How To Raise Native Children....(On Reserve) #wattys2017

3. Kevin

Kevin was a quiet baby. Even while I was pregnant with him, he was quiet. He rarely moved at all. Made me nervous. My entire pregnancy, I was nervous. I can count, on one hand, the amount of times he's moved during the 35 ½ weeks he was growing in my womb. My doctor was concerned, but with every check up, his heart rate was strong. He was growing. I had a little more appointments than normal, because of his lack of movement, but everything else seemed to be fine.

When he was born, he was born sick. He had an ear infection in both ears, the hospital was only able to test his hearing in one ear. He was, also born with asthma. It was a scary thing, bringing home a baby like that. He was, otherwise, very healthy. He didn't have any breathing issues or asthma attacks right away, but, the thought of it scared me. He, also, had severe separation anxiety. Even as a newborn, he couldn't seem to manage if I wasn't touching him or holding him. I would put him to sleep holding his tiny little hand, once his grip loosened, and I was able to take my finger back, he woke up, screaming.

Haley loved her little brother. She was always around him. He was her own personal, live, doll. She found some her old dresses and dressed him up. While Keven always had a serious look on his face, Haley always had a smile. It was as if Haley was having too much fun with him and he looked at her like she was strange.

I would practise leaving him to help him with his separation anxiety. Wrapping him up as tightly as I could in his receiving blanket and laying him down into his cradle. He would scream and screech until I touched him. And that's what I did. An hour here and an hour there, I would lay him in his cradle. I would start him off at screaming for 30 seconds before I placed my large hand on his tiny chest and belly. He'd stop screaming. After five minutes I would take my hand away, again, and he would scream, again. Then I would place my hand on his chest and belly for five minutes. This wasn't easy, nor was it quick. I had another child to look after, and so, I learned to do things with one hand.

"Sam! Put that baby down! How do you expect to do anything, properly, holding him like that?" Deborah asked. She spoke to me like I was stupid.

"He has separation anxiety. I don't have time to put him down right now. I don't feel like dealing with his screaming, either." I answered. I was attempting to wash the dishes. I had Kevin cradled in my left arm. I reached into the sink and grabbed a plate, gave it to my left hand, fished out the rag and washed the plate. I dropped the rag in the sink, took the plate into my right hand and rinsed it off. All while hugging him close to me. I was leaning over the sink to keep the dishes over the water.

"Bullshit! He's not that bad! Here. Let me take him." Deborah walked over to me with her hands stretched out, ready to take Kevin.

"No, that's okay. I'm managing."

"Bullshit! Let me help you." Deborah demanded.

"He's going to scream. And, I don't feel like dealing with it right now." I tried, hard, not to sound annoyed.

Deborah insisted. She scooted across the kitchen and took him out of my arm. The moment he stopped feeling my arm around him, he screamed. Deborah laughed. "Oh, grandson, you're okay." She tried. He screamed, still.

I continued to wash the dishes, trying to get as much done as possible before she returned him to me.

"Kevin, hush now." Deborah bounced him. He continued to scream. "Baby, it's okay. You're loved." She swayed him. Kevin, still, screamed.

I didn't turn around. I felt that if I did, Deborah would give him back. I, really wanted to try to get one chore done without him in the crook of my arm.

"Kevin." Deborah tried to talk over Kevin's screaming. "Oh my God!" He tone changed.

I quickly wiped the last plate clean and rinsed it off. Time for the pots.