"Where's the baby? Where's Matthew?" was the first words out of my mouth when we arrived at the hospital. I was about to turn 11, and still withheld the naive innocent side that a child does until you become older. My mom's best friend, Josie was due to have a baby boy; but born a month premature, Matthew was struggling to survive. I didn't realize it then, but hospitals and babies would turn into my future.
             Born in September, nearly a month early, Matthew was held in intensive care struggling to survive. I remember arriving at the hospital, nervous to see the baby, to see a sight that I had never seen before; Matthew hooked up to all these machines in an incubator, a tunnel that would somehow save his life. Thoroughly and religiously, before we were allowed to enter the room, we washed our hands and had to watch a clock to make sure that we washed for at least three minutes; three minutes that would seem like an eternity for ten year old. But the three minutes were vital to preserving what little health the babies had.
             After completing the prep of washing our hands, we could go into the ICU with a hospital robe on. Standing, staring at him, I watched a machine breathe for him; not fully recognizing what was taking place. Prior to this visit, approximately two weeks ago, Matthew had undergone surgery to repair his lungs and heart that had not developed completely.
             Slowly the recovery was taking place, but he was still under constant care of the incubator.
             Josie asked, "Would you like to hold him?"
             Something sunk in my stomach which cause a rush of nervousness, but concluded, with, "Yes, are you sure it'll be alright to hold him?"
             Josie responded, "It will be fine, just watch he head, and sit down so I can hand him to you,"
             I sat down in the rocking chair and they placed him in my arms, having never held a baby before, it was one of the greate...