“I think…” he paused to think with a small pointer finger on his lips. “I think Gampa would be good.”
I smiled. “What would we call Grandpa then? What about zebra?” I reached out and tickled his naked belly.
He shrieked and pushed my hand away and climbed into the warm water. “Umm, that’s not a vewy good name,” he told me as he raised skeptical eyes to mine.
“Ok. How about puppy?” I tried again with a smile.
“Yeah. Puppy’s good.”
“Or what about Wilbur or Daffy or Scooby?” I suggested facetiously.
“No. I don’t like those names. I think puppy is good. O apple juice.” He picked up a handful of bubbles and dropped them on top of his head. I scooped some up and applied them to his chin and grabbed the hand mirror to show him. I laughed at his delighted grin.
“I look like Santa,” he giggled. “Maybe we should call my butha Santa.”
“What about Oscar the Grouch or Daniel Tiger?” I tried again. “Or Thomas Train?”
He paused with a handful of bubbles in the air. “Maybe…” He shrugged his shoulders, uncommitted.
“Let’s ask Daddy when we get to the hospital- ” My phone ringing cut me off.
“Hey, Adri. What’s up?” I answered, shoving the phone between my ear and shoulder and grabbing a towel for Jeran.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve been looking at ticket prices and I’m thinking of coming up to visit.”
“That would be awesome,” I squealed. “When are you thinking and I will check on tickets too?”
“Well, not for at least a month. I need to arrange time off from work. So what’s happening with you, supernanny? Are you all settled?”
“Yeah. And Trevor just called and the baby is here. I’m just getting Jeran out of the tub so we can go to the hospital.” I looked around me. “Speaking of Jeran…Where is he?”
I hung the towel on the back of the door and headed down the hall. “Jeran?” I called through the house. “Hey, Adri, I hate to cut this short, but Jeran is running naked somewhere in the house and the last time that happened it was like a puppy all over the floor.”
“Good luck. Don’t rub his nose in it,” she laughed and hung up.
“Jeran! You get back here, you little monster.”
I heard the ding of the elevator and bounced on the balls of my feet as I watched the doors slowly open to the twelfth floor of the Kohler Pavilion. Didn’t they know we were in a hurry? It took all the persuasion skills I was blessed with to drag Jeran through the parking garage and into the elevator. When we finally made it to the elevator, it took more skills, some of which I didn’t know I possessed, to get him off. Big metal boxes with buttons are fascinating to a two year old. We could have ridden in the elevator all day and Jeran would have been entertained. Trevor and Stacy were waiting for us, but Jeran wanted to see his new brother first, and this elevator was trying my patience. When there was just enough room for me to slip through, I readjusted my grip on Jeran’s little hand and made my way down the long hall searching for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
I pushed the call button on the wall and waited until I heard, “Can I help you?”
“My name is Sophie Mitchell and I have a big brother with me who’s pretty excited to see the Mitchell baby,” I told the nurse over the intercom.
“Did you check in at the front desk before you came up?” came the reply.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What was your name again?”
“Sophie Mitchell.”
Instead of buzzing me in, I looked up to see a petite nurse in lavender scrubs covered in tiny, multicolored stethoscopes exit the doors to meet me. She checked her clipboard for my name and said, “Because we limit the number of visitors in the NICU, you are only admitted if your name is on the list of approved visitors the parents fill out. I’m sorry, but I don’t see your name on the list. You’ll have to get his parents to add your name. But wait just a second.” She put a finger in the air. “I have an idea.”
She smiled at me and pushed the button on the wall as she turned to go back between the doors. I watched as she walked across the room to a small curtained off section. The nurse pushed the curtain aside to reveal a little room with a wooden rocking chair, medical equipment, and an incubator decorated with a colorful homemade name tag and a three by five card with the baby’s stats on it. The nurse unplugged some tubes and pushed Dylan’s incubator across the room and up closer to the doors so I could peek at him through the little square window on the door.
