Today I’m writing for Five Minute Friday, where we write flat out for five minutes, unedited, on a one-word prompt. Join the fun with your own post or just read what others have done with their 300 seconds. Check it out at http://lisajobaker.com/category/five-minute-friday/ Today’s word is Small.
Two pounds ten ounces. Almost big, compared to some preemies they are saving nowadays, but back in 1980 he was one of the littlest ones in the NICU. Born at 29 weeks, he was teetering on the edge of “too small to live,” and I could tell by the way the other parents, the parents of the bigger babies, avoided eye contact that they thought we wouldn’t have a baby to visit for too many days.
Scottie was in NICU for three months. He faced challenge after challenge, setback after setback. Just when we would start to think we were out of the woods, something else would happen: a pulmonary bleed, a cranial bleed, a seizure, and of course the ever-present jaundice that plagues preemies. Then we were hit with the terrifying news that he had hydrocephalous and would need surgery to have a shunt implanted in his brain, and then multiple surgeries throughout his life to change it. Then came the miracle on the day the surgery was scheduled – it had resolved itself and no surgery would be needed. Praise be to God.
Three months of high highs and low lows, and then we got to take our first born child home at a whopping four and a half pounds.
He was so small. And I wanted to wrap him up and protect him his whole life, protect him from anything and everything that might ever hurt him again, because in those first three months he’d been poked and prodded, stuck with needles and suffered so much more pain than most people ever suffer in their whole lives. I wanted to put him in a bubble.
But of course I couldn’t, and I didn’t, and he grew up and romped and played and did all the things boys do.
Tomorrow I am going to his house to celebrate his daughter’s first birthday. My son, my little tiny baby boy, has a child of his own now. And I expect even though she was born full term and just as healthy as can be, he’d like to wrap her up in a bubble too. But he won’t, and she’ll grow up to be a fine woman some day. I know this because she has a momma who loves her more than life and a daddy who adores her. She has parents who love each other and are committed to one another and to her. My boy is a good father, and I’m so very proud of him.