Broken Baby

Hey Friends,

What a fucking day. I did something I rarely ever do: I cried. It started with the dream I had last night. I was giving birth to my new baby (for some reason, in my recliner, not a hospital). Mama delivered the child, which turned out to be a boy: a little black boy, so it was clearly Cain's baby. Mama slapped him on the ass, but he wouldn't cry so she handed him to me and said:

"Take this brat and get it to cry! I have to go play Bingo!"

I was pissed that she was leaving me alone with the baby because I, too, wanted to play Bingo. The next thing I knew I was rocking the baby and kissing his cheek until I realized he was dead. Before I knew it, the baby changed from a real baby to a fake baby and he somehow slipped from my arms, crashing to the ground and breaking into a million pieces. I sobbed, trying to scoop up the pieces of my baby, but chunks of his body rolled under the couch and recliner. I laid on the floor and wailed and wailed.

I woke up crying and found that I was really on the floor of my trailer, just like my dream. I got to my feet and doubled over. I was having the most severe cramps I've ever, ever had in my life.

I screamed for Mama to come help me. She rushed out of her bedroom and joined me on the floor. She put her arm around my shoulder.

"Trasha, darling, what's wrong?!"

I tried to speak, but the cramps were so bad, all I could do is breathe--in short gasps. I felt like I was going into labor, but clearly, it was much too soon for that.

We sat there, in silence, for a few moments and when the severity of the cramps subsided, I managed to get to my feet and stumble to the bathroom. I braced myself against the sink when I looked down at my feet and noticed a trail of blood had pooled between my toes.

My tears returned, ten-fold, and I was sobbing like never before.

Mama burst into the bathroom and took one look at me and started to cry, too.

"Oh, Trasha..." She cried, quietly. She then went to the tub and drew me a bath. When the tub was full, I had gotten some control over myself.

"Let's get you in the tub, darling," Mama said and I began to undress. Normally, I would never get nude in front of my mother, but this time, I really didn't care at all.

I wasn't in the bath, which was steaming it was so hot, for long before the water turned a very pale pink. I felt weak: I was losing more blood.

Mama sighed and said: "This happened to me before, a couple times, before I had Jacob. Both times, I was so relieved because I was too young and just not ready to have any babies. Look on the bright side: you can drink all you want now and not feel guilty!"

"What are you saying? Are you saying I lost my baby?"

She nodded. "Yep, you had a miscarriage darling. It happens all the time, especially in your first trimester."

I stared at the bathroom ceiling and let the tears fall silently down my face. I had turned back to stone again, I actually FELT myself shutting down. It was a comfortable, familiar feeling.

I laid there in the tub until the water turned ice cold. Mama then helped me get dressed and got me into my recliner, where I fell back asleep and cried softly and quietly for my broken baby.


Love,

Trasha