Due to certain medical issues back home, my unit expedited my departure, even though I wasn’t due to be home for another three weeks.
It was my wife, Amara, who was the “medical stuff.” She was taken to the hospital immediately after collapsing at work. Over the phone, her mother was evasive and repeatedly said, “She’s okay, but… you should come.”
With my heart racing the entire way, I flew home in my dirty suit, still smelling like sand and engine grease. I went straight to the hospital with my suitcase still hanging over my shoulder, without even going home first.
She was propped up in bed with a blanket over her lap and that recognizable twist in her brows when she’s trying not to cry when I stepped into her third-floor room.
She blinked. then let out a gasp. Then she began to laugh, really laugh, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
She reached for something on the tray table and remarked, “I was going to surprise you.”
It was a small, white, ribbon-adorned package that sat there as if it weren’t going to completely alter my life.
“You mean to wish me a happy early birthday?” She bit her lip as she added.
I took the box open.
It contained a small pair of pastel blue socks and one ultrasound picture.
I was completely frozen as I gazed at them. She found out, but I missed it. I had overlooked everything.
She then flinched. I winced, like, really.
“Amara, are you alright?” I let the box fall.
Grabbing the bedrail, she inhaled sharply.
She muttered, “They said it wouldn’t be for a few more hours.” However, I believe I believe he is on his way now.
There was mayhem for the following few minutes. Monitors beeping louder than my pounding heart, nurses hurrying in. I asked them to let me stay even though I wasn’t properly checked in as a tourist. I was never going to abandon her again.
As if it were the only thing keeping her grounded, she squeezed my hand. Despite my lack of experience, I gave her a forehead kiss and muttered, “You’re doing amazing.” I had received training on how to deal with pressure, but this? The battlefield here was different.
Work proceeded quickly. quicker than anyone anticipated. According to one of the nurses, stress may have been the initial cause. Amara was just thirty-six weeks. It would be another month before our son was due.
And then he was there, suddenly, in what seemed like hours and seconds at once.
I was allowed to cut the cord. I nearly missed because I was trembling so much.
At first, he didn’t cry. I almost cracked in that quiet. But like a small fighter who had already witnessed certain things, he let out this tiny, scratchy howl after what seemed like a year.
We merely gazed as they laid him on Amara’s chest.
“He resembles you,” she muttered.
It wasn’t until her thumb removed a tear from my cheek that I realized I was weeping.
Kairo was meant to be his name, but as I saw Amara take shaky, tired breaths and our child curl up like he had been waiting for this moment all his life, I thought, “Let’s name him Micah.” after your father.
She gave me a startled blink. Her father had died two years prior. I hadn’t talked about it much because she was still grieving deeply.
“Are you sure?” she inquired.
I gave a nod. “It feels correct.”
Grinning, the nurse wrote it down. Garcia, Micah Owen.
However, the doctor scowled just when we believed we were safe. Amara’s blood wasn’t stopping as it ought to have. She needed to be brought back for a treatment.
As they rolled her out, she protested, “I’ll be fine.” Simply remain with him. Please.
So I lingered in the nursery and watched Micah sleep under those warm lights in his little incubator.
Hours went by. Too many.
They finally informed me that she was stable at around two in the morning. drowsy and weak, but steady.
When I brought Micah in the following morning to officially meet her, she looked like she had been through a lot, but she still managed to grin as if the sun had just risen for us.
She muttered, “Best birthday ever,” and despite my constricted throat, I laughed.
Finally, two weeks later, we were at home. All three of us.
The unexpected surprise is that those two weeks altered me more than the previous eight months spent abroad could have.
I assumed I would be the one returning to look after Amara. to take over and bear the burden. However, it came out that she had been carrying everything the entire time, quietly, unaffected, even as a life developed inside of her.
Despite being early, Micah was powerful. similar to his mother.
And while she slept next to us, I rocked him in the middle of the night and noticed something that I believe many of us overlook:
It’s not usually the loud battles that are the actual ones. Occasionally, they are silent. They take place in medical facilities. In hushed vows. in weary hands persevering despite the agony.
A chapter was meant to finish when they returned home. However, it was only the start.
Don’t spend time if you have someone waiting for you and you’re reading this. Say the words. Arrive. Be there. You can never predict when life will give you the surprise of your life.
I appreciate you reading.
Please hit the “like” button and forward this to someone who needs a reminder of what’s important.