2003 Journal Links

Oh, how I've missed Days of Our Lives! Always working, I haven't had a chance to watch the soap opera since spring semester of my senior year at Kenyon when exchanging predictable melodrama for the poetry of Robert Frost felt like a fair trade. Today one of the actors has just received upsetting news regarding the baby she's carrying. Her doctor mentioned waiting for the "ultrasound results." Even though the writers' have their medical procedures slightly confused, I'm still compelled to shake my head. "If she only knew," I utter under my breath.

Archie awakes. He is lying in the bassinette John and I have set up in our keeping room. He stirs and I go to him. Careful not to pick the baby up underneath his arms so as not to stretch his healing incision and breastbone, I scoop the little man against my chest. As my face nears his, he forms a perfect "o" with his lips and coos. Not bad for a baby whose development should be delayed due to the many weeks he spent sedated, languishing on the ventilator. "Right back at you, Archie!" I say in response. "Ooooooo, baby boy. Oooooo…"

Today Archie is eating better than he ever has before. He attacks his bottle without hesitation and sucks down his formula as if he's finally figured out what this feeding business is all about. I tell the nurse who calls me from Archie's pediatrician's office all this, only she doesn't seem to understand the extent of my enthusiasm. "Just make sure he has several wet diapers and frequent bowel movements," she advises.

"Of course I will," I respond.

"When will Home Health be out to check his weight?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," I offer. "The woman said sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"Ok, I'll talk to you then," the nurse says and then hangs up. I sigh as I put down the phone. When I find myself resenting the checks and balances system the baby's doctors have crafted to monitor his progress, I try to remind myself that it is all intended to protect Archie. This nurse doesn't know that I spend every moment of every day worrying about my baby's wellbeing and doing what I can to see that he thrives under my care.

This afternoon, though, it's just my son and I. After the baby finishes his bottle and falls asleep in my arms, I place him back in his bassinette. I pour a cup of coffee and consult my calendar. The BabyNet coordinator is supposed to get back to me by the end of this week about setting up Archie's first at-home visit with a therapist who will work on the baby's motor skills. In two weeks Archie and I have appointments to see the hematologist and cardiologist. I put my calendar away and return to the couch, hoping to read a chapter or two in my book before Archie wakes up again and wants to play with me. My eyes grow heavier with each page. The actors' voices sound loud and slurry now as sleep envelops me, my senses dimming. Archie's whine suddenly snaps me back from the void. Promises to keep, I think as I get up off the couch and move toward the bassinette. Miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep.