I remember during my pregnancy that I always wondered what my baby would look like. I already knew my baby was a girl and would be named Elizabeth Susan Tholmson and my husband would have no say in it (he died, but I like to pretend he still lives). She was my baby and he couldn’t say anything to stop me. I’m Janet and I was nine months pregnant at the time. I went to the Sunshine Mall to buy my baby clothes and shoes. I noticed something; my water broke. I didn’t know where to run but waddled (my baby made me quite large-stomached) to the nearest staff member and was immediately directed to the infirmary. I noticed at that moment a loud, ominous thunderstorm arrived. I was taken as soon as my case was said into a room, where paramedics were already there, waiting for me. I don’t remember my baby being born.
I remember them telling me my baby died, “stillborn” they said. I asked them what they meant, they never answered. But...that can’t happen! That’s my baby we’re talking about! No! It never happened! She’s sleeping! I’m sure of it! My mind raced and raced, one hundred and eighty miles an hour with thoughts like this...thoughts of hopeful denial. Denial that my baby was dead.
I went home, in terrible distress; tears running like the sea. I remember my hands being a dark tint of brown. I’m probably just seeing things. Then, while in the middle of the living room, I heard someone. As if another me talking to me. She spoke in a quiet, welcoming tone, “Hi Janet. Don’t be worried, I’m just your thoughts. It’s okay, no need to be distressed. I know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“The truth about her, dear! Your baby, that beautiful baby, Elizabeth, is alive. They just want to take her away from you.”
“No! That’s my baby! My Elizabeth!”
“Yes! What will you do about that?”
“I will kill them for this and take back my child!”
I’m not sure about the rest of that conversation. She talked to me everyday...about Elizabeth and my husband.
Two days later, I heard a soft knock on the door. “Hello?” a soft voice, probably a woman’s, peeped, “Miss Janet? My name is Pearl. Can I come in?” I let her in and we started to talk. She was some therapist that was called by the police to talk to me. But, why would the police be involved with a birth? My baby isn’t dead! I thought too loudly,
“Dear, it’s okay to be scared. This was your first baby, right?”
“Yes. She’s alive though! She told me!”
“Who told you?”
“I...I’m not sure. It sounded like another me was talking to me. She said Elizabeth is alive. She talks to me everyday, ever since I came home from the hospital.”
She said nothing and started writing in notes in a clipboard. Then, she finally looked up, “Janet, what did this ‘other you’ look like? Did she look exactly like you? Did she tell you to do anything that might be dangerous? Has this happened before?”
“Well, she didn’t look like anything. She said she was my thoughts. She wasn’t visible. She was a voice in my head. Something like this happened when John died.”
“John?”
“My husband.”
She immediately scribbled in her clipboard.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked after a short while of dead silence.
“The doctors already told you. The baby was stillborn. I have to go now, Janet. Oh! You have to put this on. It’s for precautions. It’s so we know you won’t do anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Good day, Janet.”
She left pretty briskly. I put the thing she gave me on. It was a metal bracelet. It had a small, red light on it, but it wasn’t illuminating. It made a very faint beeping noise if I left my house or if I handled knives. Why won’t they tell me what happened to my daughter? Why wouldn’t they tell me what happened to my husband?
I remember Pearl seeing me everyday. She would look at my bracelet and ask me questions about what I was doing. After about three days of this she still never told me what happened to Elizabeth. She did say something about her, but I can’t quite remember what she told me. She said it was the same thing that happened to my husband, whatever that meant. She said I would have to go to a mental ward for twelve months starting tomorrow and she’ll see me everyday from then on. She emphasized, “No weapons will be allowed near or around me. Not even forks or spoons. It’s for precautions, Janet.”
That’s all I can remember.