Freya and Me.
I heard her gentle breathing as I walked into the room. Following the sound, I sat down carefully and reached out my hand to touch her. I felt her soft hair under my fingers, like fluffy cotton wool, her skin warm and smooth. She stirred, the blankets that covered her shifting slightly as a little contented sigh escaped her lips. Her breathing was steady, almost rhythmic and I smiled as she began to snore delicately. I smoothed over the covers she was lying beneath, and felt her warm little arm poking out slightly. The whole room felt warm and comforting and a sense of contentment enveloped me. My eyes began to feel heavy, the peace of the moment was contagious and before I knew it I’d fallen asleep, curled up on the soft cushioned chair.
I was woken abruptly by the sound of crying and reached out a comforting hand. She was restless now, wanting attention, so picking her up carefully, I rocked her gently until contented gurgling sounds replaced the crying.
“Amy,” I called out.
“I’m here Trisha.”
“Is she ok?”
“Yes just hungry, that’s all.” Amy replied.
Amy took my beautiful baby niece off me. “She needs a feed, you’ll be ok?” I could hear the concern in her voice.
“Yes fine, I almost nodded off earlier!”
“You did?” She laughed, and left the room.
The quiet enveloped me but it wasn’t a lonely feeling…..just quiet. Since losing my sight, my hearing had sharpened, so even here in my sister’s nursery subtle sounds surfaced, background noises, the hum of a lightbulb, muffled voices in another room. I could pick out words…… “Trisha is coping so well, she loves little Freya and Amy’s a great support.”
“Yes she’s a wonderful aunt, even after.”
The rest was left unsaid and I smiled sadly. They worried so much, but I was ok. Yes Freya was good for me, she lifted my spirits, made me feel lighter and gave me the incentive to keep going. Her innocent vulnerability installed in me the determination to be ok with what had happened, for her sake and my family’s.
As if on cue Amy came back in with her. “Sit yourself back down, she wants a cuddle.” Amy handed me this delicate tiny person and I felt my chest tighten with gratitude that she trusted me. Even though I couldn’t see, she knew her beloved daughter was safe in my arms. Contented baby talk started flowing from Freya’s lips.
“They have their own language,” I said smiling.
“They certainly do,” Amy replied, “and this little girl has a lot to say for herself.”