He doesn't know when he explains the possible long-term damage of prematurity with words such as brain damage and cerebral palsy, all of which emerge from the mouths of doctors.
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The monitors do not know the pulsating sounds under my skin and the ice water passing through my veins when the heart rate falls or falls dangerously.
The first time I held him in my lap, he didn't know that his head was wet with tears, and when he took it back, my patient didn't know my scrub was soaked.
He has no idea that he works like an Olympic athlete in order to hold onto his share of the air and nutrients. He doesn't remember the blue color of the intensive care unit or the frightening noise from life support units.
The memories in her mind consist of photographs of her age that she had seen and the stories we filled with details as they grew.
I will tell him how close he was to fly away from the world I would tell him everything he needed when he was old enough to be loaded or when he needed to remember the struggling spirit within him.
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Now, the miracle of my son is an afternoon, the exact equivalent of being satisfied for me.
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