Day 3
It’s been three months since your day 3. Day three started early early in the morning, before I even went to sleep. Your meds had taken all the life out of you. I hadn’t realized the good tone you were born with until it was gone. Your first night, you had slept on us, clinging to us as you rose and fell on our chests. As I went to bed past midnight on your second night, you were so limp I was scared that if I jerked in my sleep, your neck might jerk too much too. Around 1:30am on your third day, I took you down the creaky stairs. The couch sprung to life as your grandparents grabbed for their glasses and Aunt Carrie smoothed her bedhead. They looked surprised, silently pleading that I wasn’t coming down to tell them you had finally stopped breathing. I instead told them I couldn’t do it – I couldn’t stay awake any longer. It was now Monday morning and I hadn’t slept more than a few hours since the previous Wednesday night. I handed you to Grandma Bubbles and I was afraid. Afraid you w