Funnily enough, and this is self preservation also, all I could think about was the fact that we had tickets for Jack to see The Wiggles the next day. Only the credit card holder was allowed to pick up the tickets at he box office. This worried me, as I didnt want him to miss out. He was terribly excited. At the same time, I was angry at the people in the cars around us, talking, smoking, singing to the radio. How could they go on so normally, when I was about to go through the worst thing that any mother could go through?
We drove home to Kelvin's parent's house. My mum had dropped Jack off there as she had to work night duty as a nurse that night. I busied myself by getting into contact with Ticket Master to organise for my father-in-law, Ron to pick up the tickets.
I went to bed that night and every time I turned over, I felt Sybella lifelessly bump against the inside of my stomach, being sloshed around in amniotic fluid. It could have been mistaken for a kick, had I not known that she had already died. The sensation was disconcerting, to say the least. I didnt sleep much that night. I stayed awake, googling "stillbirth" and crying uncontrollably. My baby. My baby had died. My baby, who I loved, sang to, wished for and talked to. My precious, perfect little girl. For the rest of my life, I was going to be someone whose baby had died. I worried for her. Was she warm, safe? Was someone looking after her? Had someone been there to meet her in Heaven? I apologised to her, to say sorry for not being able to keep her alive. I asked her to forgive me.
Eventually, morning arrived.
It was Sybella's birthday.