Everyone
you know is asleep at 2:00 in the morning, but not you. In the stillness of the hospital at this
hour, the noise of the irregular beeps and sporadic hisses and frequent alarms are
jarringly loud, ensuring that sleep is impossible. But because the annoying sounds are coming
from the machines that are keeping your child alive, how can you complain?
As you
reposition yourself on the blue plastic chair beside the bed, attempting every
contortion possible to make yourself comfortable, you think to yourself, What in the world am I doing here? How did I become the one who is responsible
for the child in this room? Is this
really the life I had envisioned I would be living?
