Here at the Methodist Home they have a day care called Eagle's Nest. When I look out my window I can see the little kids playing on the playground. Im not sure if some of the staff think it's weird but every time I walk by the day care, and the little kids are outside playing, I always try to play with them. They remind me so much of my son. I just want to kiss all the kids, and let them know everything is going to be okay.
Today I walked by the fence and two babies were crying. A little girl, that looked about a year and a half was screaming. The woman holding her was trying to console her. I walked up and said,
"Hey!"
I smiled as the baby stopped crying and just looked at me.
"Come on Jaclyn," staff yelled.
"You're scaring her!"
Suddenly the baby started crying again. I knew it wasn't me who scared her. It was the loud mouth staff.
"Hey baby, it's okay." I said soothingly.
"Jaclyn!"
I tried to touch the little girl and I couldn't because the fence was too high and the little girl was too small. They remind me so much of my son, and my miscarriage. Imagine what the baby would've been like. I dream about it all the time. I dreamed it would've been a girl. A little girl with brown, curly hair and hazel eyes.
But after I had my son, I realized dreaming wasn't going to bring that baby back. Something I also realized is I was never going to forgive myself. It was my fault I lost the baby. I was so far gone. I was on drugs and I wasn't aware that I was pregnant. The baby died because of my extreme drug abuse. If it wasn't for the state of Georgia. I'm sure I would have killed my son too. When I figured out I was pregnant the second time I didn't stop doing drugs. When I was put into foster care my drug supply was cut off, and I got clean. About four months into my pregnancy I was sent to a specialist because my son's legs were not growing properly. His head, and his upper body was growing but his legs were not. I cried when the doctor told me that. My biggest fear was something being wrong with my child. I was still going to love him regardless, but I still didn't want anything to be wrong with him. If something was wrong with him I would've continued to blame myself.
That night I was crying. My foster mother was soothing me.
"Baby, it's not your fault. Maybe your uterus is too small. The doctor did say it happens a lot in teenage pregnancies."
I broke through my sobs,
"I did drugs the first two months of my pregnancy."
After that she just held me. I don't think she had anything to say.
Six months later when I went into labor. The first thing I asked when he emerged from me was,
"Is he okay?"
Because my whole pregnancy I had nightmares about still births, and miscarriages. When he first came out I didn't hear anything. Little did I know that they had to clean his breathing pathway before he could cry.
"Why isn't he crying?!" I said frantically.
Then I heard it. The beautiful sound of a child's cry.
"Congratulations! It's a healthy baby boy."
Then everything went black. I don't remember anything after that because my blood pressure shot up to the sky.
I woke up a few hours later. The room was dark and their was no one with me. I pushed the red nurse button on my remote.
"Yes. May I help you?"
I suddenly started crying.
"I want my son."
A nurse came down to my room and explained to me that they were about to move me to the Maternity Unit. So they could help my with his birth certificate and I'll be closer to my son. As I was pushed out of the Birth Unit, the nurse told me to press the button on the wall.
"Everytime someone has a baby we let them push that button."
I pressed the button and the whole hospital had a lullaby playing through it.
