A Charmed Life

Nancy Jr. Manther

Description

A Charmed Life is the story of a woman's life as told through the charms on her charm bracelets. It begins with the stillbirth of Annie's first child and follows her through the healing process, and the path on which that takes her. Along the way there are experiences in her life which may not be seen as "charmed", but enrich her life and the lives of those she loves. It is a story of the joy that is possible only after living through the pain that loss can bring.

Sujets

• Women
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456608057
• Langue: English

Extrait

A Charmed Life
 
by
Nancy Manther
 


 
 
 
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
 
 
copyright © Nancy Manther 2012 All Rights Reserved
 
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0805-7
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 


 
 
 
For Adam, my very first charm ~
 
Prologue
 
 
Strains of cello music played while the casket was being closed for what would be forever and always. The rich, low tones touched the hearts of Annie’s children. She loved this music and while it was moving and sad, it was also beautiful. It was their mother. This hadn’t been the only type of music she had loved – there were many -- just as there were many facets to the woman she had been. The emotions that the cello stirred made it the only choice for this moment. This was a moment they would remember forever.
The sun shone through the stained glass windows at a slant and made the funeral director’s black suit a colorful mosaic. His work at the casket was reverent and private. His movements, thoughtful and deliberate. In fact, it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. It was both touching and painful to witness. The ray of sunlight captured the scene like a spotlight. The irony of it was lost on no one. Annie always hated being the center of attention and now here she was, front and center, in a spotlight that was sent from heaven, just for her. It was finally her moment.
After the casket was closed he walked over to the front pew with something in his hands. Annie’s children knew what he held there. They had been anticipating this moment. Annie had instructed that this exchange would occur at precisely this moment in the ceremony. It had been so important to her, so special. They both thought it seemed a bit melodramatic, but they knew better than to tamper with her wishes.
Into each of their outstretched hands he placed a treasure, so precious, so wonderful. Something such as this they’d never known --- they’d never held before. He transferred it to each of them as though it were Annie’s body itself. It took their breath away, as well as that of those gathered there to say good-bye. This was because he’d just given them much more than their mother’s body. He’d just given them her life.
The charms were still sort of shiny, but had been well worn and much loved. Scratched and smudged, Annie had worn the bracelets every day for years, both of them on her right wrist, one above the other. Her children held them gently, as if to protect them from anymore loss, anymore pain. Neither of them looked to see which one they held, and no one turned to look. Everyone seemed to recognize how private and intimate this moment was; that Annie had just given her children one last gift; the charms that were her life.
 
The Blue Star
 
 
This was the charm that always made Annie’s heart hurt. It represented Dillon, her first baby, who was stillborn. Every time she looked at the brilliant blue star, she remembered him, no matter how many years had passed. Of course, thinking of him was no amazing feat, because she had a hard time recalling even a day since he’d been born that she hadn’t, even if only for a moment. Even if she barely caught it herself; if the thought was so fragile and fleeting that she nearly missed it, he was always there, close to her heart. What no one seemed to understand, was that Dillon’s dying had changed her life forever. It had changed her .
 
