Voices

The Mother
After nine long months, my darling cherished baby has arrived.
What a hideous, endless, agonizing night it has been. Such a torturous route for her and then, at last, slithering forth effortlessly. I'm totally, utterly exhausted, my emotions in turmoil, laughing, crying; never dreaming of a love so powerful. Her sweet softness, her perfection, is clasped to my bosom, for eternity I hope. My love is absolute. I'm euphoric, hovering, but inwardly terrified of our first cruel parting and the cold space on my chest.
How I wish my husband was here. Such longing. I'm dying to share these precious moments with him. His face will radiate love and joy as he receives her tenderly, safe in his huge hands. I must be calm, not dwell on his arduous journey. He'll come. How my body aches for him, his touch. How blessed I am to be savouring her warmth, her smell, with her soft hair nuzzling my chin but, how alone.
His stay will be brief, a fleeting shadow of love, the outback mine calling. Then, descending into utter despondency, dearest mother will attend.
Far away, our home awaits. There'll be flowers in the spring, nurtured with love and her precious bath water. The lamp lit evenings will echo to his resonant voice, reading. I'll knit and baby worship as she kicks on her rug.
Soon this sterile hospital room will blossom, a conglomeration of gifts, flowers, family, friends, she a remote, tiny bundle snug in her crib.
She's arrived, not a son, but a beautiful dark haired daughter.
The Daughter
I am waiting, my sobs racking ceaselessly, to fall into my grandmother's outstretched arms. Our heartbreak and tears will mingle, closer still in tragedy. I will read love and despair in her red, swollen eyes.
We'll stick together, she'll say, her tender words muffled into my hair, but of little comfort. I can't believe my darling mother, so vibrant, warm, loving, has gone so suddenly. My world, our family, shattered. My grandmother's love will help me through these dark days.
But, a piece of me has died.
The Aunt
She was sodden with sorrow at the funeral, hysterical.
Come on dear, I said to her with a quick hug, moving her away from the crowd. Pull yourself together, your family needs you. I tucked her damp hair behind her ears.
What family? she enquired, shaking away my hand. Taking my hankie, she wiped her face, straightened and, with a deep, shuddering breath, moved to join her father and brother. I think she was glad of my comfort. She insisted on going to the burial, not the usual thing, but there you are.
Such a tragic occasion.

Beth Magarey