karma
I open my eyes and find myself lying in bed with a doctor and the nurse by my side. The only thing on my mind is Juan. I try to sit up, but the nurse prevents me.
"You need to rest," the doctor explains, looking at me. "Even though you're feeling well, your body needs proper rest."
"Where is Juan?" I asked with difficulty.
"He's in the nursery, but he'll be back soon. Just rest," the nurse says.
I lie back in bed and relax, drifting off once again.
****
Midnight.
I woke up to the nurse coming with Juan. I sit up in bed and hold my son in my arms. Juan Carlos didn't cry or feed much during the night. He only nursed a little until the morning and went back to sleep.
***
11:50 a.m.
"Lunchtime," announced the nurse, entering with a tray.
I look at Juan, who is peacefully sleeping beside me, then I pick up the tray and go to my bag to get the utensils. That's when I look at my son and see my world crumble: Juan is turning purple, and his lips are white.
I dropped the tray on the floor and rushed to my son, picking him up and walking through the corridor, barefoot, searching for a doctor... nurse... anyone who can save my child. When I see someone approaching, I hand Juan over.
"He's not breathing," I said, crying. "Please, help me."
She takes him to a room, and I follow her to the door, where other doctors rush to him upon seeing my son. Then the nurse closes the door, not allowing me to see what would happen to Juan.
***
Minutes feel like hours... time doesn't pass... nothing happens... no sign... I watch the door like a guard dog. Then I see an incubator coming out with my son inside, filled with wires... my world ended at that exact moment.
"What's happening to Juan?" I asked the nurse, who ignored me. I hold onto another doctor, but no one tells me anything.
I returned to my room and grabbed my phone; I needed to talk to Carlos. I dialed his number, crying... this can't be happening to my Juan.
"Carlos," I say as soon as my husband answers, desperate. "Please... come quickly... Juan... Juan... my love, come here."
"I'm on my way," Carlos says from the other end of the line.
I hang up my phone, and on the screen appears the image of Lac Rose... then everything comes to my mind... what's happening to my son is Karma for what I did... and now I'm paying with my child's life...
***
Carlos arrived and stayed with me in the room... and the only thing I can think of is that Juan is a baby we desired so much, so loved, that this shouldn't be happening to him... if it's punishment... may God punish me and not my son.
"The doctor is calling you to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit," the nurse informs us at the door.
I quickly get up with Carlos and go to the NICU. There we find the doctor, who looks at us... with pity.
"Nice to meet you, my name is Murilo, and we still don't know what's happening to your son, but we're conducting several tests. By the end of the afternoon, we should have a more definitive answer."
The day dragged on, and I began to despair at the possibilities. If Juan is like this, it's all my fault; I'm the one who caused all this.
"I should have eaten more... forced myself to eat," I said aloud, ignoring Carlos. "I should have eaten properly... exercised..."
"It's not your fault," Carlos says, holding my hand.
"I shouldn't have gone to Africa," I said, looking at my husband.
"What do you mean?" Carlos asks, not understanding.
He deserves to know... I need to tell him... redeem myself... he needs to know the truth...
"Mr. and Mrs. Salazar?" the doctor calls from the door. He enters and stops in front of me. I analyze every aspect of his expression in search of hope, but there is none. Something terrible is happening to my son. "Juan Carlos has a silent infection and three nodules in his head that are causing respiratory arrests."
"Arrests? He had more than one?" I asked, nervous. "Nodules? What does that mean?" I looked at my husband, who was looking at the doctor. "I don't understand what that means."
"We still don't know the origin of the nodules, but we believe it could be genetic. Do you have any family history of this kind?"
"No," Carlos answers, embracing me.
"No," I whispered, shocked.
"Well, considering that, we'll proceed as follows: your child will be intubated and receive antibiotics for 15 days, and we'll conduct further tests to determine the cause of these nodules."
"And when can I be discharged?" I asked, shocking Carlos. "When can I leave?"
"If you want, I can discharge you now," the doctor says. "Although most mothers prefer to stay and be close."
"Give me the discharge, please," I said coldly.
"Alright," the doctor responds. He looks at Carlos and says, "I need you to come with me to fill out the paperwork."
The room becomes empty, just like me. The word genetic invades every part of my body... I know what it means: it's time to confront reality. I pick up my phone, search for a specific international number, and press dial. My heart races; there's a bitter possibility that he won't answer. But after three rings, the call is answered.
"Doce?" X asks from the other end of the line.
***
"Hi, X. We need to talk," I whisper, looking at the door.
"Dalia, I'm so sorry about that night..."
"X, I had a child," I blurt out. Tears start streaming down my face. "He was born yesterday, and he's beautiful... just the way I dreamed..."
"What are you trying to say, Dalia?"
"X..." I say, crying, looking out the window. I need to tell him... he needs to know... "He's sick... he has nodules that might be genetic..."
"I can't believe you did this!"
I quickly hang up my phone, my whole body freezing. That voice... I turn around and find Filomena standing at the door with a bouquet of flowers, shocked at me.
"Is this child X's?" Filomena asks, stunned.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
