Some Things about Gus

Gus was born 13 days before his scheduled c-section and that landed him in the neo-natal intensive care unit instead of in my arms. He shouldn’t have been in the NICU and I firmly believe he was being held for ransom – because we certainly had to pay a number of extra bills for services we didn’t want and, our pediatrician has confirmed, that we did not need. What we needed was to be together – which the hospital insisted on making impossible. Ozzie had a fever and was banned from the NICU. He was also banned from me because they wouldn’t allow me in the NICU if I was exposed to his fever. Most of the time I was alone in the hospital room and the nurses wouldn’t answer my calls. They would miss my medication doses and ignored me for almost an hour after I had thrown up in my own lap. They told me they were busy with mom’s who had babies. I did have a baby and wanted to see him, I told them. They told me they didn’t have time to help me with that. They also insisted I had to have a wheel chair to visit the NICU, but could never seem to make a wheel chair available. After repeatedly being ignored I stumbled out of my room to the nurse’s station and – through tears – demanded to be given some pain medication and some access to my child. I was told to use the buzzer if I needed something and to never get out of my bed without permission. I screamed at them in horror until one of the nurses took pity on me and gave me my long overdue dose of pain medication and took me to the NICU.
In the NICU the nurses there chastised me for not coming sooner or more often. They handed me paper work that told me they would communicate with me openly and often and then they moved the baby to another section without telling me. They performed medical treatments that they did not discuss with me and they made it clear that they believed that I had no rights or no input regarding the care of my child. Save for one very kind nurse, they were horrible. They were condescending and used guilt to pressure me. They treated me as if I were a teenage mom with a heroin addiction and spoke to me in such a way that indicated that they believed my baby would die if he were to be placed in my care. They made me watch a series of mind-numbing parenting videos and only let me feed him if I could force-feed him a prescribed amount of formula in an allotted amount of time. One nurse, who was hopped up on some sort of energy drink, pushed me out of the way while I was changing his diaper and told me I was taking too long. She also took him and his bottle away from me and said he needed to hurry up and finish so she could take a bathroom break. And before they let me bring him home – which they told me was against their better judgment – they strapped him into his car seat and made him sit in it for an hour. All this for a 7 pound baby who was not sick. I know how important the NICU is for families with sick babies. I know that lives are saved and I do value the work that hospitals, doctors and nurses do. I realize that these are often tiring, thankless careers performed by people who are often overworked and underpaid, but that does not excuse even for a minute the poor care and treatment that I received and it does not make it okay to needlessly keep a newborn away from his family.

He was born on a Wednesday, but didn’t get his name until Friday because I wasn’t allowed to hold him and I desperately wanted to hold him, to know him before I named him. I finally named him on Friday after pressure from the hospital records clerk who said she would have to submit his name as “Baby Boy” if I did not. I would have had to legally change his name and that, she said, was a process I would not want to go through. So, I named him. Gus Weaver. Of course, we had discussed names, but sadly, Ozzie wasn’t there for the final decision due to the aforementioned fever. On Sunday, after ridiculously sitting in his car seat for an hour, Gus was finally allowed to come home. He got to meet his brother and see his daddy and he was finally able to be in my arms – which he loved and so did I. In those early days, Gus loved to be with his mommy. In fact, both Ozzie and Grandma said they felt like he didn’t like them because he only wanted to be with me. I knew that wasn’t the case. We just had some catching up to do. And that’s what we did. Now, going on two years later we never think about those first four days. I can’t. I get entirely too angry and rather than stew about something I cannot change I choose to focus on the fact that Gus did finally get to come home, that he was and continues to be healthy and that we get to spend every day together now.
Ozzie and Grandma no longer question whether or not Gus likes them. It’s clear he loves them. A couple of weeks ago he even said “I love you” to Ozzie. If given a choice between the two of us, he picks his daddy. When Ozzie comes in the door Gus squeals with delight. The only person he prefers to Ozzie is Sam, who he follows around and emulates and idolizes. Gus loves to wear shoes and as soon as he’s dressed in the morning he pulls out his shoes and insists we put them on him whether we are leaving the house or not. “I go,” he yells and then puts his arms behind his back and runs forward as if he’s flying. He says, “night-night” and puts his head in my lap when he’s tired. He climbs into the refrigerator when he’s hungry. He loves to eat protein: eggs, meat, chicken, shrimp, yogurt, but doesn’t have much time for fruits or vegetables. He’s a huge fan of applesauce and insists on using his own spoon. It’s clear he’s not missed many meals and, due to being carted around at odd times to accommodate his brother’s schedule, Gus believes that he is supposed to eat every time he gets in the car. He plays golf most days and claps and says “Yeah” when he connects the club with the ball. Trains are his passion because they are Sam’s as well. He refers to every animal he sees as Riley and usually at the top of his lungs. He’s not much for swinging, but sliding suits him just fine.

He’s a really, really good sleeper and he’s always happy to take a bath and brush his teeth. When he finishes brushing his teeth he says, “Ding!” A trick he’s learned from his brother. He doesn’t say “no”, but he says, “uh-uh” and it means the same thing. His current favorite book is Dr. Seuss’s The Foot Book, but really, any book will do as long as it is a book and it is being read to him and he can turn the pages. Both boys love books. I pray that love lasts a lifetime for them. He is happy and agreeable and so easy-going, but on the rare occasion he’s perturbed he can give a really mean stink-eye that involves scrunching up his nose. He’s a master Swifferer and always offers to help clean up then claps and cheers after he’s put something away. Oh, he’s sweet and gentle. Our gentle giant. He’s curious and impish and sometimes downright feisty. He jumps on the bed with wild abandon then flops back on the pillows and points the remote at the TV. He likes to push the buttons on the phone and sometimes will talk in it. He is usually up for an adventure and each day with him is an adventure for me. “Oh, wow!” he says when he sees something full of wonder and when he’s given something, he says, “Thank you”. He looks so big in his crib, but seems so small when I look into his big, blue eyes. He’s an amazing, precious, wonderful, miraculous gift from heaven and he makes me feel all gooey and sappy like my heart is bubbling over with love and rainbows and sunshine and unicorns and butterflies and fairy dust, for good measure.
He’s worth it. He’s worth those four horrible days that he was kept from me and I’d do it all again if it meant that was the only path to Gus. As bitter and as broken as that path was it led to one of the sweetest, dreamiest, delicious, gooey baby boys a mom could ever hope for.