Kid Visit
We gather in a small family conference room.
I asked Gable to bring the kids in their uniforms so no time would be wasted. I want as much time as I can get with them to squeeze every second from this thinning hour to hold onto for this oncoming week.
Jet is in his soccer jersey, and Lennox is in her leotard and tights. They buzz around the room and look out the window.
“Mom, can I stay here with you tonight?” Jet asks.
Before I allow that dream to unfold in my mind, I imagine him tangled in my IVs.
I sigh, and I choke the sob in my throat.
“Nah, bud, you’re gonna sleep at home tonight.” I ruffle his hair and feel my stomach bottom out.
Lennox is twirling and hopping along the chairs. She’s peed three times in the last twenty minutes and continues to look for excuses to leave the room.
I can feel the time running thin.
Gable turns on the TV to a Cartoon Network show, and Jet laments that he doesn’t know this one.
“Why are we here?” He asks.
“I’m hungry. Can we go get some food?”
I nod to Gable.
Pull the curtain smile WAY up. He can see what I’m doing.
HAPPY MOM.
“It’s fine! It’s fine! Babe, they’re kids, and this is boring. I’ll be fine!”
I grab Jet and hold him tighter than I ever have. I hover my nose over his hair and breathe as much of him as possible. I grab Lennox’s hand and do the same for her.
Tears ripple down my face.
“God, I love you guys so so so stinking much. Do you know that?”
I breathe it down.
I am composing myself in an earthquake. My thighs tremble, but I need to look casual. Mommy is not bothered. This is totally normal.
Lennox grins widely
“OF COURSE I LOVE YOU MAMMA DUH”
She sticks her tongue out at my nose.
She whips into a dance move, and I steady myself for these brisk goodbyes. I kiss them both, then Gable, and they are in another world away in an elevator within 10 minutes.
I leave the conference room and return to my room. I close the door and latch the shades.
And completely combust.
I wail and wail and shriek into the pillow.
This is the first time I have been entirely alone since Thursday.
This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to consider that I have no idea what to expect after surgery.
To consider all avenues, good and bad.
An easy surgery and a hard recovery changed children who might always feel a little more comfortable with Dad.
The three of them are in their shared normal bubble, which I can’t bring myself to burst but stare at in awe and wonder.
Will I be staring through that screen with drool lapping down my chin and locked behind a broken brain after tomorrow?
What god keeps me in this fucking hospital bed while I know their Dad is holding their little hands and putting them in their car seats?
I have never wanted to leave anything as much as I do this room.
Kathlyn Ramsey Moore 