My Son Watched Me Bleed

Nina Brown had been married to Simon Moore for seven years, and now she faced the uncertainty of her fifth pregnancy. Following the arrival of their son, Nate Moore, she had endured the heartbreak of three miscarriages. The first occurred after a mishap on the stairs, the next when she collided with a table corner, and the last from an ill-placed marble in the garden. Doctors had gently warned her that her body had grown frail, hinting at difficulties in conceiving again. Even if she succeeded, the journey might be perilous. This time, the entire family approached with heightened vigilance. Simon rejiggered his schedule, ensuring he returned home promptly each evening to stay by her side. He laid anti-slip mats over every stair and cushioned table edges with rubber pads for safety. Nate would snuggle close to Nina's growing belly, offering her a bowl of soup with endearing sincerity. "Mom, have this. I asked Mary to prepare it for the baby's health. I watched her simmer it patiently for two hours." Gazing into Nate's hopeful eyes, Nina drank without hesitation. However, the soup was unusually bitter, a far cry from the prenatal tonics she'd previously had. Before she could inquire whose culinary advice they'd followed, Simon's phone interrupted. He finished the call, then bent to plant a soft kiss on Nina's forehead. "I need to handle something at the office. I've bought the gemstone necklace you liked. I'll have Jamie deliver it soon." Nina's lips curved into a smile. Suddenly, a searing pain slashed across her abdomen! She crumpled along the wall, her eyes widening at the crimson bloom spreading across her pajamas. "Help, Simon. Our baby..." She pleaded in a whisper, watching in disbelief as Simon exited the nursery with purpose, and even little Nate was nowhere in sight. Her mind spun into chaos, murmuring desperate prayers while she strained to reach the phone on the bedside table. But her legs buckled beneath her, sending her crashing to the floor. A wave of pain washed over her, and she lay there, curled up, drenched in cold sweat that seeped through her pajamas. In her haze, she heard the creak of a door swinging open. "Mom?" It was Nate. Gathering the last remnants of her strength, Nina reached out, her voice barely a whisper, "N-Nate, please, fetch your dad. Call an ambulance." Yet Nate remained still, as if his feet were glued to the spot. He gazed at her, his young face completely blank. Neither fear nor urgency reflected in his eyes. Just a calm detachment, as though he were merely observing a scene to which he was detached. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he said softly, "Mom, you're bleeding a lot." Nina's heart tightened, and she couldn't help but repeat, "Nate, ambulance." Nate laughed lightly, "Alright, Mom, I'll be right back." He spun around and dashed off. As Nina's awareness began to slip away, her last sight was the tiny night light, dotted with stars and a moon on the ceiling. A gentle glow she had lovingly prepared for her unborn baby.