My heart melted and I cooed as if he could hear me. I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at all the tubes hooked up to his little body. How could there even be enough room on his little body for all those tubes? I sent a prayer heavenward that this beautiful baby boy could be strong and fight to stay alive until he could get the help he needed.
I held Jeran up so he could see through the window. “There’s your brother,” I told him around the hitch in my throat. “Isn’t he so cute?”
“My butha,” Jeran said in awe. “Cute.” I laughed softly and we watched the baby for a few minutes, soaking in his fresh-from-heaven glow. Jeran struggled to get down so I said, “Wave bye-bye to your brother and let’s go find Momma and Daddy.” I mouthed thank you to the nurse as Jeran waved. We smiled at each other as I wiped my eyes and turned to go.
I admired the soothing nature artwork on the walls as Jeran and I walked briskly down the hall hoping to find Stacy’s room quickly. As I turned a corner, glancing at the numbered plaques on the wall beside each door, I saw Trevor. I smiled as I picked up the pace and called his name. The look on his face when he turned and opened his arms to me caused my smile to slip. I ran into his arms as the tears began streaming down his cheeks.
“Oh, Trev, he’s beautiful,” I cried, squeezing him tight. “You can’t even tell he’s struggling. From the outside, he looks like a healthy little boy.”
I heard Trevor heave a shuddering sigh and felt his tears mingle with mine on my cheek. “There is a huge success rate with this kind of defect, but it’s still scary. Stacy is so upset. Post labor hormones…geez." He ran a hand through his already messy hair. "She’s not able to get up and around yet. She hasn’t even really been able to see him except for a glimpse as they whisked him away.” He clung tighter to me and cried softly, his body shaking. “We’re both so scared. I love him so much already, you know? I’m so glad you are here.” He stepped out of my arms and reached down to pick Jeran up. “Jeran needs you.” He hugged him close. “We all need you. Thank you for coming.” I squeezed him with one arm around his waist and then stepped back to smack him on the shoulder.
“What’s the big idea not putting my name on the approved visitor list?” I demanded. “The favorite aunt…there should be no question,” I scolded. He laughed as I hoped he would as he swiped at his eyes.
“I know,” he told me apologetically. “Things were so crazy and happening so fast, I didn’t have time. Stacy is sleeping now and I don’t want to wake her. Let’s go get your name on that list and see if you still have the magic aunt touch.” He slung his arm around my shoulders.
“My butha sleeps in a box,” Jeran informed Trevor. “He have elphant nose.” I grinned at Trevor’s look of confusion as we headed back to the NICU.
“How was your day, little man?” Trevor asked Jeran over dinner the next night.
“We went to the pahk,” Jeran told him around a mouthful of green beans. “I didn’t like that gehl. She wouldn’t let me slide.” Trevor looked at me questioningly.
“There was a little girl who wanted him to play with her, but he didn’t want to right then, so she blocked the slide in an effort to force his attention on her,” I explained. “This casserole is pretty good. Maybe we could get the recipe.”
“Yeah,” Trevor snorted around a mouthful, “and every other casserole that will be coming in for the next week and a half.”
“Don’t look a gift horse…” I reminde
d him in a sing song voice. “It could be a casserole made by yours truly that we were suffering through tonight.”
“Good point. Have I told you yet how delicious this…” Trevor’s phone rang interrupting our banter. He checked the caller ID and apologized in advance for breaking the ‘no phone at the table’ rule.
“I need to get this.” He put the phone on speaker. “So you can help me remember everything to tell Stacy later,” he whispered.
“Mr. Mitchell, this is Dr. Harmon. I regret that I have to tell you this for more reasons than one, and over the telephone, but I have been in a biking accident and will be out for a few weeks at best.” I watched Trevor put a hand to his forehead and close his eyes.
“I have asked a Dr. James Anderson to take over the care of little Dylan. Dr. Anderson is newly out of medical school, but he completed his residency in Boston at one of the best pediatric cardiology hospitals in the country. His training may exceed mine in some instances because I’m finding that I’m getting old. Don’t ever get old, Mr. Mitchell,” the doctor said with a somewhat pained chuckle. “I have full confidence that Dr. Anderson is the right doctor for your family. He will meet up with you on his rounds at the hospital. I have given him all the information he needs. I wish you good luck and many happy years with your new baby.”
