Hart to Heart, page 16
“Jason,” my mom said calmly, standing up and putting her hands on my cheeks. “If the doctors say it’s time, then it’s what’s best for everyone. Addison has been getting steroid injections for weeks just in case this happened. The baby is gonna be fine.”
“What about Jax?” I asked. “I can’t just leave him.”
“You can,” she said. “And you will. I’m right here with him, and as much as I’d love to be closer to you when my new grandson is born, I can wait until Mick gets here.”
“Okay,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks, Ma.” I turned and bent over to kiss Jax on the head. “I’ll be back soon to tell you all about your baby brother,” I whispered. As I headed toward the door, a thought occurred to me. “Bri, can you call…”
“I already called her,” she interrupted. “Kristina is getting everyone in place to get the cord blood for testing now and is faxing the paperwork over to the CDC as we speak.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I rushed past her, down the hall and to the elevators. It took less than five minutes to get to Addison’s room, but when I barged in, I had apparently missed a lot already.
“Jason!” Addison said through tears, her hands clenching the railing so hard her knuckles were white. “He’s not supposed to be here yet, Jason! Make them give me something to stop it!” she cried.
“Jason,” the doctor said, “her water broke, and there’s nothing we can do to stop the contractions. We can’t give her that much magnesium, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. There is as major risk of infection to the baby if we don’t deliver soon. He’s as ready as he’s going to be. We can’t wait.”
I rushed to Addison’s bedside and grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles as she squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I didn’t mean it,” she cried when I grabbed her hand.
“What are you talking about, babe?” A dozen people milled about, setting up equipment and racing around like they were preparing for the worst-case scenario.
“I didn’t mean it when I said I would choose Jaxon over the baby,” she said as tears ran down her face. “I can’t choose. I would never be able to choose. I’m so sorry! Please, God, make it stop! I’m sorry!”
“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, brushing her tears away with my free hand. “Those were just words you said when you were mad, okay? I know you didn’t mean that you wanted something bad to happen, okay? I just told my mom I wanted to punch God in the face. You think I meant that?”
She hiccupped through her tears and shook her head, visibly calming down.
“Exactly. I know you’re scared, baby. But he’s had a lot of steroids to help his lungs grow. He’s gonna be fine.” I wouldn’t let her know I was just as scared as she was. She needed me now, and I could be strong for a little while longer. I had to be. “Can you trust me on this?”
She looked into my eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Okay. Then let’s have a baby.”
Just then, she squeezed my hand tighter than I had ever felt, and an almost feral-sounding moan came out of her mouth.
“Push through it, Addison,” the doctor said. “The stronger you push, the faster this is over.”
“I can’t!” she resisted. “Please! It hurts so bad!”
“Doesn’t she have an epidural?” I asked, surprised that she was in so much pain. I honestly thought that would have been done already.
“The labor came on too quickly,” the doctor explained, still keeping her eyes underneath the blue sheet that was draped over Addison’s legs. “Even if we could get the anesthesiologist here in the next couple of minutes, the epidural wouldn’t even kick in until after the delivery. Here comes another one. Push, Addison!”
I held her hand and one leg like they had shown me as a nurse counted to ten. The contractions seemed to be coming closer together. Or at least my hand was getting squeezed a lot more. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just kept encouraging her and kissing her knuckles as I watched the woman I loved more than anything in this world suffer through the most unimaginable pain I had ever seen. And I admit…I felt like the world’s biggest pussy.
For years, I had done my own share of complaining about injuries. Twisted knees, broken fingers, massive bruises. But this…this was on a whole different level of pain. Addison was literally being gutted from the inside out. I would never, ever look at her the same way again. She was the rock star when it came to pain…not me.
“One more push, Addison. He’s almost here,” the doctor said. “Jason, come down here closer. You’re about to see your son be born.”
I hesitated, not wanting to leave Addison. But she didn’t even seem to notice I was there. She was too focused on what she was doing.
With one final scream, I watched as Addison pushed our son out of her body and into the doctor’s arms.
Holy.
Shit.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was the smallest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Like a tiny little kitten or something. Except he was covered in blood and this white goo.
“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding him up for us to see. Before we could even react, the baby was whisked out of her arms by a waiting nurse, who took him straight to a tall table covered with a blue sheet. I’m not even sure who cut his umbilical cord. Someone else then moved right next to the doctor, ready with some vials and other medical paraphernalia.
“Don’t forget the cord blood,” Addison whispered, sounding as exhausted as she looked.
“Oh, we haven’t forgotten,” the person with the vials answered. “As soon as the placenta passes, we’ll have everything we need to get that ball rolling.”
Seconds later, the baby was being rolled out of the room. Addison hadn’t even held him yet.
“Where are they taking him?” I asked. I had never done this before, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I felt like a dumbass.
“They’re taking him to the NICU,” said one of the nurses, who had stopped what she was doing to come around the bed and talk to me. “I know that was a really quick introduction to your son. Much quicker than we like. But with him being so premature, we need to get him to the NICU as soon as possible.”
