His Wet Nurse

Meeting the lil master (2)

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Jema skimmed through the pages of the book on her lap while patiently waiting at the reception.

The folder contained detailed information about baby Sam. Madame Evana had painstakingly explained every necessary thing about the baby's routine. His meal time, preparations, and medications. 'Guidelines on how to care for preterms' was the title of the book she held.

Despite having undergone extensive training for the past one week, the Madame wasn't satisfied with the lessons, rather she'd handed Jema a fifty-five-paged book to read up.

She sighed at the repeated instructions she'd had to go through over and over again. She wasn't daft for crying out loud and for one, she knew lots about caring for children. She almost had one too.

Madame Evana was stock-still beside Jema, the woman didn't blink an eye nor deter from the conspicuous judgy stares she gave the nurse at the reception—who by the way seemed to be so engrossed in a call. Her finger played with the cords, her cheeks flushed red from the cheesy lines someone told her over the phone. Madame Evana forced a gust of air, embarrassed for the younger generation.

It's been nearly an hour since their arrival, and access to baby Sam was still pending. A preterm with complications the previous night had kept the medical staff busy, and the exclusive nature of the private clinic emphasized their cautious approach to patients and relative interactions.

"Madame, ma'am," a nurse stood before them with a bright smile on her tired face. She gestured for Jema and the Madame to follow her. "Please follow me." she led them through a maze of passages, then showed them to a washroom where they could sanitize before entering the baby's room.

He was a sight to behold. Jema saw the flicker of emotion appear in Madame Evana's eyes. It was the first time she had seen the woman like that. Usually, Madame Evana was cold, distant, and uptight about everything but today, it was clear to Jema that baby Sam meant the world to her.

His tiny hands jiggled up in his crib. His eyes were wide and compelling like they could make your pain disappear. Jema felt drawn to his innocence and wondered why such a poor baby had to endure such harsh realities.

"Why isn't he inside an incubator?" Jema asked the nurse by the side whilst staring delightfully at the little champ. "Is he okay like this?"

"He's totally okay on his own. He's a strong one," she added with a warm smile.

Jema envied even the nurses who got to see these beautiful creatures and held them tight. She yearned to hold him, to let his tiny hands wrap around her pinky.

"She's the one," Madame Evana turned to the nurse and said. The woman stared at Jema with newfound admiration.

"I'm glad you agreed to do this," she said, taking one of Jema's hands in hers. "I know it's a tough one but thank you for caring for kids like him. He's lucky to have you." she gushed.

Jema felt awkward, she didn't know what to make of the gush of emotions from the nurse but she nodded in silence.

Later Madame Evana stepped out with the nurse to have a word, Jema had insisted on a little more time with the baby. She watched him in silence, noting every detail there was. He sure was a bubbly little man, probably took enough strength from his father who used to be a military officer.

Jema smiled at his curious eyes, they were searching hers. Needing to know if she was familiar enough, she made a face and waved earnestly at him. She knew this was the best decision she's ever made, there was no other way to feel alive than getting back what was taken from her.