“We are sorry to hear about your accident," Trevor said. "We wish you a speedy recovery. Thank you for making us aware of the situation personally. We appreciate the time you have taken with us and Dylan. You are a good doctor and a good man. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Trevor pressed end on his phone with a long, weary sigh. “Well, it’s back to square one, so to speak. Sure hope this new guy is as good as Dr. Harmon seems to think.”
James
“You outta here, nurse Zeke?”I asked, passing him on my way into the NICU.
“You know it,” he told me, covering a yawn.
“You need to lay off the partying. Then you could make it through a shift without falling asleep.”
“You need to party more,” came his joking reply. He nodded down the hall. “You met the Mitchell’s yet?” I turned in the direction Zeke indicated in time to see a man lift a toddler and toss him into the air, catching him easily. The toddler and the woman with them had their backs to me so I couldn’t make out their expressions, but I watched joy replace the worry on the man’s face as he interacted with who I assumed was his son. The little boy squealed in delight when his father tossed him into the air a second time and chanted, “Again, again, Daddy.” The man shook his head and lowered the toddler to the floor. With one arm around the woman’s shoulders and the little boys hand in his, the family turned and disappeared down the hall. I could hear them talking softly as they went. In the time I had worked in the NICU, it didn’t get any easier seeing the pain and constant worry of the unknown that the families endured.
“That lady is pret-ty fine.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.
“Have some respect,” I said in disgust.
Zeke shrugged. “It’s the truth, Doc.”
“l need to get in there,” I told him, cutting the conversation short. “Go get some sleep.”
“Ms. Gina, who is singing?” I asked, looking up from the computer screen on the desk at the nurses station. I was finishing up my reports on my afternoon rounds before calling it a long day when I heard the peaceful melody filter down the hall like Oregon mist reaching and encompassing everything around it. I thought I was hearing things at first, but when the melody changed dynamics, I concluded it was live, not coming from a phone or radio somewhere.
I walked part way down the hall and peeked around the corner. My breath caught in my chest as I watched a beautiful woman sing softly to the Mitchell baby and I felt physical pain. I couldn’t swallow around the lump forming in my throat. Whether it was from her beauty or the tender scene before me, I didn’t know. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder as she lovingly looked down at the baby nestled in her arms. It was as if a bubble of peace surrounded them and I didn’t want to disturb it. I’d never seen her and she was someone I’m sure I wouldn’t have missed if she’d been in before. I could suddenly empathize with the Grinch when his heart grew ten sizes except that mine was attempting to break through what felt like ten feet of ice surrounding it. I was surprised by the overwhelming desire I had to be where she was, in her circle of peace. I had to meet her.
“That’s Ms. Mitchell, Doctor.” Ms. Gina told me, standing half way and peeking over the counter for a glimpse of Mrs. Mitchell.
I was suddenly transported back to the hallway this morning watching a little family take advantage of a happy moment on an otherwise emotional rollercoaster. Or not meet her, I thought.
“She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” Ms. Gina continued.
I nodded my head absentmindedly. She was getting around remarkably well for just having had a baby. I did my best to not notice, but she was in great shape. Phenomenal, really. You’d never know she’d had a baby only a few days ago. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the image of her trim body.
Ms. Gina continued talking, unaware of my internal struggle. “She sings to that baby all the time. She’s only been coming for a few days now, but she has a way with the babies. Goes around to each one that belongs to the state and talks or sings to them. You can almost see the babies respond to the singing. We could use a lot more like her.” She looked at me thoughtfully. “You should go meet her.”
Suddenly, I was terrified to look at Mrs. Mitchell let alone speak to her. The draw I felt to her was not okay since she was a married woman. I’d talked with Mr. Mitchell about Dylan during morning rounds since he had been transferred to my care. One more day without meeting her wasn’t going to hurt anything.
