Mybreath was stolen away by the sight of the scrawny, little baby, lying on a bedof blankets and bolstered pillows. There were wires and tubes coming fromnearly every part of his body. He was a dark red in color, with thick and deephair and eyes that were hidden behind the tiniest pair of eyelids I’d everseen. Some would have looked at him and called him a fetus, and I guess theywouldn’t have been wrong. That is essentially what he was. But to me, all I sawwas, my baby boy.
Momstood beside me but didn’t speak a word, as I looked up to Elle and asked, “CanI touch him?”
“Oh,of course, you can,” she encouraged, nodding enthusiastically. “Babiesthis youngare very sensitive though, so stroking his skinisn’t the best idea. It might make him irritated and cranky. But you cancertainly hold his hand, or gently cup his head. In fact, it’s important thatyou do. He should know the feeling of your hands, because touch is sometimesthe best medicine for these little guys.”
Inodded and began to extend my hand toward him, noting the heat radiating fromhis incubator, then stopped. I was frozen with fear, terrified of knowing whathe felt like. But Elle reassured me it was okay and that I wouldn’t hurt him,and so, with trembling fingers, I closed the gap between his hand and mine.
Hisskin was paper thin and soft, and his fingers were so fragile and delicate. ButGod, he was so meticulously crafted in every way and so delicately designed. Iwould be lying if I said I’d seen or touched anything more perfect in my life.
Momsnapped a few pictures of our first touch, as I sat there, holding hishandand smiling, while tears pooled in my eyes, but neverfell. I didn’t want him to feel my sadness. I didn’t want him to sense my fearor concern. But he was so small and fragile, and I couldn’t help but think ofthe likelihood of him ever getting to see the world outside and coming home. Hewas hooked up toall ofthese beeping machines, thesethings I knew were keeping him alive, and I couldn’t help but be reminded ofjust how badly I had failed him.
Releasinghis hand, I turned to my mom, standing behind me, and said, “I think I need tolie down.”
“Areyou sure?” she asked, her face falling. “You can spend more time—”
“No,I’m really tired.”
Iwas deflecting and I knew it. I wanted to avoid every one of the fears sittingright in front of me. I knew my mom could sense that, but she didn’t argue, asshe took the handles of the wheelchair and thanked Elle for everything.
Then,we left the NICU and headed back to my room, where she helped me intobedand I forced myself to sleep. Just to disconnect fromthe reality I didn’t want to face.
***
When Iawoke early the next morning, it was to Elle entering the room. She immediatelyapologized for waking me up, but said she needed to say something to me beforeleaving for the day.
“Okay,”I muttered sleepily, raising the bed to face her.
“Yourlittle boywillcome home,” she said, and immediately, my throatconstricted around the fear of having to say goodbye before we’d barely saidhello.
“Youdon’t knowthat,” I croaked, turning away to face thewall.
“Kendall—canI call you Kendall?”
“Iprefer Kenny, but sure.”
“Okay,”she replied, laying a hand over mine. “Kenny, trust me, okay? I have been doingthis fora very longtime, and I have taken care ofhundreds of babies. Believe me when I say hewillgo home. He just needstime. That’s all. Time and love and patience.”
Turningback to face her and her assuring smile, I bit my lower lip and then asked,“What if he doesn’t make—”
Elleheld up her hand and shook her head. “There won’t be any of that talk, got it?If Itrulyfelt there was something wrong with your baby, I would tellyou, I swear. But I don’t. He’s just small, and he needs to grow. That’s all.”
Itook a deep breath and allowed a tear to fall, as I nodded. “Is there a chancesomething could go wrong down the road?”
“There’salways a chance,” she replied honestly, and as difficult as it was to hear,with that bit of truth, I now believed every one of her words. “But I and allof the other nurses are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’thappen. Okay?”
“Youswear?”
Ellenodded gently and squeezed my hand, as she replied, “I swear.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thatevening, my parents left to head back to my apartment. As always, they hadwanted to stay longer, and I knew they would’ve stayed forever, if they could.But they were both barely able to keep their eyes open, and I demanded for themto get some sleep. Before they left, they promised to be back bright and earlyin the morning. I told them to take their time, because as much as I lovedhaving them with me, I could’ve used some space, too. I knew some time awayfrom them and their worried glances would do me good, and finally, I had it.
Thesterile room was feeling a little more comfortable to me, after being there fora little over a day. The TV glowed with the still image of a woman holding ababy and a message to contact my nurse if I wanted to set my room up for cable,which I didn’t. What I did want, was to read a book or maybe even take anothernap, before the next round of blood and vitals. But just as I was about tosettle in, a knock came at the door.
Groaning,I rolled my head against the pillow and called out, “Yeah?”
Thedoor cracked open and there was Goose, shielding his eyes with a hand. “Hey,”he said cautiously. “I didn’t know if you wanted visitors or whatever, but uh,I brought you dinner.” He waved a bag into the room.
