just_muse_me | 11.10.6. Auld Lang Syne
11.10.6. Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne ?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
[Follows all HERE]
It was a familiar scene now; Lachlan sitting beside his wife’s hospital bed patiently with their newborn son waiting for her to wake up. If he left her side, it was never for very long and he always made sure someone else was there to be with her when he couldn’t. It was New Year’s Eve, only minutes away from midnight and almost a week exactly since little Riley Patrick made his premature entry into the world. A week since Tara fell into a coma after the birth. A week of Lachlan feeling like he was breathing around a large lump of anxiousness lodged in his throat. Every minute that ticked by that she slept on made the lump just a tiny bit bigger. Swallowing didn’t move it. He just knew he had to stay patient and not give up hope. He never completely tuned the heart monitor out and never really stopped the occasional glances up at the illuminated numbers and lines on the black screens above his head. It could all change in the blink of an eye.
His son was nestled in a bundle of blue and lemon blankets on the edge of Tara’s bed, the swaddle loosened so his baby arms and legs could have a little bit of freedom. Lachlan sat with both arms tucked around the bundle, watching the tiny face closely and smiling. He tickled Riley’s little belly which was clothed in the gift from his Godfather and namesake, the Wee Campbell onesie. “If any of these lassies around here tries to dress you like a frog, son, you scream the place down, aye? I willnae blame you. I’ll be screaming right along with you…” He cleared his throat. “It’s nearly midnight. You know what that means? That means a new year is nearly here. 2009. The year you’ll have a whole bunch of firsts and all these people that love you are going to stick cameras in your face and talk baby talk to you. But you’ve got it made, my wee boy. You dinnae like anyone, you just pee or puke on them,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You can get away with that at your age…”
Riley made some soft baby noises and wrapped his hand around Lachlan’s finger. Lachlan smiled and brushed his thumb against his son’s wrist. Beyond the glass doors of Tara’s room, he heard the countdown start and he turned to see the staff crowded around the nurses’ station with some subdued celebratory paraphernalia like the odd hat and a Happy New Year banner strung behind the desk. He wet his lips and turned back to his son as the staff reached ‘…three, two, one!’ in their count, then started cheering softly. He leaned over and kissed Riley’s forehead softly. “Happy New Year, son…”
He took both of the baby’s hands with his and started to sing to him softly, his accent strongly edging through the classic Scottish song. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days o’ auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne…” He was going to pick the baby up for a cuddle, but he didn’t get a chance.
“Tell me it wasn’t a dream… tell me he’s real…”
Lachlan nearly peed himself and jumped out of his skin at the same time as his head snapped up and he found Tara watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh my god… T-Tara,” he said tearfully. He went to stand to move closer to her but quickly remembered his arms were bracing the infant on the side of the bed. He started to cry and carefully picked his son up into his arms so he could stoop to kiss her. “It wasnae a dream, beautiful… it wasnae a dream…”
He rested his cheek against her and pressed a kiss near her ear. “Oh god, you’re so beautiful,” he sobbed, moving back to lay the baby gently on her chest just below the pads of the heart monitor. He took her limp hand and held it against Riley’s back. “He’s real… our son, darlin’. Can you feel him?”
“I can feel him…” Tara’s own eyes filled with tears as she was hit with a scared wave of fear. She could sense that something was wrong with her but was too groggy to process it yet or fight through the gaping cavern of fog in her mind. She could feel the warmth of the baby’s back against her palm, trying to shake the feeling that she had dreamt the whole thing. But then Lachlan was back, his arms embraced around her and their son as he pressed some soft kisses to her nose and cheeks. He smelt just like he should and his lips were the familiar softness she needed. “Don’t let go…” she whispered.
