Fifteen days
A week later...
The routine was the same: go to the hospital, pump milk, and be with Juan. After a week, something encouraged us: our son no longer had respiratory problems, which indicated progress in his treatment, although nothing was certain, according to the doctors. Perhaps they didn't want to give us false hope, but for me, our son being able to breathe on his own was already something.
"We still have to complete the treatment cycle and see if the improvement was due to the antibiotics. Until then, I ask that you remain calm and not have too much hope. We still have eight days until we know if the treatment is yielding results," the doctor says.
"And if it is, can we take Juan home?" I ask anxiously.
"If, after the treatment, Juan is doing well and stable, yes."
***
Five days later...
The doctor stares at Juan's new test results in astonishment. Miraculously, there was nothing left in our son's head, as if none of this had ever happened. Carlos and I embrace each other as the pediatrician delivers the good news about Juan's condition, and all I can think about is taking my son home.
"When can we take Juan home?" Carlos asks excitedly with the news.
"Well, there are still a few days left to finish the treatment, so you'll have to wait. For now, Juan will remain in the neonatal unit, where we'll monitor his progress and assess if there are any sequelae," the doctor explains.
"Is that possible?" I ask, concerned. "What are the chances?"
"The region affected by the nodules is precisely where speech coordination occurs. There's a high chance that Juan will have a speech delay, but that doesn't matter at the moment. The important thing is that your child is out of danger."
That day, I could finally go home relieved. My son was doing well, and everything was falling into place. Now, the only anticipation I had was to see him out of that place.
"I need to tell you something," Carlos says, interrupting my thoughts. I turn towards him and notice tears streaming down his face. He approaches me, touching my face, and says, "I can only thank you for giving me this child. For being such a wonderful mother... Dalia, I want you to know that I'm eternally grateful for giving me such a beautiful family."
I feel my body sink into the car seat, wanting to disappear. Carlos' words reminded me that soon I would know who the father of my child is. And if it wasn't him? What would become of us? Would he be able to forgive me?
***
Three days later...
I wake up to my phone ringing desperately. At first, I think it's my alarm clock, but then I realize that the song playing is very specific, freezing my heart. I answer with a trembling heart while Carlos wakes up beside me.
"Mrs. Salazar, this is the hospital calling. We're calling because Dr. Murilo requests your presence, along with your husband, in the neonatal unit..."
"We're on our way," I reply, cutting the woman off before she finishes speaking. I look at Carlos, who jumps out of bed, heads to the wardrobe, and grabs his clothes quickly.
I dress as quickly as I can, and we rush to the hospital. We knew it was about Juan, but we didn't know if it was something good or bad.
As soon as we arrive in the neonatal unit, Murilo waits for us with our son's file in hand. I try to decipher his expression, but he remains serious.
"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Salazar. I called you here today because your child's treatment has been completed, and he will be discharged... today."
Those words... I had been waiting for them all those days... all those worst days of my life. The only thing I wanted to hear was that. Brief, simple, and it would make me feel alive again. I embrace the doctor, relieved, thanking him for everything he had done.
"I just need you to sign the release papers, and you can take your child home," the doctor concludes.
"Let me do it," Carlos says, kissing my cheek and going with the doctor.
I walk down the corridor with a smile, knowing it's the last time I'll make that journey to the incubator where my son is. My heart races as I reach the door that leads to the area. Before entering, I take a look through the glass to see my son, but to my surprise, I see the nurse who collected the blood samples holding him in her arms. She turns towards me, smiles, places my son back in the crib, and steps out from inside the incubator, with her hand in her lab coat pocket. She takes out an envelope and hands it to me without saying a word. I know what it is. The test results have finally arrived, and there, in that envelope, is the father of my child. I take a deep breath as I observe the envelope in her hands.
"Deliver it to Filomena. I have to get my son and take him home now," I say, passing by her and entering the incubator.
I walk towards my son, and for the first time in days, I can finally hold him in my arms. Juan looks at me and settles comfortably in my embrace, just as I always wanted. I try to contain my tears of relief as everything starts to fall into place.
Not long after, Carlos appears, and we leave the hospital, ready to live our lives as a family. Without anything or anyone disturbing us.
At least, that's how it should be... right?
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