N is for Neo-natal ICU
The scream of rubber on asphalt…
Shattering glass…
The crunch of metal.
Sirens
The smell of gasoline and alcohol and blood…
Sounds that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.
When he woke up, his first thoughts were of his wife and unborn child. Please no, they can't be gone.
When he was finally able to speak to his attending physician, he got grim news.
They were both still alive, but the placental abruption caused by the accident seemed likely to bring about premature birth. His wife was getting the best of care in the ICU, but it was going to be touch and go.
He vaguely heard his brother tell him that the drunk driver who had hit them had survived surgery and would be transferred to jail as soon as he was fit.
He didn't care about the drunk. He didn't care about work. He didn't care about himself. All he cared about was his wife and daughter.
Hours blurred into days, which blended into weeks.
In spite of the hospital staffs best efforts, his daughter came early. He sat by his wife's beside, holding his hand and murmuring words of encouragement as she gave birth.
He was forced to let go to allow the surgeons staunch the hemorrhaging.
He wandered to the neo-natal ICU where his daughter battled for life and leaned against the window. He stared at her through his own reflection, feeling as if he were Marley's ghost, able to observe the suffering of the living without being able to alleviate any of it.
Unable to rest, he paced, from mother to daughter and back. Speaking to them, bringing news of Malati's progress to Amita and news of Amita's progress to Malati.
In between the his wife's room and the neo-natal ICU he prayed.
Please, I know I have spent too much of my time and energy on thoughts of this world, of the science that I have always believed in. But please, do not punish them for my shortcomings. I promise I will never take one moment of one day with them for granted if you spare them.
It's been said that sometimes the answer to a prayer must be "No."
This time, however, the answer was more uplifting.
After another week passed, his daughter learned to breathe on her own. She began to gain weight as well.
His wife began to stir. When she opened her eyes she looked around for him. "Chandra?" she whispered. "My baby?"
"Shhh, beloved," Chandra told Malati. He touched her lips with his forefinger. "Our daughter was born early, but we have not been entirely forsaken. The doctors tell me that she is whole and getting stronger by the day."
"This is true?" Malati begged. "Can I see her?"
"Soon," Chandra said. "You will be well enough to see her soon. For now, just rest."
"Chandra?" Malati asked anxiously. "You're not disappointed to not have a son?"
Chandra laughed lightly. "I said often I would not care what gender the baby was, as long as he or she was healthy. Now, more than ever, I feel gratitude to the gods for giving us Amita."
"Amita," sighed Chandra. "How beautiful."
"She is almost as beautiful as her mother."
Chandra Ramanujan watched his wife slide back into sleep, and then went back to the neo-natal ICU. He placed his hands against the glass that separated him from his sleeping daughter.
"Amita, my beautiful daughter. Your name means without limits. I named you that because my love for you knows no bounds. I have loved you since before the Earth began and will continue to love you long after the stars are dust."