“Never,” Lachlan whispered back and kept the protective embrace around the two people that were his whole life, both their tears wetting her cheek. “I love you. Stay with me, beautiful…”
Tara [doctortara] written by her mun
Word Count | 859
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne ?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
[Follows all HERE]
It was a familiar scene now; Lachlan sitting beside his wife’s hospital bed patiently with their newborn son waiting for her to wake up. If he left her side, it was never for very long and he always made sure someone else was there to be with her when he couldn’t. It was New Year’s Eve, only minutes away from midnight and almost a week exactly since little Riley Patrick made his premature entry into the world. A week since Tara fell into a coma after the birth. A week of Lachlan feeling like he was breathing around a large lump of anxiousness lodged in his throat. Every minute that ticked by that she slept on made the lump just a tiny bit bigger. Swallowing didn’t move it. He just knew he had to stay patient and not give up hope. He never completely tuned the heart monitor out and never really stopped the occasional glances up at the illuminated numbers and lines on the black screens above his head. It could all change in the blink of an eye.
His son was nestled in a bundle of blue and lemon blankets on the edge of Tara’s bed, the swaddle loosened so his baby arms and legs could have a little bit of freedom. Lachlan sat with both arms tucked around the bundle, watching the tiny face closely and smiling. He tickled Riley’s little belly which was clothed in the gift from his Godfather and namesake, the Wee Campbell onesie. “If any of these lassies around here tries to dress you like a frog, son, you scream the place down, aye? I willnae blame you. I’ll be screaming right along with you…” He cleared his throat. “It’s nearly midnight. You know what that means? That means a new year is nearly here. 2009. The year you’ll have a whole bunch of firsts and all these people that love you are going to stick cameras in your face and talk baby talk to you. But you’ve got it made, my wee boy. You dinnae like anyone, you just pee or puke on them,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You can get away with that at your age…”
Riley made some soft baby noises and wrapped his hand around Lachlan’s finger. Lachlan smiled and brushed his thumb against his son’s wrist. Beyond the glass doors of Tara’s room, he heard the countdown start and he turned to see the staff crowded around the nurses’ station with some subdued celebratory paraphernalia like the odd hat and a Happy New Year banner strung behind the desk. He wet his lips and turned back to his son as the staff reached ‘…three, two, one!’ in their count, then started cheering softly. He leaned over and kissed Riley’s forehead softly. “Happy New Year, son…”
He took both of the baby’s hands with his and started to sing to him softly, his accent strongly edging through the classic Scottish song. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days o’ auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne. We'll tak a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne…” He was going to pick the baby up for a cuddle, but he didn’t get a chance.
“Tell me it wasn’t a dream… tell me he’s real…”
Lachlan nearly peed himself and jumped out of his skin at the same time as his head snapped up and he found Tara watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh my god… T-Tara,” he said tearfully. He went to stand to move closer to her but quickly remembered his arms were bracing the infant on the side of the bed. He started to cry and carefully picked his son up into his arms so he could stoop to kiss her. “It wasnae a dream, beautiful… it wasnae a dream…”
He rested his cheek against her and pressed a kiss near her ear. “Oh god, you’re so beautiful,” he sobbed, moving back to lay the baby gently on her chest just below the pads of the heart monitor. He took her limp hand and held it against Riley’s back. “He’s real… our son, darlin’. Can you feel him?”
“I can feel him…” Tara’s own eyes filled with tears as she was hit with a scared wave of fear. She could sense that something was wrong with her but was too groggy to process it yet or fight through the gaping cavern of fog in her mind. She could feel the warmth of the baby’s back against her palm, trying to shake the feeling that she had dreamt the whole thing. But then Lachlan was back, his arms embraced around her and their son as he pressed some soft kisses to her nose and cheeks. He smelt just like he should and his lips were the familiar softness she needed. “Don’t let go…” she whispered.
“Never,” Lachlan whispered back and kept the protective embrace around the two people that were his whole life, both their tears wetting her cheek. “I love you. Stay with me, beautiful…”
Tara [doctortara] written by her mun
Word Count | 859