little bird

so small, but so strong.

[dearphoenixschuyler]

Dear Phoenix Schuyler,

You have a name! It’s the only one that seemed to stick around in my head. Mom cried when I told her, Dad did too. Dad seems to be crying a lot these days. Mom says it’s because it brings back memories of me being in the NICU as a baby. I guess that’s understandable..

He likes to keep watch over you when I can’t, and has decided his name is Pap Pap. 

The nurses, and your grandparents, have taken to calling you Birdie -- which is definitely an upgrade from Chicken. 

You’re gaining weight and you’ve been moved out of your isolette into a warming bed, which is good, but you’re sick. You have RSV and I don’t know whether I should be worrying more than I am. I don’t know whether I should be feeling more than I am. The doctors said you’re doing good, that they’re prepared with more oxygen if you need it. 

I kinda blacked out when they were talking, honestly, but mom knows. 

You have hair now too! It looks like you’re going to be a red head like your father, guess that’s one thing he’s given you. The nurses keep producing bows out of nowhere, you don’t really seem to care, but they make me smile so that’s something.

[dearphoenixschuyler]

Dear.. Baby? 

I don’t know your name yet. Honestly? How am I supposed to choose a name for someone I’ve only just met? I don’t know anything about you other than you look kind of like an undercooked chicken, with a bunch of tubes and wires all over you.

Mom says you’re beautiful. I wish I could think the same. She says you’re doing really well, better than your uncle -- fuck, that’s a scary thought! -- but I don’t know how she can tell. 

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I just remember seeing somewhere that keeping a diary can help when you’re going through shit. And I think this definitely counts as Shit with a capital S. 

It’s horrible to say but.. I didn’t want you. I never wanted to follow in my bio-mom’s footsteps. I wanted to go to college, travel, establish myself. Mom says I still can, but I’m sure she’s just trying to make me feel better. 

I just.. I thought I’d have more time. I thought I could prepare myself, make myself be okay with my entire life changing. You obviously thought different. Or maybe my body just decided for both of us that now was the right time. I don’t know. 

All I know is that everything hurts, and hospital food tastes god awful. And I guess I better get used to it.