I am awoken by a childโs faint cry. As I look around I see all these women; waiting oh so patiently. Each waits for a nurse to call her name. For a man to hold her hand. For those obscure nights to dissipate into a dream. For the bumps on their bellies to be worth a soul, a sin, a miraculous thing. No, no one has a ring.. Thereโs an awkward silence. The siblings of the unborn interrupt. Some fragile women secretly thankful to be distracted away from their ambivalent thoughts and trepidation seek refuge in reprimanding the unruly children.
A tumult of questions inundate my mind. Incessant raindrops leaving puddles of muddy thoughts.
There is a girl across the room she had shared with the group that her husband had gone to the restroom the day before and would soon join her. I fake a pitiful smile and yet hope that he does.
Until a woman dressed in white yells my name and I clutch my empty hand.