Page 95 of Ice Cold Hearts
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EMILY
“Emily, your eleven o’clock is here,” squawks the walkie-talkie.
“I’ll be right up,” I radio back.
I practically skip to the front to collect my patient. Most of the patients on my caseload are adults, so the few pediatric patients I have are often the highlight of my day. It’s a nice way to get my baby fix without having to have a second child.
“Oh, look at you!” I coo. “You’re getting so big.”
Ryder squeals and flaps his hands at me.
Lindsey laughs. “I think you might be his favorite person here.”
“We love to hear that, don’t we?” I say, tickling his belly. “Are you ready to get big and strong?”
Ryder grunts at me. I decide to interpret it as enthusiastic consent.
Lindsey follows me down the hall, bouncing him in her arms, to the main treatment room. It’s busy today. Nearly every station is occupied. I claim the first treatment table I see and settle us in there. Lindsey and I chit chat about how the family is doing, Ryder’s general health, and swap parenting war stories while I take his baseline vitals.
It’s so nice to get to talk to another mom about day to day stuff that I'm practically giddy over the normalcy of it all. Talking about feedings and burpings and sleep schedules with Lindsey distracts me from worrying about all the other shit going on in my life. When I’m present in the moment and solely focused on working with my patients, I can tune out all the other worries and be Emily again instead of an anxious prey animal.
“I’m afraid the vitals confirm my suspicion.” I nod gravely. “He is, in fact, the cutest baby at the practice.”
Lindsey smiles. “So he’s looking all right, then?”
“He looks great. You’re doing an awesome job with him. Any new concerns or things that have come up?” I ask.
“Just the usual stuff. Nothing new.”
“And how are we doing with our homework?” I ask.
She sighs. “I try to do a little bit of work with him every day, but with two other kids at home, it’s really more like every other day. Ryder hates doing them and screams like he’s dying, but James and I are giving him a lot of breaks and encouragement, so we’re chugging along. They are getting easier for him, though. We’re seeing some progress at home. I’ve even started seeing him attempt to crawl on his own.”
“That is an excellent sign.” I smile approvingly.
“He’s not very successful,” Lindsey worries. “He keeps tipping over onto his face and getting upset.”
“Ryder will get there. That’s why we’re here.” I shift my focus to him. “Isn’t that right, my handsome little man?”
“Ba!” he shouts, slapping his hand to his chest.
“Is that your battle cry today, little warrior?” I ask, lifting him up onto the treatment table. “Are you going to be so brave today?”
I help Ryder through some stretches and practice some positioning to build up his trunk and back muscles and some seated play to encourage him to put weight on his hips.
“We still have a ways to go,” I say once we’re back in my office after treatment, “but Ryder is making excellent progress. I still want you here three times a week, but if he continues the way he’s going, we’ll be able to drop down to twice a week fairly soon.”
Lindsey’s eyes brighten. “I’m so happy I could cry. Thank you.”
I shake my head. “Ryder’s the one doing all the heavy lifting here. I’m just the support.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you supporting him even with all the nonsense going on lately. You’re more than worth any pesky reporters.” She smiles encouragingly.
I freeze in place. The gnawing dread I’ve been successfully distracting myself from comes flooding back in.
“What do you mean?” I ask.