My little girl
Disclaimer: B&S doesn’t belong to me. Written with love, not for money.
Summary: Julia sits beside Elizabeth after the surgery
Extra: Spoilers until 3.10
God, her hand feels small in mine. They are warm, but the fingers don’t clench around mine, like they usually do, when we play hand-games. She loves to play with my hands, ever since she was a little child. She would lie in my arms and grab for my hands and hold them tight. Usually my pinky and my index-finger and she would smile, because she knew that those are the fingers I would use to tickle her with.
And now, her hand just lies in mine. Limp. Not much life in it. And I know it’s only logical, she’s still sedated, but I want her to move. I want it so much. For this child lying here in this bed is not my child. Elizabeth is a busy child, always moving, even when she sleeps. This little creature is somehow not my child. She is too quiet.
Sometimes she opens her eyes and looks at me. I don’t know if she registers that I’m here, but I caress her hand and I tell her everything will be fine. I promise her dolls and toys and books and ice-cream and other candy. But all I get in reply is the soft swooshing sound of the machine that helps her breathe and the beeps of the machines that register her heart-beat an other body functions and she closes her eyes again.
Tommy is talking to one of the nurses, but I cannot leave her side. I have to see her. She’s so small. What if she wakes up and there’s no one there at her bed? I have horrible nightmares of her waking up in this place and nobody being there to stop her from crying or give her comfort. She is so little. How can you explain this to her? Explain why she can’t move because there are all sorts of tubes in and on her body.
She opens her eyes and looks right at me. Her eyes are bright, but it’s like she’s not really there, then her eyelids grow all heavy again and she fights to keep them open, but…
“Elizabeth? Honey? Can you squeeze mommy’s hand? Just a little bit?” I whisper to her, but she remains quiet, pale and motionless.
I know, I know, I shouldn’t be disappointed, it’s too soon, she’s not awake yet… It’s just that.. that’s my girl and I am so frustrated and I feel so useless. I want her to wake up, so I can take care of her, be her mother, DO something, see her take her first steps back to recovery.. do what a mother must do, and no longer be just watching from the side. I bow my head, I know I must be patient, but all I can pray for is that she will be alright…. Awake….
And then Elizabeth squeezes my hand,… just a little bit….