�They didn�t want me to tell you because of your blood pressure, but Tim was born with a cleft palette, low muscle tone, an enlarged head and liver,� she said in a rush. �I didn�t think it was right for them to keep it from you.�
Remembering the picture I asked her, �Why couldn�t I see the cleft palette in the picture?�
�It is just in the soft palette, not his lip,� she answered gesturing towards her mouth. Then she remarked, �I think he looks just like you.�
�I think he looks just like his dad,� I commented.
�Well, I got to get to work.� She replied, looking at the clock, �Can I take the picture to show everyone my grandson?�
�Yeah, I�m going to see him after breakfast.� I answered.
�I�ll be back later,� she said as she put on her coat and prepared to leave.
My mom left and I barely remembered our conversation. I still felt as if my son was fine. He might need a surgery to fix his mouth but he would be fine. After breakfast, I asked the nurse to take me to see my son. She brought in a wheelchair as I pressed the button on my I.V. for my pain medication. When she returned she gave me a folded up blanket to hold on my stomach to support the muscles. She raised the head of the bed as high as it would go and told me to let her know how I wanted her to help. I told her I could do it. I held the blanket as tight as I could against my stomach while I grabbed the side rail of the bed. Very slowly I pulled myself upright trying not to use my stomach. Every time I forgot and used my stomach it would feel like someone was ripping my stomach out with a pitchfork. The nurse moved my feet over the edge of the bed then stood behind me and gave me some support as I sat in the wheelchair. Finally, I was going to see my son.
I saw the viewing window on the left, but the nurse wheeled me into a room on the right. This confused me because it still hadn�t sunk in how sick my son really was. �Why wasn�t he with the other babies?� The room was dim. Tim was the only baby in it. The nurse stopped me in front of an incubator that was at eye level to me. All I could see was a diaper and two little feet. Then I noticed the nurses moving some things to make room for the wheelchair. They moved me over so I could see his face. He was the cutest sleeping baby I had ever seen. I just wanted to hold him, but with all the wires and the oxygen I knew it was impossible. I noticed what looked like a clear plastic cake plate cover over his head. I asked the nurse what it was. She said it was the oxygen. After I watched him for a while the nurse took me back to my room. When I got there, I used the pain medication again and let it work it�s magic as I went to sleep.
That evening I awoke to a new roommate complaining about how much she hurt as she walked from the restroom to her bed. How dare she complain when I couldn�t even go to the restroom without calling a nurse!
Just then my aunt walked in. I had tears streaming down my face as I told her �It�s not fair.� I pointed to the next bed. �She just had her baby and it�s with her. I had Tim 24 hours ago and still haven�t been able to hold him.�
My aunt was caught off guard. She tried to console me, but seemed at a loss for words.
Finally, I dried my eyes and said, �At least we can go see him.�
This time I could walk down. I was glad for my I.V. though, because I clung to the pole for support. We walked very slowly and the hall seemed to grow. I didn�t think we would ever get there.
