I was in Melbourne when I got the call, standing in the middle of the apartment wearing only stockings and a bra, curling wand in my hair, getting ready for Fashionopolis. The nervous voice of Monica’s mother gave me shivers. She sounded scared, which made me scared, which made me want to run home immediately. Monica and I are close, really close and if anything happened to her… I hung up the phone and my whole body shook with hard sobs. My roommate Hayley held my shoulder as I composed myself, after all we had somewhere to be and I couldn’t be helpful where I was.
We arrived 1.5 hours late which was terrible even for me but at least it was justified. There was an emergency, my world was unstable and there was nothing I could do about it but smile, nod and say I was ok. I ached for my friend, I ached for her son, I ached for her little girl. I wanted to be there, even just to be sitting in the corridor.
It felt silly and vapid to be all dressed up, talking about fashion, looking at beautiful people and snacking on gourmet treats. At 2pm I got a text, “Skyla” was born healthy and Monica was ok. I sighed so deeply, I felt all the air escape my body. After the conference was over the anxiety took it’s toll and my symptoms turned physical so I skipped the after party and opted to spend a quiet night alone with a Grill’d burger and twitter.
Monica sent me a few photos and updates. They’d rushed to hospital after Monica had an excessive bleed, it was scary. Skyla wasn’t due until the 5th of June. I think I’ll always remember how terrified Monica sounded when I called her, her sobs coming down the phone in great heaves, trying to let me know what was going on between raspy breaths. I did all I could do… I told her I loved her.
She was born via emergency c-section, something Monica had been whole heartedly trying to avoid after her c-section with Brock. Doctors explained she had a major clot and then smaller clot masses. Monica was ok but it could have worked out so differently. Brock and Skyla could have easily lost their beautiful, kind, nurturing mother, the mere thought made me want to vomit.
As soon as Steve picked me up from the Airport on Sunday (Mother’s Day) I hugged Aidan with everything I had, his little chubby cheek squished up against mine, begging me to let him go. That night after dinner Aidan and I rugged up and went to visit Monica and Skyla at the maternity ward.
The whole family was there, we ate cake, the boys played with their cars and we celebrated the fact that everything had worked out well in the end. Aidan was immediately smitten with Skyla, gently holding her tiny hands, telling her she was pretty and saying “shhh… it’s ok” every time she cried. My insides ached. ‘This might be the closest Aidan will have to a sister’ I thought to myself but pushed it all aside, I was too happy to go to that place.
Skyla is feeding, squishy and velvety soft but most of all she’s loved…
… even if she is already a drama queen!