Page 109 of Who's Your Daddy?

“Catchy, right?” I say, swaying him gently. “And very appropriate.”

I sing along, and I’m not sure if it’s the sound of my voice, the vibration of my chest, or the song itself that soothes him, but he finally stops crying.

“Please don’t say this was all I had to do to get you to calm down. You put me through hell for the last few weeks, lil Bro. Is this really all you wanted?”

I guess it makes sense. Somewhere in his little brain, he remembers these songs, he remembers me, and how I used to sing to him all the time. In a world where he doesn’t recognize anything, the familiarity of this must bring some sense of comfort.

I settle into the rocking chair and the first rays of sunlight are already peeping through the curtains when he finally falls asleep. I don’t put him down, though. I read somewhere that babies sometimes feel separation anxiety. If that’s what he’s going through, I guess it couldn’t hurt to show him that I’m not going to leave him. So, with him nestled on my chest and his tiny face nuzzling the side of my neck, I fall asleep listening to the short puffs of his breath.

And it’s the best sleep I’ve had in weeks.

25. Peter

“So, how bad is it,Doc?” I ask, looking worriedly at Ambrose. “Do you think I need to take him to a chiropractor or another specialist? Is there something wrong with his spine?”

Dr. Mason stares at me for a long time with a befuddled expression on her face. She looks down at Ambrose on the examination bed. Her lips twitch, and for a split second, she seems amused. That’s not very professional, but she looks quite young, so I’m going to blame that on inexperience. I’m also going to forgive that smirk on her face. This is a serious issue, but Ambrose is giving the cutest gummy smile, so I kind of understand. She clears her throat and wipes that grin off her face.

“Excuse me, Mr. Danahay,” she says, walking over to the door. “I think I need a second opinion.” She opens it to call her assistant. “Grace, would you come in here, please?”

Grace looks like she’s in her early sixties, and she moves like it too. She slowly stands up and shuffles into Dr. Mason’s office.

“Grace has six children, fifteen grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren,” Dr. Mason says as she shuts the door. “I trust her opinion on these types of issues. Can you just explain the situation to her the same way you explained it to me?”

I try not to get irritated with having to regurgitate all my concerns for the second time. “So, I think there might be something wrong with Ambrose. I’m not sure what the problem is. If it’s his legs, his hips, his spine.”

She covers her mouth and clears her throat again. “Can you elaborate on why you think there’s a problem?”

“I told you. I’ve read a few websites that said at four months, babies should be rolling over on their own. He’s four and a half months, and he’s still not rolling over.”

Dr. Mason snickers before glancing at Grace. “Uh...Grace, what, um...” She snickers again. “What’s your take on this?”

Grace’s first response is a giggle, which progresses to her doubling over and all out guffawing. That makes Dr. Mason crack up, too.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, confused. “There’s something wrong with him, and you’re taking it like some kind of joke.”

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Dr. Mason assures me between spurts of laughter. “He’s perfectly fine.”

---