For the last few weeks, I’ve been playing with a little story that needed just this photo. It’s a difficult tale to tell, as it addresses a tragedy none of us would imagine ourselves strong enough to endure. But men and women, fathers and mothers, do endure, and it is to those who have emerged from the horrors of one of these secret rooms and walked with empty arms through a hallway much like this one, dark despite the shining lights, to whom I dedicate this piece. Your strength and grace astound me.
Photo Copyright – Rich Voza
Not What We Had Planned (100 words)
“Where is that bastard?” she screamed, sweat pouring from her brow. “I can’t do this!”
The young man beside the bed slid a cell phone into his pocket. “You’re going to have to, sis. Bus troubles. Dan won’t make it.”
Angelique clenched her fists as the woman bore down one final time. Peering around the doctor, she saw the baby’s perfect head, round and beautiful, still covered with amniotic fluid. Silently, the doctor placed the infant in his mother’s arms.
A cry erupted in the somber room. Angelique touched the trembling mother, and together each kissed a flawless, stillborn cheek.
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Lisa Dunn 
Love your story.
Your introduction to the story is very moving and so very true.
Thank you for sharing
Dee
Thank you. I hesitated to post it because this sort of event seems like such a sacred tragedy, but a bigger part of me feels that those who endure the loss of a newborn deserve not to be shut away from our thoughts.
Well done!
Thanks!
I skimmed too fast and read “newborn” for “stillborn”, then had to re-read. Well-written!
Thank you.
oh, jeez, what a heart wrencher of a story…
Randy
“Ugh,” sums up how I felt about writing it.
You were right about the story needing only that photo. Well recognized and written.
Aloha,
Doug
Thank you. The story had been brewing for several weeks, just waiting for this photo.
Such a sad one – made even sadder by the cold clinical corridors of the world we live in, that can unwittingly isolate us from the trauma of nature.
Yes, and a side effect of that isolation is an ability to pretend, at least for awhile, that all these tragedies that seems so unnatural happen only to “other people,” and could never happen to us. Thanks for reading.
Very sad.
Well written.
Don’t be afraid to write about the realities that are around us.
Thank you, and yes, this is reality. On the bright side, the ability of humans to carry on after tragedy is reality, too. That is part of my bigger goal with Angelique, to show that by God’s grace, we continue. It might not come out in these 100 word snippets, but that’s where I’d ultimately like to go.
This theme is coming along so very well. Nicely done!
Thank you so much. I can’t wait to thread all of these stories (and the ones yet to come) into a complete work.
wow – sharp. thanks
Thank you.
Very well told. You posted it on the same day that there is an annual event where those who have lost children gather together at one of these statues http://www.richardpaulevans.com/angel-statues.
Oh, wow! I had no idea that was going on yesterday!
Oh, my mistake, it is today 6th December, I should have noticed that you posted on Wednesday.
So sad.
The silence protrayed in the picture worked well with the story.
Angelique sure has an exciting life. Ron
wow, you lifted me up, and then you smashed me on a rock. you bastard. well done.
Come now, you couldn’t have expected it to end well if Angelique was involved! 🙂
Agree with Rich — that was a roller-coaster in just a few words.
This is heart-breaking. Some losses are hard to overcome.
What a tragic and poignant end. Very well done.
Sad, sad story. Nicely told.
Oh, I was so happy then I burst into tears. Wonderfully written, so sad.
Thanks, Mari.
So sad and well told. Do not hesitate to tell sad stories here, a little tears is just good for me.
Thanks. Tears are a relief from time to time.
Bummer. There’s no way I can relate to that pain, but you did an excellent job telling the tale.
Thank you.
Wonderful story, well told. So sad. This is one of the saddest things there is.
Thank you. I agree. I’m not how I could endure it myself.
Wow. I can only imagine the woman’s pain. New to Angelique’s story I had to read this twice to fingure out the who, what and why, but when it all click, boy did it click. So sad and powerful.
Thank you, Debra. If you click on “Friday Fictioneers” at the top of the page (next to Home and About), you’ll find several Angelique stories. I’m glad you enjoyed this one! Thanks for stopping by!
Hated your story. I was one of those who went through this. 30 years ago. It still hurts. And no, I didn’t really hate your story. But yes, I still think of her! Alison lived just about 7 hours!
Paul, I kind of hate my story, too. Thank you so much for commenting and sharing your love for your sweet Allison. I am truly sorry you did not have more time with her. I meant what I wrote in the beginning… Your strength and grace astound me. Again, thank you for the heartfelt comment.
Well that is twice I cried today. Sad and poignant story!
Thanks!
Well you sure got the emotion out from me. My Partner & I are not ready to have children yet, my biological clock is ticking and This IS my worst nightmare. (Another reminder for me to visit my Doctor for tests – so I thank you for that) . 🙂
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I don’t know how I missed this story the first time around. I’m glad I found it.
Thanks. Glad you found it!