I still had empty arms, but I no longer felt alone

T

he plastic chair isn’t very comfortable. It’s also in a pretty public spot, not my favorite when it comes to wiping my tears with the back of my sleeve.

I’m sitting outside the triage room in the labor and delivery ward, sitting on the same chair I’d sat in just yesterday, though yesterday feels like a lifetime ago.

Was it only yesterday when I walked through these double doors, smiling in happy anticipation? Was it a mere 28 hours since my world fell apart?

I look through the open door of the triage room and notice the monitor near the bed. A little tear rolls silently down my cheek. I see the screens in the nurses’ station, neon green lines rising and falling with the tiny heartbeats they represent, and my heart clenches as yet another salty droplet wets my lips. I turn my head to the side, hiding my face in a valiant effort to maintain my dignity.