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked, for the first time feeling real fear that his life might be in danger, too. Not anxiety like I had been feeling. But fear.
“He actually looked really good,” she said. “His color was good. His APGAR scores were excellent, considering his gestational age. Of course, they’ll know more once they get him settled in. But he didn’t show any additional warning signs or anything.”
I let out the deep breath I had apparently been holding. “Okay, good. Thank you.”
“No problem,” she answered as she started to remove the fetal monitor that was still attached to Addison’s midsection. “Does he have a name yet?”
“Uhhhh,” I began.
“Matthew Bennett,” Addison said quietly. “It came to me today. I never got a chance to tell you. Matthew Bennett Hart, after your father and mine.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s perfect,” I said, kissing her again. “Matthew Bennett it is.”
An hour later, I walked into the neonatal intensive care unit where my boy had been taken. It was a large room with a couple dozen clear plastic boxes, each with a baby in it. They were tiny. So, so tiny. And they were all attached to a bunch of tubes.
A young, blond nurse approached me cautiously. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yeah, um, I got this wristband from the doctor,” I said, holding up my wrist to show her. “They said my son was brought here when he was born a little while ago.”
“Can I see your wristband, please?” I held it out for her, and she scanned it with some handheld device. It beeped once. “Oh, yes! Baby Boy Hart! Follow me and I’ll take you to him.”
“How’s he doing, anyway?” I asked as I followed her. “They didn’t tell us much when he was born.”
“Considering how early he is, he’s doing remarkably well,” the nurse said. She rounded the corner to a smaller, more secluded area. There were only two incubators in this section, each with all the attached cords and monitors, and two rocking chairs.
I stopped walking as she approached the only incubator in use. “Is that him?” I asked, not quite sure what to do.
She smiled up at me. “Sure is. Come on over, Dad, and meet your son. It won’t hurt him to be close to him.”
I walked slowly over to the box and finally looked inside. I could feel all the air whoosh out of my lungs like I’d been caught in an unexpected tackle.
He was smaller than I remembered from just a little while before. He had an IV in his tiny arm. An oxygen tube in his tiny nose. Little white circles attached to wires on his tiny chest. A little bandage with a glowing red light on his tiny toe.
And he was so damn beautiful. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, with the possible exception of my wife.
“According to his measurements, it looks like he is about fifteen inches long and weighs four pounds, five ounces,” the nurse said. “He’s a big boy!”
“That sounds really small to me.”
“For a thirty-three weeker, that’s actually very, very big,” she responded. “If he had gone full term, he easily could have been over ten pounds.”
I smiled, but I never took my eyes off my boy. I was so overwhelmed by what I was feeling. I was happy, so damn happy. And proud. And scared. And at peace.
“Would you like to hold him?” she asked me.
I whipped my head up to look at her. “I can hold him? Isn’t he too sick for that?”
“I actually think he’s strong enough to do what’s called a Kangaroo Hold. It’s skin-to-skin contact. We find that when the babies get to snuggle into their parents with nothing in the way, they recover faster,” she explained. “They learn to regulate their temperatures better, eat better, grow faster. It’s up to you, of course.”
“Yeah!” I said with a smile. “I’d love to hold him. What do I do, just take off my shirt and sit down?”
“Let me go grab a couple of helpers, and we’ll get you all set up,” she answered. “Just hang tight for a minute and I’ll be right back.”
A couple minutes later she returned with a short, stout older nurse and a very tall, dark-headed woman. I don’t think she was a nurse, but she was obviously staff of some sort.
“Okay, Mr. Hart, we’re gonna have you take off your shirt and wrap your torso in this blanket, then sit down in this rocking chair,” she started to explain. “We need to be able to get the baby to your bare chest, and then we’ll wrap the blanket around you guys so you’re wrapped in it together, okay?”
“Okay. But how am I going to hold him with all the wires?” I asked, feeling a little apprehensive. I didn’t want to accidentally pull one of the tubes out of him or something.
“That’s why there are two of us,” she answered. “You just get ready to hold him and we’ll worry about everything attached to him. Do you have a phone with you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I turned the volume off though.”
“Go ahead and hand your phone to Mindy,” she said, referring to the tall woman. “Make sure your camera is on, and once you two are settled, she’ll take some pictures of the first time you hold your son.”
“Really?” I asked, feeling the smile cross my face. “That would be… Yeah, thanks!” I handed her my phone and showed her the camera on it. It wasn’t hard. I was sure she had used an iPhone before.
Once I got my shirt off and settled myself on the chair in the blanket, I watched as the two nurses opened the incubator and pulled my tiny little baby out. He squeaked as they organized all the cords, and they cooed at him as they worked.
“Are you ready?” the nurse asked one more time. I just nodded my head, feeling like I was about to burst.
The second his little baby skin touched me, I felt this weird feeling in my chest. I had never felt it before in my life. It’s like my heart literally broke open from how much love I was experiencing. So this was what they meant when they said you loved your children so much it hurt.
