Stilled

Once again, gel was smeared on my swollen belly and paddles
were placed over the presumed places of my babies.
One baby squirmed and wriggled, warm and vibrant in her world.
The technician’s face fell and then froze as she swept the paddles
and searched for two heartbeats, confirmation of continuing
life and growth within, and found just one beating heart.
She spoke nothing, left to find the doctor, as I stared at the black
and white image of one baby, stilled but for the jerking rhythm
of my own now racing heart, bumping her tiny body against my inner belly.
The doctor’s practiced demeanor conveyed suspected truth, his voice
droned on in a background, dull roar, and strangled words finally emerged
from the cold, black hole that was now my heart “please, please, let me go home.”