PHOEBE
Was she sure? Was she sure?? Was she, the midwife, sure that she miscarried?!? In her emotional state she was tempted to flare into anger, her fingers gripping his shirt a bit tighter. But he back pedalled quickly, having also realized the absurdity of his question. As he apologized she just shook her head against his shoulder. Apologies wouldn't help or fix this...and really under any other circumstances she would have found his little blunder rather amusing."Last night." she whispered, taking a shuddering breath. "When I woke up it was...it was too late and I couldn't...there was nothing I could do." she said, her breath coming in short gasps, hyperventilating. Really, it had been a rather traumatic thing to go through alone, and only now was she realizing it. Even as a midwife, even with her training, it was still painful and exhausting physically and emotionally.
Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still, why am I not happier?
