She loved her baby as she walked in that room.

Sterile and steel and cold.

It's not so black and white,

But gray.

A sea of gray in which to swim.

To drown.

The hum of machines like the lullaby she will never sing.

She loves her baby.

Maybe in another life, more generous to her.

Maybe in another body.

Maybe not.

She loved her baby as she walked in the room.

She loves her baby as it's sucked from her womb.

Sterile and steel and cold.

It was all she could do.