Page 78 of Sin Wagon
He gently places a hand on my shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
I manage a weak smile. “I’m hanging in there. It’s been tough, but so far we’re okay. She’s stubborn and not wanting to eat from the tap, so we started mixing formula with my milk.”
“Hey. We read that fed is best. Don’t beat yourself up. She’s eating, that's all that matters.”
Jonas steps forward, his face cracking as he looks at Posey. “She’s amazing.”
He reaches out to gently stroke Posey’s cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, little one.”
As I watch them interact with Posey, my heart swells with gratitude. These men, my family, are here for us. They’re here for Posey. The fear and uncertainty that has been gnawing at me doesn’t disappear, but it fades into the background.
We’re not alone in this.
Later in the day, Roy and Rhonda arrive. The moment they walk in, Rhonda rushes to my side, her eyes brimming with tears. She envelops me in a hug, her arms warm and comforting.
“Oh, Delilah, she’s perfect,” she says, her voice choked with emotion.
Roy, standing beside her, nods in agreement. His usually stern face softens as he looks at Posey.
“You did good, kid,” he says, his voice gruff but full of pride.
I can see the love and concern in their eyes as they take turns holding Posey.
Rhonda gently cradles her, whispering soothing words, while Roy stands protectively nearby, his eyes never leaving his granddaughter. The sight of them with Posey brings tears to my eyes. This is the family I’ve longed for, the support I’ve needed.
“Thank you for being here,” I say, my voice trembling with gratitude. “It means the world to us.”
Roy smiles, a rare and genuine smile. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Rhonda hums softly to Posey, her eyes filled with love and adoration. She tells me stories of when Wells was a baby, her voice a soothing lullaby.
I find myself not wanting visiting hours to end because I’m enjoying them being here with us. It makes it seemnormaland not like we’re trapped here because our baby isn’tperfect.
They hug us goodbye, promising to visit as soon as we’re home, and I hope with everything in me that’s soon.
With each passing day, the NICU becomes more and more like our temporary home. I spend every moment I can with Posey, holding her, talking to her, trying to comfort her. The nurses are kind and supportive, but the fear never fully fades. Every beep of the monitors, every shift in her condition, makes my heart race. What if something goes wrong? What if we can’t take her home?
After what feels like an eternity, the day we’ve been waiting for finally comes—the day we’re told we can be discharged. The thought of bringing Posey home fills me with happiness but fear.
Can I really do this? Am I ready for the responsibility?
As we pack up her things, the monitors suddenly start beeping frantically. Panic surges through me as doctors and nurses rush into the room.
“Step back!” one of them commands, and we’re pushed out of the way.
My world spins, a wave of terror coursing through me.Not again. Please, not again.My legs feel weak, and I grip Wells’ arm tightly, trying to steady myself.
Wells’ face is pale, his hand gripping mine. “She’s strong, Delilah,” he says. “She’ll be okay.”
I want to believe him, but the fear is suffocating. My stomach is heavy and my ribs tighten, I’m utterly helpless.
What kind of mother am I if I can’t protect my own child?
Minutes feel like hours as the medical team works frantically. My heart aches with every moment that passes, every beep that pierces the silence.
Please, let her be okay.
Finally, the doctor turns to us, his expression serious but reassuring. “We’ve stabilized her. She had another episode of SVT, but with the IV back in place and a dose of Adenosine, we’ve managed to get her heart rate back to normal. We’ll keep her for a few more days to monitor her.”
