Look After You by Elena Matthews Read Free Book Online

Caleb-”
    “Ava, I’ll be home, whether it’s in two days, or in two weeks, I’ll be coming home to you and my daughter.”

Chapter 4
     
    It’s been a week since my little angel was born and every single day she gets stronger. Every day that she gets stronger it gives me an extra day of hope, hope that she can survive this. Her strength is giving me the power to carry on, to be there for her, to be there for me. Every day from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep, I have spent every single minute with her. There isn’t a place on this earth I’d rather be, than here with my daughter. Every time I look at her, she takes another tiny piece of my heart away, expanding it to a size that I never knew could be possible. It really takes my breath away.
    It ’s true when they say a child’s love is like no other because this love is definitely one of a kind. Unconditional. I would give my life for her, and if it were possible I would trade places with her in a heartbeat. It breaks my heart to sit here and watch, knowing there is absolutely nothing I can do. Everything is completely out of my control. There are no guarantees. I have to put my trust in a bunch of medically trained strangers and hope that she will pull through. At the moment though, everything seems to be heading in the right direction and for that I am truly grateful.
    That’s not to say the past week has been easy, it hasn’t, far from it, in fact.
    On Monday, I was told her IRDS had resolved itself, and her lung capacity was strong enough for her to be taken off the ventilator and put onto the Continuous Positive Airway Pressure, a machine where a tubing nasal mask is strapped directly over her nose and securely around her head with a special white hat that covers the majority of her face and blows mild air pressure through a tube to keep her airways open. Now, she is given intravenous caffeine, which stimulates her breathing regularly. And when I thought I’d finally be able to breathe again, it seemed that a new set of problems had occurred. Apnea. I was told it was normal for preterm babies to have a pause in their breathing because of how immature and undeveloped they are, but what I wasn’t told was how often they occur. Every couple of hours the monitor will trigger off an alarm and more often than not, a nurse will have to remind my baby how to breathe with a little nudge or stimulation. It scares the shit out of me every time.
    During the week I have been learning new things every day, simple ways to interact and mother my baby, instead of just watching her in a plastic box, feeling hopeless. None of which are of conventional methods but I’m learning how to adapt and I understand conventional isn’t a viable option at the moment.
    On Wednesday, the nurse allowed me to assist with her feeding. It wasn’t anything to write home about. I literally just pressed down on a syringe that was attached to her feeding tube, but knowing I was the one feeding her made me feel ecstatic. It was the first time that I finally felt like a mother, instead of a passerby watching my daughter from afar. The nurse also showed me how to change her diaper, with tiny cotton balls and warm water. I actually changed her diaper myself. I was absolutely terrified that I was going to break her somehow, because of how tiny and fragile she looked. It was hard work, especially when I couldn’t raise her legs like you can with a normal baby, and having to maneuver what felt like gigantic hands against her miniature bottom without causing her distress was harder than it looked. It took me a while but eventually I managed it.
    On Thursday, I was discharged from the hospital. My first night away from her was impossibly difficult. I don’t think I got a wink of sleep. I just tossed and turned all night, panicking, thinking something bad was going to happen. As the hours went by, I literally watched my cell phone like a hawk, waiting for the heartbreaking call to