Stolen Course(93)

“Yeah, um… Sure,” I say absently as my eyes stay glued to his tiny chest rising and falling.

“I know it's overwhelming and a lot to take in. You will probably forget half the stuff I tell you as soon as you walk out the door, but don't stress. We are here twenty-four hours a day, and there is no such thing as a ‘dumb question.’ First, let me give you his footprints so I don't forget.”

She hands me a piece of paper with impossibly small footprints. I stare at it for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with them, when she keeps going.

“Those are yours to keep, a small memento for the baby book. I sure bet your wife would love to see it.” She pauses to smile. I absently nod. “So like I said, he's doing very well for being five weeks early. He's breathing on his own, which is wonderful, and he has a very strong heart rate. He is breathing a little fast, but that's very normal for babies that are born by C-section. That typically resolves itself in a few days. The tube we placed in his mouth will be used to feed him until his respiratory rate slows down. Eventually we will remove it and he will take all of his feeds by bottle or by breast. The tube goes right into his stomach so he does not have to put forth the work to suck and swallow the milk…”

I pray to God that this is not the only time she is going to tell me this information because this sounds important and I can’t for the life of me process her words as fast as she’s saying them.

“The wires you see on his chest and foot are hooked to this monitor. They allow us to watch his heart rate, respiratory rate, and how well his body is oxygenating. Because he is small, we placed him in an isolette to help keep his body temperature normal. As he grows, we can slowly drop the temperature and then place him in an open crib. When he is in an open crib and eating all of his feelings by bottle or the breast, then he will be ready to go home.

“Now I know you want to know how long he is going to be here, and I will tell you what I tell all my parents. He is running the show.” Yeah, that’s definitely Emma’s baby. I laugh to myself. “If he does everything as he is supposed to, then he could leave as early as a week. As a rule of thumb, we tell people to expect them home by their due date. Your son, Mr. Jones, is doing very well, and we will do our best to get him home to you and your wife as soon as we can.”

Oh, I definitely understand those words and enthusiastically nod my head.

“Now, would you like to hold your son?”

“What? No.” I put my hands up and instantly back away like she’s holding a weapon. I know it’s my child, but I can’t hold him. He’s too frail. What if I hurt him or pull out that little tube that’s in his stomach? No way. I can’t do that.

“I’ll hold him,” Sarah says with a grin before turning to look at me. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” She immediately glances down at the floor.

I look over at the little guy all alone. He needs someone to hold him—someone who loves him—even if I’m not man enough to do it.

“Yeah, go ahead.” I wave to the nurse my approval.

They wrap all his wires into a blanket, and before I know it, they pass my entire life into the arms of a woman who, just hours ago, I would have told you stole everything from me. I watch as she cradles him with such tenderness that it make me jealous. Besides the doctors and nurses, Sarah Kate Erickson is the first person to ever hold my child. Who would have thought?

She looks down, runs her hand over his blond peach fuzz, and pulls his arm from the blanket. When he curls his tiny hand around her finger, I completely change my mind.

“I’m ready. I want to hold him.”

Her eyes flash to mine. With the same knowing smirk Emma gives me, she stands and hands him off to the nurse.

“Okay, Dad.” The nurse steps back over. “His temperature is getting a little low, so how about we try some skin-to-skin?”

“What the fu—I mean, what’s that?”

“If you don’t mind, we’ll need you to take off your shirt—”

I immediately peel it over my head without another thought.

“Well, okay then,” she responds, laughing. “I’ll unwrap him and put him against your chest then cover you both in a blanket. It’s great bonding time for the little guy, and it also helps to keep his temperature up.”

Sarah moves to switch positions with me, and I know the exact moment she sees my back because she releases a loud gasp. Not many people expect me to have so many tattoos. I don’t show them off or advertise them. I got them for myself. No one would understand the real emotion and meaning behind them anyway—well, except for Sarah.