A Tree Called Jacob

Third time. They say the third time’s the charm and she got too caught up in that promise to have any doubts. Yet here she was leaving the doctor’s office with swollen eyes for the third time. He tried to console her as they drove home but she insisted on silence. It made her feel selfish but she was owed a little selfishness. The AC blasted on one side of her face as the other side pressed into the window. He tapped on the wheel as if the rhythm would summon her to speak again. When they arrived home she found it colder than she did before. She slept with her head on his lap as he watched a show, what went on in her mind was louder than whatever was on the television. The next morning there were coffee and eggs waiting for her. People came throughout the day with treats and solaces for the two of them. It all felt hollow to her no matter the gesture, the greatest gift she could be offered is the permission to lie in bed all day.

She found herself getting upset that all this kindness would come her way only in the face of tragedy. Why can’t people send her gifts just for the hell of it? Why are the miscarriage gifts more thoughtful than the birthday or wedding gifts? It felt like the gifts or texts were to cover up for the lack of genuinely caring. “Oh yeah I checked off my good deed. I sent her muffins and a note that said I’m thinking of her.” Were they thinking of her or did they just want her to think they were thinking of her? She got upset thinking about this as she bit at the criminal muffins in question. She dug the blueberries out of the bread and ate those first as if that would help anything. He brought her lunch on a tray and turned on a film she’d mentioned wanting to watch. She wished she could allow herself to feel as bad for him as he felt for her. He lost a child too but not to the degree she did. She felt the child, they were one, to him they were an idea but to her they were something tangible.

She loved the idea of having a child with him. It was maybe the most romantic gesture she could think of, coming together to make a person out of the two of you. Trusting someone enough not only to spend your life with them but make another person to take along for the ride. Committing to all the hardships and setbacks of having a child in the hope of a love that will outlive you. She worried she was robbing him of something he alway said he wanted so badly. He’d mention adoption but both of them viewed that as some form of giving up, something neither of them were good at doing. He wouldn’t say it, so her overthinking made up for the silence.

A few days pass of the grief and the gifts and the pool of silence they surrounded. The silence he and her were drowning in together. Staring at one another through the water as they took their last breaths. It was time for the life raft, the same one they’d taken the two times before. A life raft they had taken from his mother when she had lost a child once in her youth. Before he was born his parents had been trying for years, and when they lost their first baby she felt an instinctive urge to plant a tree. The next morning a tree was planted in the front yard and each day it would be checked on by either one of them. Eventually, by the time he had introduced his new girlfriend to his mother, the tree was fully grown, he would joke to her that he considered it his older sibling. After their first miscarriage he brought up his mother’s story and they tried the same.

They would call the trees the baby names they’d thrown around for months. The first tree was Penelope or Peter. The second tree was Angela. The third baby was going to be named Jacob. It had now been a week since the inciting day when the two decided to go out to a nearby park to plant the tree. After it was in the ground, she nestled her leaking face into his shoulder. He held onto her in hopes of remaining strong, it wasn’t long before he was raining his own tears onto her. The two wiped themselves off and stared at what they’d set into motion, as if there was something clearly staring back at them. She thought about how people will mindlessly walk onto the dirt as a pathway to something else, not knowing this plot of dirt was their destination. They got ice cream after and turned the radio all the way up as they drove home. When they got home they kissed the drips of vanilla and chocolate off the other’s mouth.

The past trees felt more of a symbolic gesture, planting a tree in honor of what was lost. They didn’t plan to maintain them, it would take years to see them grow and the projects would just cause them to dwell in the pain. This time was different for her, perhaps desperate, she would visit the spot every day. While nothing visibly was changing she would bring a watering can to nourish what was below the surface. She would put up fences some days to protect it, but just as quickly as she’d put one up, someone would take it down. She knew that at any point, anyone could step on and destroy what was left of her baby and the fragility made her only more obsessive. He started to worry for her as the weeks went on. At first he would join her, but eventually had to return to work. He wasn’t sure when it was too much, or if it ever was too much, he didn’t want to intervene with how she grieved but also her grief only worsened his own.

The visits went on for weeks, and then months. She would consistently go once each day, usually during her lunch break. If she missed that window she would go later at night. When she left she would tell him she was off to see “Jacob”, a personification he found troubling. Once or twice he’d try to bring up the matter as unhealthy, which only made her upset. He didn’t bring it up any more. He refused to go anymore for his own peace of mind, he didn’t need the constant reminder of their misfortune and struggled to see how it wasn’t the same for her. She would sit by the spot and think about all the memories she had preordered to have with her little Jacob. The first time hearing him laugh, the first toy he’d be infatuated with, the way her fingers felt as they tickled his feet.

She was chewing at a ham sandwich she’d brought for lunch when she noticed it. A small growth, a sprout, emerging from the ground. She stared at it, in awe and ran her hand across it. The dripping from her eyes rendered her watering can useless as she marveled at the growing plant. She rushed home to tell him and practically dragged him to the park to see what they’d brought into the earth. They stumbled to the spot and when his eyes met the sprout he fell to his knees. He dragged his hands through the dirt around Jacob as he took joy in what they’d done. For the first time he understood her as they looked at their creation. One way or another, Jacob was here.

They began visiting Jacob in the morning before either had to go to work. They would sit next to the plant and trade tall tales about what they would do with the human Jacob that was taken away from them. Over time they were building a life for him alongside his green counterpart. It was maybe the most romantic gesture she could think of, setting a time in the day to spend with another and discuss their future. The growth was usually subtle but each day they’d bring a ruler to track Jacob’s growth. Every time he hit a new inch they would give him extra water as if he’d passed a test.

She’d started to crave ice cream more often, tracing it back to maybe some psychological urge to when they first planted Jacob into the ground. He would bring home cartons that she would finish in two days. It started to make her feel nauseous and she wouldn’t feel well enough to go to work or even visit Jacob. One day she threw up near his spot and felt some maternal guilt for her waste seeping into his soil. Eventually he insisted they go to a doctor to make sure it was nothing serious. After another week of signs she begrudgingly agreed and went for a check up. The news they got was serious, and for the first time out of four times they’d received it, the news was unexpected.

A year or so later she was taking young Catherine through the park. Catherine had gotten used to these walks and perhaps in her infant brain was growing sick of them, yet each time was just as exciting for her mother. She laid out the blanket and basket and set her daughter down as she searched for her bottle. After Catherine finished, Jacob got a dose of water. He had grown into a beautiful little sapling, still growing more every day. After a bit they would go visit Angela and the sloppily named Peternelope. Nothing ever grew from either but she, he and now Catherine will know what lies under each spot. She looked at Catherine as the baby napped in her arms, then to Jacob, in wonder of the beautiful creations she brought to this Earth.