[alwaysus]

I stood outside the procedure room with my head resting against the cool wall. I was trying in vain to hide the fact that I was crying. My nine month old son Elijah was on the other side of that wall going through a tiny bit of hell.His screams were so loud that the huge wooden door did almost nothing to muffle them.I could make the nurses stop if I wanted to, but they were trying to help him. "Severe dehydration due to the rotavirus" was what caused all of this. I tried to avoid the hospital. Feeding him pedialyte every 15 minutes around the clock didn’t work. So here we were 3 days into the worst stomach virus I have ever seen. The Doctors admitted him as soon as I brought him in. He was a sick little man.

A nurse walked up to me holding his chart. "Are you OK Mrs. Richards?’ she asked.

"No." I answered." Elijah is so dehydrated that they are having a very hard time getting the IV in; they are considering doing a "cut down" to get it started. They have poked him so many times and I can’t stand to hear him scream." I told her "I just want this to be over, he is probably terrified"

The nurse patted my arm in an attempt to comfort me." I saw in his chart that he is adopted" She said. "Do you have any real children?"

At the time, I was too upset to answer her calmly, so I chose not to answer at all.

After 35 minutes the IV had been inserted and he was back in his room.Thankfully they didn't have to do a cut down, but they did have to stick him 5 different times before they found a good vein.

I sat in the chair holding my precious little baby. I sat and caressed his little cheeks that were still red from all of the screaming. I watched him while he slept. I hurt for him, I wanted to take all of his sickness and put it on myself. I loved him so much at that moment my heart actually ached. I thought of what the nurse asked me. I shook my head and once again tears started to fall. I’ll be darned if that’s not real. If it was any more real, I'd probably self destruct.

The nurse came into check his vitals and I finally addressed her earlier question. "I have had 7 children, and although some of them were adopted, they are all very much my real children." I then asked her a question. "Have you ever read the Velveteen Rabbit?"

"I can’t say that I remember" She answered, puzzled by the question.

I simply made a non committal noise and off she went.

My favorite part of the story ran through my head and I rocked my sick little son:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery finder, before Nana came to tidy the room.

"Real isn’t how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are real, you don’t mind being hurt."
I guess we are both real.