A Winter Morning

It's completely quiet now. She has turned off the sound machine and the ceiling fan. The room is gray with the morning winter light. She stands over his crib watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake. 

His breathing sounds fairly clear, just hints of something that might need to be suctioned. Every now and then his arm jerks up to his face and hits his mouth or nose. She wonders if he is intentionally trying to touch his face and yet failing because of his lack of muscle control.

It's been two years now. Two years since her life and the life of her family changed forever. This baby, yes, they still call him "the baby", born with a Dandy Walker Malformation, undiagnosed as to the reason why, is still alive. His mother tries not to think back to the past, a time before g-tubes and shunts, doctor visits and therapies, risk of aspiration and pneumonia. A time before the baby. But unfortunately her mind often goes there anyway. She is getting better at not doing that, working towards living in the present, but finds it challenging.

He stirs in his crib, little moans and stretches, sounds of waking. The arm spastically hits his face repeatedly now as he tries to move around. She goes to his side and gently lifts off each blanket one by one. He looks at her and tries to focus his grey-blue eyes.

"Good morning, good morning, doot doot doot doot doot...", she sings. Their morning ritual begins.