It was the first time Annie could recall that her prayers weren’t answered. To be honest, they were the first prayers that had ever really mattered. They might have been the only prayers. All of that fell by the wayside when Dillon was born; when he was born dead.
There had been a warning sign, but she hadn’t realized it. At around thirty-two weeks she had developed a rash – a non-specific rash, the midwife had called it. No one seemed concerned. It was also June and one of the hottest anyone could remember. The mercury hit ninety degrees more than once that summer. It was probably just a heat rash – no big deal. Annie’s maternal radar had been activated. She was worried.
A little over a week later, she felt the cramps. They were mild at first – she chalked them up to a normal discomfort of pregnancy. After all, she was in her last trimester. She was bound to be getting uncomfortable. They had been sporadic during the day; a little more bothersome by evening.
Eric had been at work, as usual. He worked a lot of late evenings then as a new accountant. He got home shortly after 11:00 p.m. that night and tumbled into bed next to her, exhausted. She’d been sleeping but was restless, because of the cramps and the heat. The small oscillating fan perched on the dresser blew a weak but steady breeze over the bed, but it wasn’t enough. She stirred and looked over at Eric with heavy eyes.
“Hey you,” she whispered, “long day?”
He slung his arm over her belly. “The longest.” He was lying on his back, eyes closed, his other arm flung over his head. Within seconds he was sleeping.
Great , she thought, he wakes me up and now that I’m awake, he’s asleep . She smiled at him tenderly in spite of her thoughts. He had been working harder than ever now that the baby was coming. He had become “Eric, The Provider” - hunting money to take care of his new little family. With a sigh of resignation, she realized she had to go to the bathroom. She wanted to ignore the urge, but knew that would be an exercise in futility. There was no denying it. She swung her leg over, to give her the leverage she needed to get out of the waterbed, and schlepped down the hall to the bathroom. When she sat down on the toilet she had no idea that her world would change only moments later. There, on the toilet paper, was a brown, slimy blob. It made her cringe to look at it. She knew what it was, what it meant. It was the mucus plug she’d read about in her pregnancy books, and it only meant one thing - that she would be in labor very soon.
It struck a chord deep inside her - this wasn’t good. Annie made her way back to the bedroom, every step gentle and soft, so as not to disturb the baby any further.
“Eric,” she said and nudged her snoring spouse. He was sound asleep now, and simply rolled over, away from her – away from the source of irritation. “Eric, wake up.” This time she shook his shoulder more vigorously, her heart pounding as her terror increased. She felt like she was going to throw up.
“What!” He barked as he opened his eyes a little. “I just fell asleep.”
“I think I lost my plug”, she whispered, trying hard not to fall apart.
He looked at her blankly. “That’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”
She sighed and took a deep breath. Hadn’t he been listening in childbirth classes? This wasn’t supposed to happen now , it was too soon. She was terrified. Annie looked at Eric and fear dug its gnarled fingers deep into her heart. He looked like he was shutting down, going into his denial mode. The way that Eric chose to handle her problems was to ignore them until she went away. She knew this problem was not going to go away. Some sixth sense had kicked into high gear. The nightmare had begun.
Annie sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to Eric. The cramps she had dismissed as “nothing” earlier, were starting to return. She grasped the wooden edge of the bed frame and held on tightly. If she let go, she was afraid she’d lose any self-control that was left. Eric raised himself up on his left elbow, pushing his hair out of his eyes with his right hand. He looked at his wife’s back through bleary eyes, heavy with sleep. He reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“What should we do?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“We need to call the doctor – the hospital, I mean. Labor and Delivery.” Annie’s eyes were filling with frightened tears that threatened to spill over any minute. “Where’s the phone?” It was a rhetorical question – she knew where it was – but it seemed too daunting a task to reach over and get it off the nightstand.
They were told to come right away. The rest was a detailed blur. The feelings remained strong and sharp, but gradually it all melted together.
 
When they arrived at the hospital, a stocky nurse with short brown hair that had been permed one time too many, brought them to a room on the Labor and Delivery unit. It was too soon to be there, but Annie knew that it was for the best. Where else should you be when you’re in labor? Labor. It was much too early. Surely, they’d be able to stop it. What if they couldn’t? She didn’t think she could handle having a preemie. The myriad of thoughts that always clogged her mind when she thought about “what if?” were running rampant. She was having trouble staying calm.
“Eric” she whispered as her eyes filled with tears, “I’m scared.” He patted her leg, trying to reassure her.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Try not to worry.”
Not worry, she thought, why not tell me not to breathe? How could she not worry? This was their baby – their child. Suddenly things were off course. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to make Eric worry and certainly didn’t want to be any trouble, but she was terrified. Her intuition, her sixth sense, and her gut were all screaming at her at the same time. Listening to them made her afraid and sad, so she did her best to ignore them and to put on a “happy” face. It was more of a mask than a face, and one that she’d be wearing for years.
An attractive young woman with long dark hair and big brown eyes strode into the room. She was wearing a white lab coat and carried a clipboard in her left arm. A blue