“She’s not gone”: A mother visits her daughter in the morgue to say goodbye. And makes an incredible discovery! | HO
Gina sat silently in the sterile hallway, her eyes hollow and distant. The weight of grief pressed down on her chest as she was wheeled through the cold, clinical halls of the hospital. It had only been hours since she had held her daughter for the first and last time.
Her world had shattered in an instant when the neonatal specialist had pronounced Linda’s death, a life that had barely begun, taken by the cruel hands of prematurity. Gina had never expected to experience something so heart-wrenching. But now, here she was, about to face the reality of saying goodbye one final time.
The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead echoed in the empty hall, the sound amplified by the silence that surrounded them. Steven walked beside her, his steps slow and deliberate, his gaze fixed downward. The grief was written all over his face. They had both been through so much, and now, they were about to face one of the most unimaginable moments of their lives — one that no parent should ever have to endure.
Gina’s thoughts were a whirlpool of emotions. She had carried Linda for 27 weeks, loved her before she even saw her face. And yet, in a matter of moments, her baby was gone. Her chest felt hollow as she gripped the armrests of the wheelchair, the cold of the hospital gown pressing against her skin. She was numb. There were no words left to describe the loss, no way to make sense of the void that now consumed her heart.
They reached the morgue, and Gina felt a chill settle deeper into her bones. The sterile room was devoid of warmth, its cold steel walls and drawers casting shadows that felt too dark for a mother’s heart.
Her brother Malcolm was waiting at the door, his face tight with pain, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He tried to offer a comforting smile, but it was clear that none of them were okay. Gina had never felt so alone, yet so surrounded by the people who loved her.
“You ready for this?” Malcolm asked, his voice trembling as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He looked at Gina, searching her face for some sign of reassurance, but there was none. There was no “ready” for something like this. No one was ever prepared to say goodbye to their child, not in this way.
Gina took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered, though her voice was barely audible. She wasn’t ready, but she had to face this. She had to see Linda one last time.
The nurse went over to one of the drawers, scanning the label on the clipboard. She stopped near the bottom of the row and glanced at them with sympathetic eyes. “This is her,” the nurse said gently, her voice soft but filled with understanding. “Would you like to open it, or would you prefer I do it?”
Without hesitation, Gina spoke up, her voice shaking but firm. “I’ll do it.”
The nurse stepped back, giving Gina the space she needed. Gina’s heart pounded in her chest as she leaned forward. Her hands trembled as she gripped the cold metal handle of the drawer. The sound of the drawer sliding open was deafening in the silence, and the small wooden box inside came into view. Her breath caught in her throat.
The box was so small. Too small. It felt like a nightmare, a cruel twist of fate that she couldn’t wake from. Gina reached out slowly, her fingers brushing the smooth wood of the box. It was all too real. Her baby was in there. Her little Linda, gone.
With trembling hands, she pulled back the fabric that covered the box, revealing the tiny face beneath. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. Linda’s cheeks were plump and soft, her lips parted as if she had been sleeping, her tiny eyelashes resting gently against her skin. She looked so peaceful, so serene, as though she could simply wake up from a nap.
“My baby,” Gina whispered through a broken sob, her fingers hovering over Linda’s face. She touched her cheek, feeling the coldness of her skin, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse under the weight of the grief. “My sweet baby girl.”
Steven knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders. He didn’t say anything — there were no words that could ease the pain. His silence, though, spoke volumes. Malcolm stood behind them, a hand resting gently on Gina’s back, his own grief spilling over in quiet tears.
Gina took one last look at her daughter’s face, her heart heavy with the reality of the moment. But as she reached for the white cloth to cover Linda’s face again, something unexpected happened.
A faint sound, barely audible, reached her ears. It was so small, so subtle, that she almost dismissed it as a trick of her mind. But then she heard it again — a faint, almost imperceptible gasp.
Her heart stopped. Could it be? Was she imagining it? No. It couldn’t be.
Gina leaned closer, her breath caught in her throat. She stared at Linda, her hands shaking as she gently cupped her daughter’s tiny face. The soft sound of breathing filled the air. It was weak, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
Steven’s head snapped toward the small box. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He moved closer, his hands hovering over Linda, unsure of what to do. The nurse had stepped back, her eyes wide with shock.
Gina’s breath was shallow and fast as she touched Linda’s tiny chest, feeling the faint rise and fall. Her heart hammered in her chest as she realized what was happening. Her daughter was alive.
The nurse rushed to the table, her eyes wide with astonishment. She pressed her stethoscope against Linda’s chest, listening for any sign of life. A moment later, she looked up, her face filled with confusion and amazement. “She… she has a pulse,” the nurse said, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
The room was frozen in time. For a moment, it felt like everything stopped — the pain, the grief, the loss. Linda was alive.
Gina clutched her daughter’s tiny hand, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t believe it. She had just said goodbye to her baby, and now, here she was — breathing, alive. Her heart soared, and her body shook with the release of emotions she didn’t even know she had left to give.
“She’s not gone,” Gina whispered, her voice full of disbelief and hope. “She’s not gone. My baby girl is alive.”
