I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is a nurse waking me up and telling me they needed to check Lauren’s vitals and change her dressings. There was still no change, no sign of improvement and so I left her room and let the doctors do their jobs while I checked on the baby.
I stopped in my tracks when I spotted Maria standing in front of the glass, her hands covering her mouth as she sobbed. My heart dropped, immediately looking for my son and spotting him in the same position I had left him. I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around the empty corridor in search for Anthony or Adrianna but they were nowhere to be found.
“Maria?”
She turned to me, wiping her face as she did. “Is she okay?”
“She’s the same,” I confirmed. “They asked me to leave so they can change her dressings and check her out, so…I figured I’d check on this little guy,” I said, turning my attention toward my boy. “I feel like I’m failing them. When I’m not with her it feels wrong and when I’m not with him it feels the same but how do I choose?”
“You’re doing a good job,” she said, taking me by surprise.
I turned to meet her sincere eyes.
“I never expected to like you,” she said deliberately, blowing her nose into a tissue.
“Yeah, neither did I,” I retorted.
“But you surprised me Rabbit,” she teased.
“Riggs,” I corrected, earning a wink from her as she laced her arm around mine.
“Come with me,” she coaxed, leading me down the corridor. It was almost a year ago that I first met Maria and she knocked me in the head with a frying pan. Up until a couple of hours ago, or maybe days, I don’t even know how long this shit show had been going on, I wouldn’t have followed her anywhere too afraid she’d whack me.
We rounded the corner and she brought me inside the hospital chapel. I didn’t tell her the only chapel I was familiar with was the kind where Jack was the reverend and instead of saying prayers we voted on who dies.
She slid into the first pew and I followed behind her, staring at the altar and the candles that were displayed, some of them lit some of them not.
“Do you pray?” She asked, making the sign of the cross before she folded her hands.
“No,” I admitted. “Do you think it will help?” I asked, sounding half like a moron, half like a man running out of options but desperate to do whatever it takes to fix this situation.
“Yes, now pray with me,” she ordered.
“I don’t know how to pray,” I whispered, scratching the back of my head, waiting for nice Maria to morph into bat shit crazy Maria.
She shook her head, grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together.
“Heavenly Father, please hear our prayer,” she began. I thought she’d go on to recite a bunch of prayers, a few Hail Mary’s and whatever else there was but she prayed to God by talking to him. She explained Lauren’s situation, the baby’s and how they both needed his help to fight their way back to us. She promised she’d be a good servant of the Lord and drag my ass to church every Sunday if need be. Yeah, she told God she was going to drag my ass. When she was finished she taught me the Our Father, and then we both made the sign of the cross before walking over to the candles and lighting one for Lauren and one for Pea.
By the time we made our way back to the NICU, Maria offered to sit with Lauren while I spent some time with the baby. I tapped my knuckles against the glass, signaling to the nurse that I wanted to see the baby. She held up a finger telling me to wait a moment and then met me outside.
“Dr. Meadows came in and assessed the baby, he was able to take a few breaths on his own and suggested that we try the Kangaroo Care,” she said, leading me to the room where I scrubbed down before.
“Kangaroo what?” I questioned, taking the soap she offered me and started the scrubbing ritual.
“Studies have found that when premature babies have skin to skin contact with a parent they thrive so we’re going to have him lay on your chest,” she explained.
I froze in the middle of soaping up my hands and stared at her.
“You mean I’m going to be able to hold him?”
She smiled widely as she nodded. It took a moment for that to settle in before I continued to sterilize myself. I was anxious to hold him but a part of me felt guilty that I’d be holding him before Lauren. She already had missed some of the things I knew she was looking forward to, and this, the first time he’s held, well, it should be her arms holding him. She deserved that.
I followed the nurse and sat down in the chair next to my son’s incubator and did as I was told to prepare myself for this moment. I watched as she disconnected some of the wires that were attached to him and opened the top of the incubator, maneuvering his little body into her arms. I reached behind me, nervously pulling my shirt over my head before she turned around and faced me. I held out my arms, not sure where to hold him and not wanting to hurt him or pull any of his wires.
“Lean back,” she instructed, and as my back rested against the chair she laid my son against my chest, transitioning my hands where hers were.
I inhaled sharply as her hands left his tiny body and mine kept him curled against my chest.