It's almost 2 AM. I should be out on the flight line, working on one of those damn broken planes. But tonight, I'm so distracted. I can't concentrate. I can't think of what I'm doing at work. I can't think of anything. Except my son's face.
When I caught Brake in my hands that night, he was still alive. He was kicking and pushing against the intact bag of amniotic fluids. He was distraught. He was struggling.
I was numb. I had no idea what to do. Do I rip it open? Do I leave it alone? Do I hold him closer? What do I do? Obviously, I can't save him, but that doesn't mean I can't try to do something for him.
When his movement started slowing, he stopped pushing. His face calmed, and he pulled his hands up close to his body, like he was praying. He looked peaceful, smiling actually.
But I still didn't know what to do. How do you watch your baby struggle like that? And not be able to think of something, anything to try to make it better?
My dad said that he felt better about his death knowing that he left this world smiling. He said he was smiling because he knows his mommy was taking care of him.
I still can't help but feel like I could have, should have, done something more. More than just sit there looking at him.