Another all nighter. I thought this turned out beautifully. It needs a little work, but as a bare-bones piece, I like its start. I hope you do too. It's a little long, but be patient. It's worth it.
Angel Cake
My baby was having a baby! I could hardly wait. I loved watching her waddle and absently rub her growing basketball belly. Her doctor gave us the thumbs up.
“Good job Cassie” he told her “ Just take it easy. You need to lighten your workload a bit. Gotta give this angel cake a little more time in the oven.”
“We’ll do.” My daughter smiled.
“Yes, we will” I added. You never stop being a mom you know.
As we got in the car, she flicked “Mr. Puppy” a glass blowfish we had acquired on one of our mini vacations together.
“Mom—quit fussing. Really.” She began. Her voice was tight and irritated.
“I’m allowed to fuss. With Michael still deployed, I was given carte-blanche for fussing.”
“It’s annoying…”
“Too bad Baby doll. What’re you going to do? Chase me down? I’d love to see you try Chubby.”
“Moooooom” she wailed and laughed.
“Face it. You’re full. You look like you’re going to …”
POP
That’s as quickly as it happened. The truck hit us broadside. There was screaming as metal and glass showered us both. The car was filled with the smell of hot burlap when the airbags went off. I felt pressure and heat as the truck ripped my car apart and shoved us through the intersection. Suddenly everything got “cloudy”. I couldn’t see very clearly and the sounds around me were muted…as if I had water in my ears. When things stopped spinning I turned to see my baby; my babies. My movements were slow and heavy, must be shock I remember thinking. Then I saw it. No, I saw me. I was lying there at a horrible angle, crushed and mangled. I reached out and screamed but no one heard me. People were rushing and grabbing at Cassie. Blood framed her face and it was swelling, bruising. She was gasping for breath her eyes full of disbelief and horror as she stared at me.
“Look away.” I said to no one. We were both crying but they only noticed one of us. The EMT’s reached in and yanked her out. She snatched something greedily as they coaxed her into braces and on to boards to whisk her away. Everyone was shouting. I could barely hear. I jumped into the ambulance. Thank God I was dead or there wouldn’t have been room. The emergency crew simply moved through me as we raced to the hospital. I tried to be reassuring but my words fell into a void.
She was fading. The crew began to work faster. I heard a faint clink only to see Mr. Puppy hit the floor. She started to flail in a tantrum:
“Give it! Get it! Don’t LOSE it!” She shouted.
Once stuffed back into her hands, she gripped it and seemed to calm.
After countless tests and thorough checks, Cassie was officially pronounced “very lucky”. But I could feel her crumbling. As the days passed, she said little and ate less. She rubbed and held Mr. Puppy at all times. Her aunts and uncles came.
“Thank God” they all cooed while stroking and caressing her.
She was angry, often turning on them
“Thank WHO? God? Not in THIS room! Not in that car…” she would begin and then stop herself by biting the inside of her cheek—which she did as a child when her thoughts were too much, too heavy.
I continued to circle her bed and watch helplessly. In her sleep (neither of us knew day from night) she called for me. I always reached out but couldn’t get passed the film and thick haze. She seemed too far away—as if she were at the end of a funhouse tunnel.
Then there was the thumping. It started shortly after the accident becoming gradually louder. Right now it was a soft padded sound, like feet on carpet. I chose to ignore it.
As a mother, you want to soothe and comfort your children. It’s natural. I looked on as her skin grew sallow and pasty. Her eyes were haunted and dark. She had run out of tears and the last strands of hope or faith were weak. One night I heard her muttering to herself. Her tone was hateful.
“ Why did you do this? How could you let this happen? Why me? I’m alone—all alone.” she hissed.
Do you remember feeling your heart break? -Shattering into a thousand pieces you couldn’t capture. They scratch and burn inside your chest floating aimlessly and gouging you at random. It is a moving and constant pain. I felt my face pinch. My eyes crinkled and the ache was so deep inside my soul, I was unable to breathe.
“Please-just once more!” I begged the nothingness. My answer was the thumping and filmy images of a life I couldn’t live. I slumped, defeated and ignored.
I watched her, thinking at first, she was crying until her breath hitched and then I knew. I feared. She gulped and rolled. Her puffy, bruised face twisted in agony, she rubbed her belly; her baby. Her moan pricked at my skin. The thumping grew louder, faster. Through that haze it was becoming clear to me.
“No. Don’t do this! Please, hear me. WHERE ARE YOU?” I screeched in my head.
It felt as if I were clawing my way through sand to get to my Cassie. Panic seized me. I flailed, shouting, swearing, begging for help. Where were the doctors? Where were the nurses? Where was God NOW? I exhausted my “self”. And the thumping grew so loud that it pounded in my head rattling my teeth. I felt sanity and reason slipping away. I hit my knees in desperation, hope and fear for my babies. I was drowning in a thudding nothing.
“GOD! HELP ME!” I sobbed. I was on the brink of giving up. If I couldn't help her, I didn't want to save myself.
Cassie’s voice was small, wrought with fatigue and pain but the request was the same.
"God help me...."
The thump became thunder. I closed my eyes and pounded my chest with an angry fist equaling its rhythm. Faith was drifting away like a cloud; soon it would be a faint memory.
The breeze came soft and slight as was the light. Both were warm.
“Mom?” she whimpered, her voice sounded scratchy and confused.
From my knees I looked up to see my beautiful Cassie-my baby.
We smiled at each other reaching out to touch. The thunder rolled and grumbled as the breeze became a breath. My breath, the baby’s breath.
“The baby.” I had to shout over the noise. “MY baby!” The tears gushed in a hot salty river down my cheeks. My mouth fell open and sorrowful sobs choked me. My gift of time was running out. “I love you!” was all I could manage. But she felt it. She knew how much I meant it.
“Mommy” she cried. “Stay. I’m scared….I can’t…I’m alone!” she clutched her tummy. It was painful for us both.
“I’m here.” I sobbed.
Spittle seemed to seal my lips.
“Always here…”I tried to smile for her.
Somehow I got up and moved toward her. In the thunder I heard His voice.
“It’s time” He said softly.
I grabbed her hand, kissed it and fell away. “Baby” was my last word on Earth.
Cassie’s room flooded with people. She remained on her side, her fist tightly clenched. Her monitors and alarms beeped and wailed all the way down the hall like an ambulance.
I looked around in the stillness. “Thank you.” My voice shook knowing He was so close.
Through the haze, I saw my baby’s baby; pink, beautiful and strong: like her mommy.
Even now, I hover. I’m a mom. It’s what I do. Hanging in Baby Eve’s room is Mr. Puppy next to a delicate, porcelain cross. Relatives and friends come often to visit and help out. Their comments are the same: Eve is a blessed miracle.
Cassie’s reply is always: Yes. She is God’s Angel cake.
