“No!” My heart ceases to exist, that beeping is a lie. “No!” I cry again as Wyatt takes my hand. The pounding in my head intensifies. “She can’t . . .” I hiccup.

“They tried so hard, Ang. They did everything they could,” he explains.

“She was so strong.” Tears fall. They come down like rain as the realization that I lost my baby settles deep inside me. I’m alive, he’s alive, and she’s not.

“Baby.” He takes my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Angie. I’m so sorry. I begged them to save her. I begged God to take me and let you keep her. I would’ve done anything.”

My chest heaves as sobs rake through me. I don’t care about the pain. I want to revel in it because it’s real. My little girl is gone from my body. I was supposed to keep her safe. I kept her alive. Now she’s gone. “No! Please,” I beg.

Wyatt wraps his arm around me, holding me as I fall apart. “Shhh.” He tries to calm me.

“Angie.” I hear Presley’s voice. Wyatt loosens his hold as my best friend walks over to my other side. “I don’t know what to say other than I love you so much.”

“She never had a chance.” My voice is full of anguish. “It’s too much, Pres.”

“I know.” She wipes the tear from my cheek. “It’s not fair.”

I look over at Wyatt, the strong man who looks like he’s falling apart. His hair is disheveled; his usual scruff is almost a full beard. There are cuts on his face that look like they’re healing. “How long?” I choke on the words.

Wyatt’s lip quivers and a tear falls down his face. He glances over at Presley.

She squeezes my hand. “It’s been four days.” She sniffs. “Four days, and you underwent surgery. You ruptured your spleen, which is why they had to remove the baby. You fought so hard for her, honey.” Presley’s tears fall rapidly. “She just couldn’t hold on.”

My tears don’t stop falling. I lost my brother two years ago, and I thought there was nothing that could rival that pain, until now. That was a gentle kiss across the skin compared to this knife slicing through my chest. There’s nothing to fully express how completely empty I feel.

I look out the window, wanting to slip back into the darkness. When I was there, I still had her. I had everything.

Now, I have nothing.

“Angie?” Wyatt says, but I can’t look at him.

The nurse walks in. “Hi, honey.” She’s careful not to sound too happy. Her eyes take in the scene of people around me crying. “I’m going to check you over and then give you something for the pain, okay?”

“Whatever,” I reply.

I don’t have any strength for any emotions right now. I’m broken. Once again, someone I love has been stolen from me. I’ve been robbed of the family I thought I would have.

She looks at my vitals, types something into a small computer, and then injects something into my IV. “That should help with the headache.” Her hand gently squeezes my arm. “Your family has been at your bedside the entire time. You should get your rest, honey. The doctor will be in soon since you’re awake now.”

Presley’s red-rimmed eyes lock on mine. “I know you’re hurting. You both are.” She looks at Wyatt. “I just . . .” She stumbles for words. “Know that if you need me, for anything, I’m here.”

I close my eyes. “She’s gone.”

“She is. She’s gone and it’s not fair. It’s awful and cruel, but you’re here, Wyatt’s here, and you both need to lean on each other. You need to grieve and know that you have people around you who will do whatever you need.”

A pained sound escapes my mouth. “Give me back my daughter. Bring her back! That’s what I need. I need you to give me back my child!”

Wyatt releases my other hand and walks toward the door. His back is to me, but I can see his shoulders shake. I watch him fall apart. His hand braces on the window sill, and he wipes his face with the other. He doesn’t let me see him, but I know he’s trying to keep it together.

Presley chokes on her sob. “I can’t do that. I wish I could.”

“That’s what I thought,” I look away. “I want to go to sleep.”

She kisses my forehead. “Okay, babe. Rest if you can. We’ll talk more later. I love you.”

I draw in a shaky breath. “I know.”

Presley turns, goes to Wyatt, and grips his arm. She says something too low for me to hear, and he nods. Her eyes glance back at me one last time before she slips out the door.

Wyatt heads toward me with a pained look in his eyes.

After a few minutes of silence, I whisper, “Why? Why did this happen to us?”

“I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes as everything starts to sink in. “Did you see her?”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” His voice is so hesitant, so sad, but I don’t care.

“I need to know! I-I need!” I start to get hysterical. I was out for days while they’ve all processed this. I just found out I lost my baby. I need to know what happened. Was she hurt? Could I have done something? As I start to move to sit up, a stabbing sensation hits my side. I suck in a breath and close my eyes.

“Okay.” He pushes my hair back. “Okay, please just try to stay calm.”

I nod and slowly relax myself. “I need to know, Wyatt.”

“I held her.” He tells me. “I held her in my palm and cried over her.” I close my eyes and choke back the tears, but they slip past my eyelashes and fall down my cheek anyway. “She’s beautiful and tiny. I told her about how much I love her. I told her how much you do, too.”

“I can’t.” I stop him. “I can’t. I thought I could.”

His body slumps a little, and he leans against the side of the bed. “Okay.” Resignation settles between us. “We don’t have to do this now. When you’ve rested, we’ll go from there.”

There’s nowhere to go—not unless he’s able to bring back what is gone, which he can’t. No one can. We’re going to have to find a way to be childless parents and get through our days. I’ll have to look at my stomach every day for the rest of my life and know she’s gone.

“Honey.” Mrs. Hennington has been talking at me for what feels like an hour. I say “talking at” because I haven’t really been responding. I can’t. How can I talk when I’m dead inside? “We have to make arrangements.”

I don’t want to do any of this. “Please,” I beseech her. “Just pick whatever.” I want her to go away.

Presley shares a look with her, and Wyatt stares out the window. This morning, the chaplain came to talk to us about the loss of a child and how important it was to grieve. As if I didn’t know enough about that. He urged us to name her, spend some time with her, and allow ourselves to let go.

Then the doctor explained that there were no policies regarding infants, and we just needed to let our wants be known.

After they left, Wyatt spoke as I sat here crying and listened, wishing I could soothe his pain. He was in agony, but I was so deep in my own, I didn’t know what to say. I held his hand as he spoke of our baby and all she means to him. He told me how scared he was that I wouldn’t come out of it. That he would lose me too. His pain was palpable as he expressed his guilt and remorse.