i was laying in the straw with norman, watching his rapid respirations, he won't take the electrolyte bottle so i tried just his regular milk bottle and he won't take that either. i laid with him with his tiny chin in one hand as i rubbed his head with the other and i wondered as he slipped to his side, and his eyes closed and his head slipped back and his legs stretched out....is he going to die tonight?...or is he just bone weary tired from being so ill?
he is just a tiny 2 week old baby, does he have the will and the strength to fight hard enough to live and grow?
i don't know.
all i could think of as i comforted this sick little babe with my hands and voice was i wasn't what this baby needed, he needed his mother to nurse him, to nuture him, to teach him, to keep him safe, to be his anchor in a world so new and so hard to understand.
such a battle, a war he has fought in his mere 2 weeks of life. such an enormous loss to be stolen away from his mother the moment he was born into this life.
it makes me so sad.
i told him if he wanted to live, i would do my best to ensure that he had a happy life. but if he has had enough and wants to go, i do truly understand.
life has thus far, not been kind to little norman.
i will go and lay with him periodically thru the night but i am not his mother. i am but a kind unknown alien whose words are meaningless to his ears. i am not his mother..he was stolen away before he even knew how much he needed her...before he even knew he had her.