Her tone became even softer. “Oh yes, he’s right over here.” She led me to a far corner of the room. “He’s quite the little fighter.”
As we approached, a baby small enough to fit in one of my hands was lying on his stomach, monitors attached to his frail body covered by almost transparent skin, a feeding tube in his nose that likely went directly to his stomach, and a breathing tube. It was almost painful to see. Such a small life fighting with everything he had, when he didn’t deserve to be brought into this already cruel world in such a harsh manner.
“Has his mom come to see him?”
She looked perplexed. “Unfortunately, Baby March was abandoned. The day she delivered and was put in a post-partum room, she walked out a few hours later and hasn’t been back. Nobody knows any contact information, and she never asked any questions about him before she left.”
My hand automatically went up to my mouth. I felt like I wanted to be sick. How could a mother carry an infant, give birth, and just abandon it? Doesn’t matter that she didn’t carry him to term. He was her child. He would have loved her unconditionally and expected nothing in return other than what she could offer him. I just couldn’t understand it.
The nurse, whom I’d learned was named Cassie, told me the baby’s stats and what the doctor was expecting from him over the next couple of days. When babies came down here to NICU, they were usually checked in on every hour. They were given short term goals because that’s what the staff had to rely on. Baby steps, if you will. Anything past that was just asking for too much too soon.
Cassie left me standing by Baby March’s bed, and I turned to face him. He really was very fragile. I couldn’t help what I was doing though. I stood there, and counted all ten fingers and all ten toes. Someone needed to do it for him. He deserved that much. I closed my eyes as tears welled in them. I took a deep breath and exhaled. Life wasn’t fair. My parents were taken from me far too early, and I’ve been fighting to survive on my own for years. It was a struggle for me at sixteen. Why does an infant that weighed no more than three pounds have to suffer? Why was God picking him to have this battle? There were just some things I don’t think I’d ever understand.
There was two covered holes in the incubator where nurses were able to reach gloved hands inside and make adjustments to his wires and tubes. Without asking, I went to the sink, washed my hands, and suited myself up to handle him. When I touched him for the first time, a small spark hit me. Not like electricity, but something indescribable. I wanted this baby to live. I cared that he was being cared for by the best. And I also realized, in that moment while my covered hand stroked his little back, that no matter how many nurses and doctors were checking in on him, I would be down here as often as possible ensuring that he knew he was loved. I stayed there with him for almost an hour, nurses moving around me, some even coming over to chat. They appreciated the extra support I was providing. But really, I was being selfish. I was doing this for me too. Something deep down inside of my very being needed the reassurance. He would be okay. I would accept nothing less.
It had been a very long day. I was on a quick ten minute break and on the tail end of my twelve hour shift. Visiting the baby this morning took a lot out of me emotionally, and assisting four other deliveries today was about all I could handle. I just wanted to stuff my face, and clock out. No wine or book necessary tonight. I simply needed sleep.
I was sitting in the locker/break room when the door opened and a little surprise walked in. Turner was carrying two Styrofoam boxes with something that smelled absolutely delicious. My poor stomach caught a whiff of the food too, and after that it was all over with. Was there an equally delicious man holding those boxes? No clue. Standing up I went straight to them with a one track mind. Turner held a box up, offering it to me. Snagging them from his hands, he chuckled.
“Hungry?”
I sat down and opened the lids. Deep fried chicken, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, and coleslaw all attacked my senses. I think I moaned. Turner shifted in his chair. I glanced up at him and he watched me with an equally ravenous look I had for the chicken. I gulped.
“I’m sorry, did you ask me something?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I take it you’re hungry?”
I picked up a leg and stuffed it in my mouth. I had no patience for politeness right now. “Mhmm. I’ve not eaten since six o’clock this morning.”
He glanced down at his watch. “That was over thirteen hours ago. Don’t they give you breaks on this floor?”
I swallowed a massive bite of piping hot, greasy chicken. “Yeah, but I have had too much other stuff to do. Charting, sending stuff down to the lab, giving the doctors updates. It’s been quite the day.”
“Sounds like it.” His eyes roamed over my face. As the food was settling in my empty stomach, I was able to focus on something other than my hunger. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him looking at me like that. “Y’all always this busy?”
I picked up a plastic fork and stuck it in the potatoes. “Not always. Just during shift changes it gets hectic, and of course if there’s a full moon.”
“I thought that was an old wives tale?”
I shook my head. “Didn’t you learn this stuff during your OB rotation?” I couldn’t help the laugh that came out.
“I don’t think I paid much attention, honestly.”
I explained, “It’s not really an old wives tale. There’s some truth to it. When there’s a full moon, there’s something to do with the gravity and earths pull and tilt that causes something to happen in a woman’s body if she’s close to her due date. It can help move along labor or get it started. I’ve checked out the calendar a couple times when there’s one going on. The rooms tend to be a little fuller.”
He thought it over. “Huh, I guess you learn something new every day.”
I nodded. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
I continued to eat my food in silence while Turner watched on. The other box of food remained untouched.
I pointed my fork in its direction. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yeah, I was just distracted by the view.” He reached forward and pulled the white container toward him. He had the same thing I was eating. Picking up a thigh, he brought it to his mouth and took a bite. I watched his jaw and lips moving with rapt attention. I had no idea eating could be so sexy. “You okay over there?”
The smugness in his tone told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Damn it, Annabelle, get your shit together. This wasn’t the time or the place.
“I’m fine. So anyway, what made you come to my little neck of the woods? And how did you know I was even here?”
“I called your charge nurse.”
“That’s a little stalkerish don’t you think?”
“Not when I had intentions of bringing you dinner and we could talk about our next date.”
“Still don’t know how I feel about that.”
He raised one perfect brow. “The date, or that I made the call.”
“Both.”
“Well . . . too bad.”
Cocky bastard. “So what about this date? Weren’t you supposed to call me or something?”
Turner shrugged his wide shoulders. “I could have, but I decided this was much more fun.”
I think I ate to fast. I was already full and I’d barely finish a leg and a couple bites of potato. I sighed. “If watching me stuff my face like stoned college kid is fun for you, you should see me when I’m home alone and have a box of chocolates. Definitely disgusting.”
He was amused. “Noted.”
I waved my fork in the air. “No, sir. I was making a statement. It’s not something you’ll actually ever see.”