She’s gone.. and so am I
Something had changed since I left our house to get some groceries, like milk and bread. Things felt different. Back then, I couldn’t quite say why, but now I know. Now, she’s gone. And so am I.
As soon as I set foot in the kitchen, I heard him. He was crying, screaming for his mommy. The strange thing was, his crying was all I heard. Her soothing voice was absent. At that moment, I knew something wasn’t right.
I ran up the stairs, calling her name. No answer from her, more so from our son. Now he began screaming for me. As I stepped into his room, I heard her. Pain. I knew she was in pain. The babies, was the first thing I thought. It’s time. I was wrong. Because now she’s gone. And so am I.
I left my sons room and flew over to the bathroom at the end of the hall, calling her name again. ‘BRIAN!’, she yelled, followed by ‘Oh my God, it hurts!!” I still hear her scream sometimes. Even though I know it can’t be my wife I hear. Because she’s gone. And so am I.
Nothing could have prepared me for how I found Leighanne. I was so shocked, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I was a living statue who had no trouble with standing perfectly still. When she reached out for me, I came back to life. Ironic, since now she’s gone. And so am I.
She was all curled up in a ball, one hand pressed against her belly, while she was reaching for me with her other hand. I knelt down, softly squeezed her hand, and I simply stated, “It’s time.”
I mean, I knew the babies weren’t due yet, but I also knew that twins are often born a few weeks early. I slowly helped her up and we started shuffling towards the stairs. We had to stop several times along the way, because she was in such agonizing pain.
I knew then something was terribly wrong. This was different. Completely different from how the contractions and delivery of Baylee was. It all hit me within seconds. This was not normal. Those last few weeks hadn’t been near normal. But I kept quiet. I just told Leighanne I loved her and that everything was going to be alright. Now, she’s gone. And so am I.
As soon as we got to the bottom of the stairs, I ran back up to grab our son. He was still screaming with all his might. There was no time to try and calm him down. Maybe if I had.. maybe things would be different. I know that’s not true, but that doesn’t change the guilt I feel.
I took him over to our neighbours, the Johnsons. People we trusted, people I trust. I tried to tell her what was going on, but all I could do was stutter and ramble. She softly grabbed my crying son and told me to go. Later she told me she had a bad feeling. It turned out she was right. Leighanne is gone. And so am I.
In the hospital, they ran different tests. I stayed with her the whole time. She was scared. I was scared. I saw it in her eyes. I knew she saw fear in mine. Neither of us said a word about our feelings though. As if speaking up, would make bad things happen. They happened anyway. She’s gone. And so am I.
Before I knew it, I had to let go of her hand. A team of doctors and nurses took her from me. They rushed her to the operating room, and I ran along beside her. She and the babies turned out to be suffering from HELLP-syndrom and they had to operate immediately. There was no time to talk, no time for reassurance. Before they stole her from me, all I could do was tell her I loved her and that everything was going to be alright. Quietly, I already knew it wouldn’t. I thought we’d lose two of our children. Never in a million years I thought I’d lose her too. She’s gone. And so am I.
When I was told, I fell to my knees. Later I heard that I had been screaming. ‘Bawling’, was the word they used. Apparently I held my head and cried for hours, right in the middle of the hallway. They tried to gently move me into a family room. I kept shaking them off. I couldn’t handle their touch. It felt as if it burnt my skin, broke my bones, cut my nerves. So they let me. They called Kevin and he found me in exactly the same spot I had been for quite some time. As soon as he touched me, I fell into his arms. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. All I could think was that she was taken from me that day. And she, she took me with her.
She’s gone. And so am I.
Author's Chapter Notes:
You don’t really need to read “Save the first dance” first to understand this one..
The title "She's gone. And so am I." was also used in (the translation of) a book written by Jonathan Tropper, called "How to talk to a widower". So he owns that particular line.
The title "She's gone. And so am I." was also used in (the translation of) a book written by Jonathan Tropper, called "How to talk to a widower". So he owns that particular line.
