Overwhelmed

The touch of his tiny hand on my breastbone, thump, thump, as he settles into his morning nap. The delicious weight af his head resting in the nook of my arm,the warmth of his body against my legs. His peculiar smell, of baby sweat, the tomato soup he had for dinner last night, and something sweet. His gentle breathing.
Faced with being the adult, the one who must decide. What if I choose wrong, what if happenstance or slight risk or error were to do the unspeakable. For I won't write it not here. What the hell do I know about risks and complications, of general anesthesia, of anemia? In the end it isn't so much choice but trust in those doctor's, but they are only human, and this doesn't seem good enough, not for my little one.


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