Now (for Ajené) by Roberta

She is fifteen days old today and I think it will be about five more weeks before she's able to come home.

My mind wonders what she'll face when she arrives. The isolation she is in now makes me think that maybe the outside world is too contaminated for her. I often ask myself are we ready?

Her arrival has dominated my thoughts. I wish she were here. I feel the need to rock her. They decreased her food today. This says to me the time will be longer before she can nurse. The milk is drying up now. I feel the need to reach for her. I want to sit by the bedside until I can take her home. It seems she needs at least my touch. I want to walk and walk to try and release my need. The world is moving around me. I am only able to stand still. My body is nailed to the ground now.

Who is here for me? She seems so far away from me. I can't do enough. I am tired of the drive to the hospital and the beeping sounds and the wires and the fluoresc

ent lights. I'm beginning to dread the questions upon my return. I don't want to answer "How's the baby?" She is not generic to me. She carries the name of very significant beings to her existence. But there is nowhere for me to turn now. It's apparent she doesn't need me as much as I need her. Have I done and am I doing all that I can? And if she passes on, will I then refuse to live?

It's beyond the two of us now. The truth is the whole thing hurts. Everything is different now and shall I hide myself by her bedside and take her away in the end? The milk is drying up. The state of things is shifting.

(Sharon LeeAnne Livingston, at 4 lbs 7 ounces, came home from the hospital on January 20th. She is doing well.)