Trigger Warning: This piece contains themes of infant loss, grief, death and mourning. It may be upsetting for some readers.

The bond between, 

The living,

The dead,

And the in between.

A mother embraces her baby,

For the first time,

And the last.

The air thick,

Solemn,

And misery,

A heartbeat,

Quickened,

Heaving sobs,

Clinging to what once was,

A still,

Quiet little thing,

No heartbeat,

Not a breath in them,

Pronounced dead in the 15th hour.

Time stands still,

The world still spins,

Life blurs,

A heartbeat,

That never ceases to ache.

She torments in her sleep,

Cries from beyond,

Reaching for what there should be,

An empty room,

Freshly painted walls,

An untouched cot,

Tiny clothes never put to use,

A room waiting,

A purpose left unfulfilled.

The doctor had not the words,

Or perhaps not the time,

But the nurses held her tight,

Presenting a box,

A stray hope,

A light,

A little box,

One tiny unworn hospital band,

A lock of little hair,

One tiny unworn newborn outfit,

A little hand and foot print.

Nothing is changed,

It all regrettably stays the same,

A mother has lost her babe,

She mourns in the living,

Of the dead,

Stuck in the in between.