Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [30]
I pulled them from the bag and held one between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. I rubbed my fingers together, feeling the cold platinum bands, watching the diamonds sparkle as the white light dispersed through them. My fear was abated, knowing that they weren’t lost somewhere in her hospital room, but I didn’t know what to do with them. Do I put them back in her purse? Do I give them to my mom or her parents to hold until I am ready to put them in a safe place? The only way I could ensure their safety was to keep them on me. I placed them on the pinky finger of my left hand, the same way that Liz did: first the wedding band, then the engagement ring.
Now that I had them safely on my finger, I no longer gave a shit about completing the inventory. I looked at my mom and then at the grief counselor. “Can you please take care of this for me? I’m going to feed Madeline.”
I walked down the hall, trying not to acknowledge the looks of pity cast in my direction by the nurses I passed on my way. I knew what they must have been thinking, because it was the same thing I was thinking: That poor guy. There is no way he is going to be able to get through this and raise that baby properly. They’re both fucked. When I reached the NICU, a nurse greeted me. “I’m so sorry to hear about your wife,” she said.
It was the first time I had heard those words, and they stung worse than the weekly allergy shots I had gotten as a child. My entire body tensed up. I knew that I’d be hearing that same phrase, getting that same reminder, for the rest of my life. I had been slapped with the label of widower, and it would be impossible to shake. I went to wash my hands, realizing that like my wedding band, Liz’s rings would have to come off my finger. I removed them, placing them on the safety pin clipped to my belt loop that had been given to me by a nurse the first time I visited the NICU. I could feel everyone’s stares as I walked to the room where my daughter was. Another nurse came to me and gently rubbed my shoulder. “I am so, so sorry.” She looked up at me and into my eyes, coming face-to-face with a different kind of anguish than she normally dealt with. “Let me get your baby for you.”
I stared at Madeline lying there in that plastic box, surrounded by tubes and cords. The relief I had felt just a day earlier was replaced by dread and crippling fear. Yesterday I had been absolutely certain that Madeline’s health would be fine and that Liz and I would be the best parents there ever were. But without her…I didn’t think I could do this without her, and I didn’t want to do this without her. Where was the optimism? Where was the happiness? Where was the future? These things had died along with Liz. I felt so helpless, so vulnerable, and that was exactly how Madeline looked to me now. In reality, she was doing better than expected and had made great progress so far, but knowing that we had both lost the most important person in our lives, I wasn’t sure that either one of us would survive.
I watched as the nurse maneuvered the cords and tubes so she could pull Madeline from the incubator. Sitting in the same rocking chair I sat in yesterday when I first held our child, I couldn’t help but think how different everything was. I looked down at the T-shirt I was wearing, white, with the image of nineteen faceless women dressed in aerobics gear, the words Broken Social Scene underneath. A few hours ago it had simply been a reminder of a great show I’d been to, but now and forever it would be something else. It would be a reminder of the night I bought it—a night when a pregnant Liz was feeling too ill to join me. I went by myself, unwilling to miss a show I’d been anticipating for months. It was fucked up that I left her alone