Baby Steps [ManxMan]

Chapter 1

BLAKE

The tiny baby boy squirmed in my arms, his impossibly small nose crinkling. A bellow flew from that small mouth and I wondered how such a little person could get so much wind to make that much noise. Short arms flailed out as the crying became louder, tears rolling down the baby's pink little cheeks.

A door opened with a squeak behind me and I turned to the smiling nurse, "I can't get him to stop."

Smile in place, the nurse took the newborn from me and, rocking the baby gently, made a shushing noise. Once the baby was quiet she looked up at me, "He's hungry, its time for dinner."

I nodded, "When can I take him home?"

"He's doing much better than we expected," she replied, still rocking the fussy baby, "but Dr. Mead would like to keep him another day just to make sure he continues to make good progress."

She handed the dozing bundle back to me and went over to a table set up with pre-made bottles, "And his arm is fine?"

Bottle in hand, the nurse turned back to us, "Baby's bones are quicker to heal than adults because they're still the in the process of developing fully and babies are more resilient. His arm will be fine but we'll leave the cast on for four weeks. You've been trained in how to hold him and bathe him with the cast, right? How to keep his arm elevated?" I nodded, "Good. Would you like me to feed him or would you like the honor?"

"I'll feed him." I took the bottle from her and moved to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

The nurse moved to the door but turned to look at me and smiled, "You know, considering the extent of the accident, the fact that he only came out with a broken arm and some scratches and bruises is a miracle."

I sat on the rocking chair and placed the nipple of the bottle in the slightly open mouth, which grabbed hold like a lifeline and began chugging, "I know."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, by the way." The nurse's voice held sympathy.

Looking up at her I forced a smile, "Thank you."

She smiled and nodded, "For what it's worth, you're doing a great job."

My gaze dropped to the baby nestled in my arms. Those plump, pink lips sucking the liquid from the bottle, long dark brown eyelashes casting shadows on the crest of pink cheeks. Light brown hair brushed my arm where the tiny head rested. Without raising my eyes I repeated, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The soft click of the door closing followed the quiet words.

I stared down at the small treasure in my arms and whispered, "You look just like your mommy, Nico. I wish she were here."

The baby shifted in his sleep but continued to suck on his bottle. I ran a finger over his small brow, soothingly. Staring down at my nephew I wondered what I would do with my life now. How I would be able to raise a two-month-old. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. A man wasn't supposed to be woken up on a Saturday to the news that his baby sister had been in an accident and had died at the scene. Or that her husband was barely hanging on and their newborn son was under observation. Nights weren't meant to be spent at hospitals praying to God your brother-in-law made it through the night, much less hearing that unforgiving beep that seemed to mock your pain as it announced the death of your friend.

Wakes and funerals should not be a part of a thirty two-year-old's life. Having to think about your baby nephew in a hospital while they lowered his parent's caskets into the ground wasn't the way life was supposed to go. More times than I could count I wished I would wake up from the horrible nightmare I was living. But every morning I awoke in the hospital was a reminder that what I hoped was only a bad dream, was reality.