The nurses worked quickly to show me where to put my hands and to wrap us up so he wouldn’t get cold. I heard Mindy taking pictures, but it didn’t really register. I was too busy looking at this tiny little bundle and feeling him in my hands. He was so small—he fit easily in one palm, which meant I could stroke his arms and his legs and his head with my other hand.
“We’ll give you guys some privacy,” the nurse said. “If you get uncomfortable or he starts to get really fussy, just say my name. I’m Kristen, and I’ll be right around the corner.”
“I’m Jason,” I said, still not looking away from my son.
“Make sure to talk to him, Jason,” Kristen said. “He recognizes your voice.” With that, I was alone with my son for the very first time.
“Hey, little man,” I said quietly as I looked down at his sweet face. I felt him snuggle into me, getting comfortable. He squeaked and grunted while he wiggled, making me laugh. “You’re just a handsome boy, aren’t you? You look just like your big brother, but with your mama’s lips. I bet you have her smile, too, huh?”
I paused, just enjoying the feel of his little body up against mine while we rocked.
“I’m your daddy,” I finally whispered. “And I’m so, so glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to meet you ever since we found out you were coming. I know things are gonna be hard for the next couple of months with you being in the hospital and all, but I know you’re a strong boy, Matty. You’re strong like your mama. And strong like your brother. I’d say you were strong like me, but I’m pretty sure they kick my ass in the strength department these days.” I chuckled. “I love you so much, little man. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? I won’t leave you to fight this on your own. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
I leaned my head down as much as I could and kissed him on the top of the head. I caught a whiff of his sweet baby scent, and I knew—I knew—I would never be the same man again.
I’d be better. Because I knew this little miracle was just the beginning of good things for this family.
It had been two months since Addison had seen Jaxon face-to-face. They were in the same hospital, but with her confined to one wing and him to another, she hadn’t been allowed to see him. Sure, they had been FaceTiming whenever Jax was feeling up to it, but that wasn’t every day. And the lighting was always low like he preferred. So Addison had never gotten a really good look at how bad off he was physically. Until now.
She gasped and her hands went over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. “Ohmygod,” she half whispered. “Ohmygod, Jason, my baby boy. Ohmygod.”
She walked over to Jaxon’s bedside as fast as she could, given that she had given birth less than twenty-four hours before. As she got to his side, she collapsed on the chair next to him, and the tears started to flow.
“He…” she started. “He looks so, so sick, Jason. Ohmygod. How much weight has he lost?”
“About fifteen pounds.”
She started stroking the soft peach-fuzz hair he had finally started to grow back. His lips were chapped, and there were deep, dark circles under his eyes. His skin coloring had a greyish sort of tint that was exaggerated by the low lighting he preferred.
“Does he sleep a lot?” she asked, eyes carefully looking over his entire body, as she started stroking his frail, skinny arms.
I sank down in the chair next to her, knowing I finally had to tell her everything. I had spent the last two months giving her information on a need-to-know basis to help keep her stress levels under control. But now that baby Matty had been born, there was no reason to hold anything back anymore. “He’s been in a lot of pain lately, especially when it started spreading, so they’ve been giving him more pain meds. The meds tend to knock him out.”
I heard her sniffle as she tried to take it all in. “So he’s really dying,” she said, her voice cracking. “I mean, I knew that the treatments weren’t working, but to see him like this. Oh god, Jason. My baby is really dying.”
I grabbed her hand but left her alone as she gently touched him as only a mother can. She was coming to grips with what I had known and kept from her for weeks.
This was really it.
We had one last chance. And it was a slim one.
We sat silently for what seemed like hours…me holding her hand. Her gently stroking Jaxon’s hair, face, arms, hands. It was the worst moment of my life.
“Can you stay with him a second?” she asked as she stood up and wiped her eyes. “I need to use the restroom really fast. Post-birth issues and all.”
I smiled weakly at her as she made her way to the other room.
“Daddy?” I heard Jaxon say weakly. He had only called me that once before, right after we had been talking about his late father, Austin, and he was falling asleep. I wasn’t positive if he was asking for me or Austin. “Daddy?” he said again.
“Hey,” I said gently, leaning over the bed and stroking his head. “Are you looking for me, buddy? I’m right here.”
“I had a dream about you,” he said, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him. “I dreamed that we were playing football together.” I smiled. “We were both on the Cowboys, Daddy. And we kept tackling the other quarterback together.”
I chuckled. “Who was it? I know a few we could take down.”
He adjusted himself on his bed and licked his lips, eyes still closed. “I don’t know. But he wasn’t very good. And we were the best.”
“That’s cause we are the best, buddy,” I said, moving his pillow to help get him more comfortable. “We’re a great team.”
“Jason?” he asked.
“What do you need?” I picked up his tiny, fragile hand.
“I don’t wanna call you Jason anymore,” he said. “You’re my dad. Can I call you that, now?”
I wasn’t expecting my heart to swell with emotion like it did. But sure enough, after trying to hold it together for my family for so long, tears started sliding down my cheeks. “I would be so honored if you called me that, Jax,” I whispered, trying not to lose control of my emotions, and making him smile as he settled into his bed again. “Nothing would make me happier.” I kissed him on the head as he started to fall asleep.
