“We can bring you up breakfast now. Eggs or waffles?”
I glanced up and squinted at her.
“Sure! Tea or coffee?”
Coffee? Hmm… now that’s interesting.
“Ummm… sure. Coffee.”
What felt like minutes later, breakfast sat in front of me. I didn’t feel hungry. I didn’t feel much of anything. And at the same time, I felt everything. Love. Pride. Excitement. Anxiety. Relief. Wow.
The room was buzzing. The quiet, darkly-lit serenity that had surrounded me just moments before had vanished. In it’s place were bright lights. So many voices. Cries occasionally filled the spaces between. The clicking of photos being taken and text messages being sent.
The world had just very clearly, and very significantly changed.
I stared in the direction of the hub of noise, cranking my neck to see through the circle of women, trying to catch a glimpse of her small, dark head or tiny, flailing feet.
“Eat. You should eat.”
I took a bite before lifting the small, plastic coffee cup. It reminded me of a cup one might use while camping.
I took a small, testing-the-temperature kind of sip.
As the dark, caffeine-laden liquid passed through my lips, an unmistakable “Ahhhh” escaped.
Had I really gone nearly two years without this? Had I totally forgotten what I was missing?
Would it really only take a small cup of hospital coffee to turn me back into the coffee-seeker I once had been?
Oh yes. Yes indeed.
I’d forgotten that taste. That irrefutable feeling of comfort and contentedness. The way that I relaxed as the warmth made it’s way down my throat. The way I slowly grew more and more alert. Yes. Coffee would come in handy in this new life.
I finished the cup within minutes. As I took that last, wonderful sip, I planned to immediately ask for more.
But then they brought her back to me. Swaddled tightly, she was quietly looking around with the biggest eyes I’d ever seen.
I smiled down at her as they nestled her into my arms. I couldn’t look away.
Yeah… there would be time for more coffee later.