Generation 1 Chapter 14: Amani Vista

“Losing a child is like a broken down car. To go in reverse brings painful memories. To go forward is too scary without your child. So we sit in neutral with our hands clutched to the emergency brake, hoping someday to find a way to run again.” –Denise Bellion 



 

Nothing can ever prepare you for losing a child…

Nothing.
But once it happens, you realize how cruel the world actually is. How unfair. How heartless.
I figured the C-section would be where the complications ended, just a minor setback in welcoming the next Vista into our family.
But I was wrong… So very, very wrong.

 

After the procedure, things appeared to be going relatively smoothly given the predicament. Our bouncing baby boy was being cleansed, and Concord and I were discussing a name for our new bundle of joy.

We settled on Pratt. Pratt Vista.
Within the first few hours of my recovery, however, an anxious nurse came up to my bedside, her face contorted into a mixture of emotions. All I remember was her explaining that Pratt had passed away due to low oxygen supply as a result of heavy chemical build up in his lungs. The rest remains a blur.
I was discharged from the hospital a few days later, and Concord and I proceeded to go to routine support groups. They’re helpless things, if you ask me.
Wearing black to express my sorrow is a much more prominent method.  

 

Painting became my venting outlet, allowing me to express my emotions in a way like no other. No one could judge your interpretation of your feelings, so I felt comfortable standing at the easel for hours a day, using abstract art to exhibit how Pratt changed my life.

 

Some mornings I awake to the sound of Concord choking in between sobs, doing his best to keep his misery a secret. I don’t think he understands that he doesn’t always have to be so strong for me… I’m my own person; I can make my own decisions.

But yet again, we see where that got me.   

 

Albany’s been worried sick about me, insisting that I’m too distant and that I should invest in some professional help.

She just doesn’t understand. No one does. 
I’ll be heading back to work in a few weeks anyways, something I’ve been longing to do ever since I delivered Bee. That’s something that’s bound to help me take my mind off things. 

 

“Mom, whatever happened to Pratt?” Amanda asked curiously, interrupting her bedtime story one evening.

“What do you mean by that, Sweetie?” I asked tentatively, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Well, we met him at the hospital, but he never came home with us.”
I didn’t know how to answer her. “I’ll tell you when you’re a bit older, Sweetheart.”
“But Mom, I want to know now.”
“Goodnight, Amanda,” I stated calmly, flicking off the lights.   

 

That same night, while enjoying the peace and quiet of a sleeping house, Concord asked in a voice barely above a whisper, “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped back.
“Amani, we lost a child for Heaven’s sake!”

 

“You mean I killed our child,” I corrected.

“Oh Amani…” Concord gasped, “I-I had no idea that’s how you felt.”
I glanced away, tears cascading down my cheeks.

 

The days soon started to blend together, and before I knew it, I barely knew what month it was. Bee’s grades were slipping drastically in school, due to Concord having to care for all three kids while I painted all day. Finding time to help Bee with her algebra was no longer one of Concord’s main priorities, preparing dinner and making sure Aiden had a clean diaper appeared to be more essential.

We think Amanda’s been feeling quite neglected recently, as she’s followed Bee’s example and turned Puzzle “real”. Not to mention that Bee’s addiction to Tubby has been worsening, spending hours each evening watching TV and apparently talking to him.

 

I was snapped back into reality when I woke up one morning and took a long look at Aiden. He was no longer the adorable little toddler I remembered him to be. Instead, in his place was a handsome young man, bubbling with enthusiasm and vulnerability.