|nonskid (nonskid) wrote,|
@ 2011-08-14 14:42:00
April 1st, 2000
Fred and George's birthday…
After two years, it's still hard not to miss Fred.
April 3rd, 2000
They're darker now.
April 3rd, 2000
dinner with Harry and Ginny has been very relaxing and distracting. We went to a cute restaurant in the nearest Muggle city, chatted about Harry and Ron's Auror tasks, Ginny's auditions for the Harpies, remembered the good old times, discussed some particulars of the wedding (I do NOT want the gnomes to be mistreated just to have the garden clean and free from them for the day).
The moment we saw a ginger guy serving a table nearby, we had a hard time not laughing in his face, because he was the same boy that Harry impersonated at Bill and Fleur's wedding thanks to Polyjuice.
It was a really fun and pleasant night and that roast was delicious!
~97 days – baby
-29 days – wedding
April 29th, 2000
remembering the past twenty days is going to be painful, but I have to get it off my chest or I'm going to explode.
23 days ago I lost my baby. Harrison or Julian isn't here anymore.
It was April 6th and the bleeding got worse the previous week, until they were a deep red-brown colour, more frequent and abundant. I screamed and Ron and Ginny run to see what was wrong: they found me on the bathroom's floor clutching my protruding belly, sitting in a puddle of my own blood and waters with unbearable cramps and a feeling that I can only compare to being eaten alive from the insides. Ginny fled to prepare the Floo while Ron helped me up and carried me bridal style in the kitchen downstairs, where Ginny was waiting for us anxiously.
I had the dreadful feeling the baby's life was ending before he or she could see this world finally freed from Voldemort's menace.
Our trip via Floo made me puke on the St Mungo's immaculately white tiles, but at least we made it to the hospital. I was bleeding more and more, I could almost feel the little body trying to get out just to make my sufferance end, but I didn't want to lose the baby. I kept blabbering it while I was ushered on a stretcher to surgery.
The Healers acted quickly, though it was pretty evident there wasn't much else to do except trying to save me.
I woke up a few hours later with Ron on my left and my parents on the right, all the Weasleys plus Harry opposite my bed. No one of them could look at me in the eyes for more than a couple of seconds, clearly uneasy and unable to find the nerve to give me the bad news.
But I already knew. The Healer didn't even need to stop by my room to tell me how they did their best to save both me and the foetus, but when it was clear that the foetus was already dead I became their priority. The Healer said that the foetus stopped growing around the 22nd week because of a malfunction of the umbilical cord, that hence didn't give the nutriments to the foetus. I hate the word foetus.
They were able to determine the sex, though, and it was a baby boy.
I was lying on the hospital bed looking at a spot on the ceiling above the Healer, unable to react to anything he was saying, but I heard the others sobbing, my mother fully crying on my father's shoulder and Ron crying silently while squeezing my hand comfortingly.
A heavy silence fell in the room when the Healer excused himself, bidding his condolences for our loss.
I just wanted to sleep.
I remained at St Mungo's for two weeks. Ron, my parents and the others kept me company every day, but I barely acknowledged them, preferring to look out of the window. I know I made everybody worry when I started disappearing from my room to go look at the babies in the nursery, ignoring the visitors who asked me which baby was mine.
I noticed the whispers, the sideways looks, the conversations interrupted every time I entered a room. What hurt me the most was that my own friends and parents acted like that, confabulating with the Healers behind my back.
I'm pretty sure they wanted to put me in the psychiatric ward, that's why I signed every paper and Floo'd as soon as possible, ignoring the Healers' advices. I returned to the Burrow just the time to take my wand, this diary and fill a bag with a few things, mentally thanking the Weasleys' for deciding to pay me a visit at the hospital around that time, then Disapparated.
I'm in the Muggle world now, in a B&B run by a sweet granny who warmed up to me quickly and I'm now gladly helping her with the chores. It's sweetly distracting.
I'm really sorry for leaving Ron and everyone else behind, but I need the time to recover from this loss, both physically and mentally, and having all of them around (especially a sorrowful Ron) would've been painful.
My sweet baby…I haven't been able to keep him in my arms, feed him, see him grow, read him stories…
What I can't forgive myself for is that I didn't go to a Healer sooner, when I saw the first bleedings.