Day 2

I am 2 days old

I sleep. But it is not a good sleep. It is the sleep of the drugged.

I cannot move. I am drugged.

The tube is still in me. I hate the tube. But it keeps me alive. It is good.

I sense many people around me. Serious people. Medical people. I cannot see them. I cannot open my eyes. I am drugged.

They stand around me discussing me quietly. They are worried. They have their arms crossed. My daddy is there. He is worried. His eyes are full of water. But he is not crying.

I am alive. I am two days old.

The serious medical people talk a strange language. Salts and acids and oxygen and pH and hypoglycemic and vent and carbon dioxide. I'm like a chemistry experiment. They must balance it all to prevent an explosion

My daddy tries to understand. They look worried. But not too worried. They look serious but not too serious.

I am alive but I cannot breathe. I am drugged. Too tired. My chest rises. My chest falls. pumped by a machine.