The Time Alex Saved Skye's Life

Little Skye has a serious expression. He'd been through some serious stuff. When he was two weeks old he was admitted to the hospital for RSV. His lungs had filled up with fluid. He had a fever. He was limp. His oxygen saturation kept dropping even while he was on oxygen. After four or five days in the hospital he continued to go downhill. He stopped breastfeeding. He gave up.

On the fifth or sixth night at 8pm, Alex called the hospital to say goodnight. Big Skye took time off of work and stayed home with Alex so that I could stay at the hospital with the newborn. I slept in his metal crib up against an ice covered window until they finally gave us a bed. I got sick with him, and held him. I ignored the nurses' insistence that I couldn't sleep with him. When they came in to wake me up and force me to put him in his basinette I'd pretend I was awake. I learned the best defense is an offense and when they came in to make sure I wasn't holding him while I slept I'd ask the to change his diaper. When I started giving them work to do they stopped coming in to hassle me with their ridiculous hospital policy that was designed to protect them not my child.

I refused to leave Little Skye's side except to run down to the cafeteria to get food, and only if my favorite nurse was on duty. I'd ask her to hold him while I gathered up some food to hold me over until the next time she was on duty. There was no way I would leave Skye alone. I was afraid no one would hear him crying or hear his monitors go off. Moreover I was afraid he'd let go completely.

When I didn't recognize the cave woman in the mirror I asked my favorite nurse if she could hold him while I showered. It was a harrowing time. No way to spend your postpartum days -- in a hospital holding an infant who looks like he won't make it. But when Alex called to say goodnight, everything changed. I asked him if he would sing the ABC song to Little Skye while I held the phone to his little ear. His angelic voice traveled through the line on that cold, dark, winter's night. Skye listened. He opened his eyes, he rooted around for my breast and made a comeback. We retell the story as "The Time Alex Saved Skye's Life." They've been very close as brothers and it always seems to come back to this story when they talk about how close they are.

The ABC song reminded Skye of better days. Days when he was in the womb. Each night I would hold Alex by the ankles and do "the lymph flush" to two rounds of the ABC song and the count of 100. The familiar tune gave Skye the will to live and he pulled through the night. However the worst was not over. Skye was fine. It was the medical staff we had to worry about.

They wanted to do a spinal, insert a catheter in his little dippy, and put in an IV just to check his fluids and make sure he didn't have meningitis. I declined the spinal. I suggested a plastic bag instead of a catheter. And Big Skye argued down the IV, fearing that our son would get an infection at the hospital if he'd had one. There was a lot of pressure from the medical staff but we held strong and Little Skye seemed to know it. He held strong too for a little guy. It was great to have him home again.