Marcus and I were no strangers to the process of a c-section. Again he watched the doctor cut me open and reach in, pull out little baby boy out, them pump my uterus again, then he got to cut the umbilical cord of our son. Again, the cries were heard and my eyes filled up with tears. What a beautiful sound! He was premature so they took him right away to begin working on him. They places him into an incubator and we were unable to touch him. I was so sad that I could not hold him, kiss him. He was so tiny weighing in at six and a half pounds. He had so much hair and his head looked so much bigger than his body. After they brought me back to my room, I was still not able to see him. Marcus was able to go where they kept him and see him. The following day I was able to get up from the bed and carefully walk with a walker over to see him. I glanced down at this little precious baby and saw all this hair and round things stuck to his forhead. They had to shave a little of his hair off to stick those things. They were stuck all over his body. They told us his lungs were a little weak but had high hopes he would be just fine. Again, I was to spend a week in the hospital. I was finally able to have him in my room in the incubator, then a few days later, I finally got to hold him. He was so small! So fragile. I loved him so much. I couldn’t stop kissing him. I couldn’t wait to take him home and be out of the hospital. When the doctor was delivering our son they asked me if I wanted my tubes tied since they were right there. Both Marcus and I agreed. This was it. Our son would be the last child we would have. We had a girl and a boy. The perfect family.
We finally arrived home. A baby and flowers including a huge beautiful bouquet of blue roses sent from Marcus’s boss. After a few days, Marcus was suppose to go back to work. I really didn’t want him to leave but we needed the money and couldn’t afford for him not to work. I would eventually follow a week later, back to Lloyd, was the plan. Almost a week after Marcus left, we were all sitting watching television when I noticed our son had a fever. He was fidgety and not breastfeeding properly. It was hard to get him to eat at all. He was filling out just fine and was the most precious baby with huge eyes and a beautiful head if hair. He was now no longer so frail and fragile. Worried again, I contacted Marcus to tell him our boy was sick. The following day he was back. If anything was ever wrong with our kids, he dropped everything and was there as fast as he could be. We couldn’t get his fever down. We immediately decided to take him to the children’s hospital and have the doctors have a look as to why his fever was creeping up. He wasn’t sick, stuffy with a cold or anything so we were both puzzled as to what was wrong. As we started to get ready to head to the hospital, my father stood up from the couch and literally peed all over the floor. When he finished he said he had to do to the washroom. He wasn’t making any sense and began talking about his homeland. The family knew something was wrong so we called 911. The ambulance came and immediately assessed him. They told us they needed to take him to the hospital right away. As the ambulance left, Marcus and I followed shortly after to take our son to the children’s hospital. What was going on? So fast, everything had shifted and now everyone was in a panic. It amazing how fast life can change. Almost in an instant. We got to the children’s hospital and because sour son was still a newborn, they tended to him right away. They began drawing blood and doing tests to find out what was wrong. After a few hours, the doctor came to us and told us our son was having problems with his bladder and kidney. His bladder had some sort of a reflux that was shooting his per back into his kidneys instead of coming out. With antibiotics, they closely monitored him and ended up booking him in to stay. Marcus did not leave his side the whole time our son was in the hospital. I was back and forth tending to our daughter and trying to find out what was going on with my father. Thank God for having so many sisters. They were always so helpful and amazing. They were always there for us. In the blink of an eye, no hesitation. Whenever needed, they would literally drop everything and help in any way they could. I never went to the hospital to see my father. I didn’t really care to. My son was more important anyways. My would I have the slightest care how he was doing? He had hurt me for 20 years of my life. I was now suppose to care? Everything us sister’s did for my father after that was always a put on or a show. Just to keep the secret hidden. He was a diabetic as well so when he would ask us to get him a slurpee, we would gladly go running to the store for him. We would get to the store, grab a slurpee cup, go to the coffee dispensing machines, find the sugar, fill the cup half way with sugar then fill the rest with slurpee. He loved it. He always told us slurpees were too sweet but he loved them anyways. We would giggle when he drank them. He would always have to take more diabetic medications to counteract the sugar rushes.
Our son was finally getting better. His smiles melted my heart. He was always such a good baby. Slept and are well. Not fussy at all. We would know whenever anything was wrong because he would never be fussy. Even if his diaper was full, he patiently waited for us to figure it out with his ear to ear smiles. We knew the face. It was like he was grinning and star gazed looking at us like ” mommy and daddyyyyy..i have a surprise in my diaper”! We just knew. Thankfully the doctors told us he would not need surgery and the problem had fixed itself! It was like a miracle. His little body was still adjusting from its premature state and working itself out. Our little boy was going to be fine. We were so relieved that we were going to get to go home. We couldn’t bare to see them pull blood from his little heals anymore and we wanted that intravenous out! It had caused so many problems while he was there like loosening from his vein and his little hand puffing up like a marshmellow. He had also wet himself so bad when I arrived one morning while Marcus was still asleep by his bed. I walked over to his bedside and he was laying there smiling at me and started flaring his arms and legs so excited to see me as if to say good morning! I went to pick him up and squeeze him. He was soaked with pee. Right up to his neck and down to his toes. I quickly ripped his clothing off as his bottom lip began to quiver. Washed him with the bath in a bag sponge and dressed him with warm clothes. As I breast fed him, he looked up at me and wouldn’t eat from smiling. This boy had the means of continuously melting my heart. I would hold him up to my face, kiss him and giggle with him then try to feed him again. He would do the same thing over and over like it was a game. He was my little angel. Our children were our little gift from God worth more than anything else in this world.