“I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be,” I lied, grabbing my keys and satchel. I needed to be at my apartment for a shower, so it wasn’t really a lie, I justified. “I’ll catch up with her another day. Have a good night.”
“You as well, Dr. Anderson.”
Sophie
Where you from again, Ms. Sophie?” Ms. Gina asked over my quiet singing two evenings later. “I’m detecting a slight twang,” she teased.
Mrs. Regina Black, known throughout the hospital and probably most of Portland as Ms. Gina, fit her name in more ways than one. She was from the deep South and her drawl was still thick as molasses after all these years. She liked to tease me about my wimpy Texas twang. Said, “it was barely worth the effort if folks could still understand ya.” She was quickly becoming one of my favorites here at the hospital. She was fluffy and gentle and all kinds of motherly goodness. No wonder the babies thrived under her care.
“Yes, ma’am. Texas proud. I’m getting pretty good at keeping the y’alls under wraps, but I can’t quite get a handle on the twang.” I told the matronly nurse with a smile.
Ms. Gina chuckled and shook her head as she stuck her hand through another incubator window and took the miniature hand of a sick little infant. I gazed at the tender scene in wonder. How did she come here everyday and not feel exhaustion seeping through every pore? She seemed as giving and full of love at the beginning of her shift as at the end.
“I don’t know how you do it, how you’ve done it all these years, Ms. Gina,” I told her as I pushed off the floor with my foot to set the rocker in motion again. “I’m more than exhausted when I leave here each night and I only care for one. Inadequately, I might add. You must have been born for this.” Her slight blush at my praise endeared her to me all the more.
“Aw, sugar, it’s the good Lord who keeps me going. I just try to give a little of His love to each of these sweet babies like He would if He was here,” she crooned in a sing-song voice as if she was talking to the baby she was caring for instead of me. Her voice and the steady beeps of monitors in the background enveloped me in a peaceful cocoon.
I snuggled little Dylan closer and leaned my head back against the smooth wood. Listening to Ms. Gina’s loving cadence,
combined with the warmth of my nephew and the rocking, was likely to put me to sleep.
“Thank you for all you do for my family,” I murmured, my eyes getting heavy. “You are an angel.”
“And a saint,” she added. “Don’t I know it.”
We laughed together and I forced myself up from the hard chair with a quiet groan. “Ugh, this chair sure doesn’t get any softer with each sitting. Is it bath night tonight?”
“Sure is. You wanna get the little guy in his birthday suit and I’ll get him smelling like an angel again.”
I carefully unsnapped Dylan’s onesie and slid it up his chest. I pulled his smooth, skinny arms out of the sleeves and over his head. Then I lifted him and transferred him into Ms. Gina’s waiting arms. I followed her to the sink and watched as she adjusted the water temperature and, with a washcloth, washed Dylan’s little body. When she had him clean and sparkly, she wrapped him in a warmed blanket and handed him back to me. I walked Dylan over to his bed and lifted the side. I leaned down to smother his little forehead with kisses and breath in his yummy baby scent.
When I had his diaper fastened and his clean onesie on, I whispered, “Good night, miracle boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ms. Gina came over to help with all the tubes and gave him a soft pat when he was all settled. I put a hand on her shoulder and said, “Take care of him for us.”
She reached her big hand up and patted mine. “Me and the good Lord will be watching over him tonight. Don’t you worry none now.”
How could I worry with her keeping watch? I waved goodbye to a nurse as I walked past the nurses station and paused to swipe my visitor’s ID badge before I walked out the doors, comforted in the knowledge that those babies were in Ms. Gina’s and the Lord’s capable hands.
I had come a little earlier than usual to visit Dylan today. Stacy was being discharged from the hospital and I offered to pick her up so Trevor wouldn’t have to miss work. The 'Welcome Home' banner Jeran and I colored hung in the front window of the house. Jeran was having a play date with a little boy from church so I could get Stacy situated at home without having to worry that Jeran was running naked down the sidewalk like he did following his bath yesterday, or digging up all of Stacy’s flowers in the front flowerbeds to bury his Matchbox cars. That kid was quick.
Matters of the Heart Page 3
