Sincerely Adeline

Journal Entry #4: Hospitals

Dear Journal,

In some ways, this trip to the hospital was worse than the last one. But at least we're home and Slade's finally home with us. The last trip was when Grant was born. I by no means am saying that Grant was a misfortune. It was just hard for me, and no, it wasn't because it was child birth (although that pain didn't make the trip any better). The month before Grant was born was when they finally called Slade to go overseas. I was lucky in that regard.

The night that Grant was born, I had been in the hospital for the two days. I never have appreciated my mother more. Give me the cramps any day! The pain of child birth is way worse. Lots of blood and sweating and screaming and gasping in pain. I honestly kept wishing it would just be over and that it was all a bad dream.

I remember holding onto one of the wrists of the nurse's. She said that I had been cutting off her blood circulation and my nails were clawing into her skin. I had let go and had grabbed the pillow pressing my face against it. I remember constantly dreaming back and forth about where Slade was. I didn't know where he was and I kept wishing that somehow, he'd come running into the room and let me hold his hand even if he knew I'd break his fingers. But no such thing happened.

I didn't know it at the time, but while I was giving birth, Slade had landed and was out on the war front, dealing with bullets and gunfire and shells. I just had to put up with it. Until finally, something happened and I knew that I didn't have to push any more. Then, there was crying. I finally lifted my head and saw a crying little red face. I lost my strength. I'd never had to deal with anything so painful.

Later when I could actually lift my arms, I finally saw the little bundle that was what I had gone through all that pain for. It was a healthy baby boy, with very little hair. When he woke up, he looked up at me and smiled softly. The first thing I thought was that he took after his father like that. The soft smiles. Once I had recovered (two days later), the nurses let me take Grant home. There was never someone who could have measured up to Slade when it came to comparing my love until Grant. He was fussy and he cried and I barely got any sleep, but he was such a wonderful new bundle of joy in my life.

I wrote Slade the week after. I hadn't had the chance before. The first thing that I said was that he had competition now and to look at the picture that I sent with it. It was a picture of Grant and me while I held a camera above our faces. I told him that Grant was a healthy baby boy and the nurses said that he was strong little guy, too. I think my letter was one of the few things that probably made him smile while he was gone.

I got letters. He said that war was horrible. He said that he'd walk around the camps and see things. He said that he'd have nightmares of being out and finding someone he knew and considered a friend to be dead only to wake up to another nightmare. On some letters, I saw dried tears at the bottom. He reserved the bottom for words of comfort and telling me that he'd be home soon. The letters got worse. Slade sounded stressed, something very unlike him. It broke my heart when I'd read small requests such as a picture of Grant learning to walk or for me to spray my perfume on the next letter.

They say that war changes men. As Grant got older, I got more sleep. I was able to find time for myself while he slept. I tried to read, I tried to keep my mind off the war. I canceled the newspapers and quit watching the news, for fear that I'd see something about the war and start crying. Grant's first word was 'mom'. He said it when he saw me crying over a letter of Slade's. In the letter, he had told me that he had gotten grazed by a bullet on the arm. He said that he was okay, that it just brushed him, but I cried. Only a foot over and it could have killed him. I'd have never seen him for the rest of my life and Grant would have never met his father.