Screams wailed from his tiny fragile frame as if the seed of Soul Music had harvested in me for nine months and James Brown’s larynx had suddenly emerged from my womb. Butt naked and draped with the crumpled skin of a Chinese Pug, Dr. Russell placed this delicate, khaki colored creature squarely on my partially exposed breast, compliments of the loose fitting hospital gown that had slid down my left shoulder during labor. His flesh squirming against my bare skin reminded me of the squishy, hand-held balls I’d squeeze to relieve stress whenever my husband pissed me off. With one hand securely against his back and the other cupping the deep blue strawberry patch halfway covering his supple little bottom, I scooted him towards the upper part of my chest so the side of my chin would nuzzle his crown.
I garnered every facet of him, closing my eyes; inhaling the scent of Heaven and light as if his being became my lifeline. I airily grazed the silky strands of russet brown hair draping over the tip of his rounded ear, each stroke gently kissing his chubby cherub cheek. By the strumming of my fingertips and the cradling of his lobe by my heartbeat, his cries were quickly quieted. For the next few moments I listened to his faint breaths whisper “I love you mommy” and the tears that hid behind closed lids finally made themselves seen.
“You’re just too good to be true…can’t take my eyes off of you” were the first words I sang to my angel. I was a mother. I was his mother, and he was my blessing…my truest love.
I’ve been holding his listless little hand between my palms for so long now I can’t tell whether the moisture settling in my hands is sweat or the scalding tears seeping between the cracks of my fingers. Slumped over the rail of his hospital bed, I pry open my swollen eyes just enough to watch him breathe, glancing over at the heart monitor and breathing apparatus for reassurance. I imagine those first faint breaths of his life whispering to me “I love you mommy” and for a moment I find comfort in my thoughts. But I’d surrender the memories of every song I’d ever heard…every sound ever ingrained into my consciousness to hear my baby breathe. Never have I questioned my faith; never gave a second thought to who God is and what He has meant to my life, until now. It’s because of Him I’m sitting next to my son in this hospital bed. It’s because of Him my angel is in ICU fighting for his life. God is the reason I didn’t hear the alarm go off when he opened the backdoor…the reason I couldn’t hear Kael scream for me. My four year old son nearly drowned all because two months ago God decided hearing was a gift I was no longer worthy of. I curse God for teasing me with 28 years of meaningless noise and empty conversations only to take away the voice of my baby’s cries when he needed me most. How in the hell is that a merciful God? I want to release the hurt dwelling in the pit of my throat; cast out the anxiety clinching my windpipe constricting my chest with two tons of bitterness. I want to cry out until fire singes my vocal cords, but I’m afraid I’d frighten Kael. I open my hands just enough to kiss his. I lean over and lie down on his chest, obliging the steady taps of his heart to calm me, pretending to hear them.
I know my voice is raspy. I can feel whet knives scraping the meat of my throat each time I swallow. But I need him to wake up. I need Kael to know mommy’s here and I’m not going anywhere. I close my eyes and muster enough strength to sing for my baby.
“You’re just too good to be true…can’t take my eyes off of you”.
No sooner than the last word “you” leaves my lips, I begin balling uncontrollably. Seconds later, I feel a gentle pull from behind. The nurse grabs my shoulders and aggressively nudges me from Kael’s bedside. She’s speaking to me. I can’t understand her. I haven’t learned to read lips very well and I can’t make out what she’s saying.
“You have to leave Mrs. Jasper.”
“What’s going on…is something wrong with Kael?”
My questions are interrupted when more nurses and doctors flood his room. I look up at the monitor. I can’t breathe…I can’t breathe! I clinch the part of my chest Kael first rested his angelic, cherub cheek on four years ago. I gasp for air but God seems to have taken that away from me too. Kael’s heart monitor has a single, flat green line in the center of a black screen. I never heard it beep.
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