My Man T

Write at the Merge gave us two words today - gossamer and affinity.

 

 

It took me a bit to respond to this prompt.  It wasn’t until I saw Kathleen’s thumbnail that the pieces started falling in place.  That photo brought me back to my son’s stay in the level 2 nursery when he was born.  It was both the happiest and hardest week of my life. Two things to understand about this story is that he is my only child at this time and that, when he was born, I realized it was a huge part of my purpose in life to be his mother.

When my son, T, was born, he was only five pounds three ounces – too small to go to the regular nursery - even though he was only 5 days early.  He was born at 7:48 PM.  I didn’t get to see him again until about 1:00 AM.  The next time I saw him after that, he had an I.V. and multiple wires attached to his tiny body because he was struggling to maintain his own blood sugar.  The harsh contrast between his soft, delicate little body and those thick, heavy lines really hit me hard. The doctors and nurses said that wasn’t unusual in a baby so small, but why did it have to happen to my son?

It went downhill from there for a while.  At about three days old, he also got a feeding tube as he wouldn’t nurse and fell asleep part way through his bottle.  The day T’s nurse came and told me he was going to have to stay in the hospital after I was discharged just about killed me.  Unfortunately, that was also my husband’s birthday.  Talk about a party killer.

Once I was home it got a bit easier.  But I knew my place was with him.  It was so natural and right I struggled with not being able to do it.

Thankfully, T is a stubborn little man.  After pulling his own I.V. out twice on the hospital staff, they decided to leave it out.  His blood sugar remained stable without it.  We got to bring him home the next day.  Since then he has remained a stubborn, squirmy and precocious little boy who thinks he should be able to stand at just barely 5 months old

I know I got lucky with T.  It could have been so much worse.  For too many mothers, it is.  I am so thankful every day that T keeps getting bigger and stronger.  I’ll even put up with his penchant for standing and wanting to do things for himself.

My thumbnail this week is a picture of T at less than 24 hours old...