Bed Rest

Drip. Drip. Drip. I lie awake in stale bed. I hadn’t held my baby in three days. My body is burning. My sheets drink up my cold, salty sweat. My husband checks on me while I lie here in bed. I look at him with big eyes.

“M-M-My baby…” I force out in a whisper. He gently shushes me.

“The baby’s fine,” he whispers. “Just take your medicine and rest.” I lie and breathed out my built up heat.

“Very good,” my husband whispers. Then, he pulled out a burnt orange bottle from our nightstand and twisted off the white cap. The scent of peppermint flooded my nose as he poured the liquid into a small plastic cup. His strong hand held the cup under my nose.

“Here, take this,” he murmurs. I opened my mouth to speak, but my husband lightly shushed me.

“Don’t talk,” he says. “Just take it.” He holds it to my lips and I drink up. My eyes draw shut. My husband speaks to me again, but his voice is so faint and distant to my burning ears. The black, heavy velvet curtain sinks over my heavy and weakened body.

Drip. Drip. Drip. My chest feels so heavy. I think I hear my baby crying. The voice is so faint. I have to go to my baby. I can’t move; my body’s too weak. My eyes trailed up to the ceiling. It looks so high up. I reach for it in my mind. My fingertips can’t even come close to touching it. I hear the clock ticking in our hallway. I shut my eyes and the ticking gets louder. Tick. Tick. Tick. A small rumble burns in my ears. I feel so hungry. I can’t remember the last time I had anything to eat. My eyes open when I hear the door opening. My husband has returned with a tray.

“How are you, Clover?” he whispers. I look at him with big eyes.

“B-B-B-Baby…” I tremble in my heated breath.

“The baby’s fine,” he reassures me. “I’ve brought you some soup.” I watch him as he walks closer to me with the tray. He set in down in front of me. My eyes traveled downwards to the oak tray before me. Thick, creamy red liquid with green specks sat in a silver bowl with a spoon in it. I couldn’t smell what it was. My husband sat down on the bed and picked up the spoon. He held it up to my lips.

“Open,” he whispers. He used his other hand to gently part my lips. He emptied the broth into my mouth. I think I taste tomatoes and parsley. I can’t remember anymore. My husband keeps feeding me until the bowl is empty. He gently kisses me on the forehead.

“Just rest now,” he says. “I’ll take care of the baby, okay?” I tried to speak, but he put his finger over my lips.

“It’ll be okay, just get some sleep,” he whispers. I slowly shut my eyes. The warmth in my belly traveled up to my brain and I heard no more.

Drip. Drip. Drip. My eyes dart around the empty room. It looks so black in here. I don’t know what time or day it is. I keep hearing my baby cry. My arms ache to hold my newborn. I try to get up, but my body feels too heavy. My breathing speeds up as the cries get louder and louder. I have to take care of my baby! I keep trying to get up, but my heated weight is forcing me down. I feel a bubble forming in my chest. I have to take care of my baby! I keep trying to get up when I hear the door open.

“Clover!” I hear someone scream. My husband runs into the room and pushes me back down in the bed. I try to fight him to get up.

“Baby! My baby!” I whimper. He shushes me again.

“It’s okay,” he says. “The baby is fine. You need to rest. I can’t risk you getting the baby sick as well.”

“But my baby’s crying!” I wail.

“The baby is fine,” he insists. “It’ll go deal with the matter right now. You just rest, okay?” I look at him with big deer eyes. He just gives me a little smile and nods as if to reassure me. I finally lie back reluctantly.

“Very good,” he whispers. My husband kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room. I lie there in worry. My baby needs me! My baby needs me right now!

Drip. Drip. Drip. My eyes scan the room for the source of the sound. I keep looking at the walls behind me. Maybe one of the pipes is leaking again. I cannot be certain. I hear the clock chiming downstairs. My eyes wander back to the door. I don’t hear my baby crying. Now, I am worried. What if my husband is not taking care of the baby? My heart begins to pound like a racehorse. I have to go check on my baby.

I force myself out of bed and fall to the floor. I wilt in pain as I force myself to feet. I am not quite successful and only manage to get on my knees. It’s so dark in here. I need a light. No, I need to get to my baby!

I try my best to crawl to the door. I reach up to open it. I think I’m going to be sick. I give it my all to hold in my medicine. My nails claw into the hard wood floor as I try to get up again. I keep slipping and falling to the floor. I should probably quit now. But, I have to see my baby! I push myself to get up again. I have to see my baby! I have to see my baby! I keep trying to get up when the door opens in front of me. I look up and see my husband staring down at me with big eyes.

“Clover!” he cries. “What are you doing out of bed?!?”

“BABY!” I scream. “I WANT TO SEE MY BABY!!!”

“You can’t,” he says. “Just go back to bed.” He tries to lift me off of the floor and carry me back to our bed. I fight against him with the strength I have left.

“No!” I scream. “I need to see my baby! My baby needs me right now!”

“Go to bed!” he yells again. I keep struggling to the door as he keeps pushing me back. Somebody’s gonna lose. I don’t care at the moment. I have to see my baby!

In the end, my husband picks me up and puts me back in bed. He kisses me on the forehead.

“The baby will be fine,” he reassures me. “Just rest. You’ll get to hold the baby again once you’re well. I promise.” He walks away and closes the door. I watch him with big eyes. I have to see my baby! Drip. Drip. Drip. I shut my eyes tightly. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! I have to see my baby! I have to see my baby! I HAVE TO SEE MY BABY!

Drip, Drip, Drip