again my mid always coming back to the aching nausea the thrashed around inside me and sat just below my gag reflex; to high to go back down and to low to be forced up.

“Come and sit here.” Emmet said gently lowering the toilet seat for me to sit on but I refused to move because I would have had to have let go of his hand; I squeezed tighter.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” I moaned as the bile crept further up and activated my gag reflex making my stomach lurch toward my mouth but still I refused to let go of him and take my kneeling position in front of the toilet to vomit just in case he disintegrated before I had time to take hold of his hand again.

“Ok let me grab these.” Emmet said reaching into the bathroom and grabbing the pile of dishes off of the side before he moved back out and sat down on the floor allowing me to sit down as close as I could get next to him. “You got your elastic band Esmee?” Emmet asked gently as I gagged a further two times bowing my head close down to the dish in my lap before catching my breath. The air hit into my like a stab in the stomach and I retched properly for the first time as Esmee came over and sat beside of me scooping my hair back up into a ponytail

“Mi, don’t fight it we wont be angry with you,” Emmet said softly “Your in shock and you will feel a lot better after you have been sick,”

I laughed bitterly at the meaning of his comment for the first time he was giving me permission to hurl and for the first time I really didn’t want to. I had always hated irony!