Page 63 of Pyscho
It’s been three days since he was discharged, three days since I last saw him, because the thought of leaving the hospital is too hard to comprehend. Every time I think I can do it, I begin to panic.
What if I leave and they decide to take him off oxygen?
What if I lose him and I’m not here?
I run my hand through my hair as I look at Hudson, my feelings consuming me.
Fear is mainly running through me. Fear that Jax will hate me, we never did talk about why he left me in bed that day, only that he needed to clear his head, fear that he won’t get to meet his son, fear that Hudson won’t make it.
My tears fall yet again, and I quickly wipe underneath my eyes.
“Good afternoon, Ivy,” Dr. Asshole, I mean Clark, says, and I give him a nod as he stands on the other side of Hudson and opens the incubator, beginning his checks.
He and I still don’t see eye to eye, we never will.
He wanted me to basically kill my baby, the same baby who is growing every single day, whose stats are increasing every day.
I watch him intentionally, like I always do, and he is the other reason I won’t leave my son.
After a few minutes, he says, “Okay,” as he closes the lid and looks at me. I brace myself for more bullshit to spew out of his mouth, but instead, he gives me a slight smile and states, “His lungs are clearer,” shocking me and my mouth parts.
“I want to order an X-ray this evening to get a better look, but as it stands, if he keeps improving, we’ll be able to take him off oxygen and remove the tube,” he says, and my tears fall, my heart pounding. “This is good news, Ivy. Your son is a very rare case, and I believe his chances have increased tremendously. All of his tests are coming back really good,” he continues, then asks, “How would you feel about holding your son?”
A sob releases, and I quickly cover my mouth and nod my head and he smiles gently, the first real interaction I’ve had with him, and he calls over a nurse as the door to the room opens.
“What’s going on?” I hear Pitbull ask, and the doctor answers, “She’s about to hold Hudson, so you’re right on time. "
I hear a gasp, which I know is Jessica, but I don't take my eyes off my son.
A nurse comes over as the doctor states, “I’ll be back this evening to discuss his results. "
I nod before he leaves, while the nurse moves wires to transfer my son. Without thinking, I quickly remove my jacket and pull on the t-shirt I’m wearing—Jax’s, thankfully.
The nurse carefully lifts Hudson, and I pull on the shirt and she carefully places him under my top, giving us skin on skin for the first time, his skin warming mine as she gently lays his head sideways on my chest to keep the tube in the right position. I sob, looking down at my beautiful baby boy, the feeling of finally being able to hold him after so long in that incubator overwhelming.
He has Jax’s nose and cheekbones, while his hair is getting darker.
He’s perfect, oh so perfect.
My tears fall as I gently rub my hand over his back before I look up and lock eyes with Dr Clark, and he gives me a small smile before leaving the room, while Jessica cries openly while taking pictures as Pitbull takes a seat next to me.
Slowly, he lifts his hand, then gently strokes my son's head, and tears fall down his cheeks, his emotions clear as day.
“He should be here,” I choke out, and he nods.
“I know little doll,” he agrees, “but we can’t overload him,” he looks at me, “I know that is part of the reason why you haven’t been to see him.”
My bottom lip quivers and I admit, “I also don’t know if I can handle seeing the club girls all over him again, not now, not after we–” I shake my head, “It will kill me.”
“He’s not doing that, sweetheart, I promise. He’s barely been at the clubhouse, spending more time at his house while on sick leave,” Jessica promises, gaining my attention, and I snort.
“I bet he loves that,” I murmur as I gently trace my son’s nose.
Tattooing is normally what keeps his anger in check.
“He’d love it even more if he had you by his side, little doll,” Pitbull whispers, and I swallow hard, not taking my eyes off my son.
I look up and admit, “I can’t,” and Jessica looks away as Pitbull looks down at my son. “It isn’t because I don’t love him, because I do, so much, I always have,” I take a deep breath, “I have loved him for as long as I can remember and while yes I have been immature with how I have handled things, I know I can’t see him without exploding,” Jessica looks at me with sadness as I say, “I’ll end up telling him about Hudson, I’ll crack, I know I will. Every night he calls, and I have to ignore them because of the guilt. Right now, holding Hudson, he should be here for it, he should get to hold him as well, but he can’t because we need to go at his pace, so we don’t give him information overload.”
