Loss

We all moved into the doctor’s consulting room.
Elizabeth was to have an ultrasound. I watched
with fascination as the cold gel was massaged
into Elizabeth’s gorgeous tummy. The doctor put
on her glasses and focussed in a professional
manner. After a while she removed her
stethoscope in a concerned gesture. We all
held our breath. Something was wrong. The
doctor couldn’t detect a heartbeat. Elizabeth
made a small sad animal sound. This was tragic.
The doctor tried again, then nodded her head.
It was certain. Elizabeth had lost the baby. I felt
immeasurably sorry. I clutched at Elizabeth’s
hand. Her whole body was trembling. She was
devastated. The doctor turned off the monitor
and withdrew. Father followed her. The room felt
icy and antiseptic. I melted into the bedside chair
while Elizabeth wept softly.

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Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist