Erik

The door opens slowly, a gentle knock on the thick wood, before a nurse steps into the room with a calm smile on her face. She is wearing a sterile white gown and her hair is pinned up in a practical knot. In her hands, she is holding a small bag with items for the baby. Her eyes are warm, with a hint of compassion, as she looks at the young mother.
“Hello, Madeleine,” she says softly and steps closer to the bed. Her gaze wanders to the little boy in Maddi's arms. She sees the expression on Maddi's face and immediately realizes that the situation is more difficult than she thought.

“I can see we're having a few issues at the beginning,” she says calmly and full of understanding. She pulls up a chair and sits down. “You're not alone in this, we'll help you.”
Maddi looks up, tears glistening in her eyes. She feels so incredibly helpless, her hands trembling as she hugs the baby even tighter. She feels so terribly useless. His thin wrist has a ribbon with his name on it. The name feels strangely foreign, but it's there now, this little person she's always dreamed of.
“I... I don't know what to do,” she says, her voice almost breaking. ”He won't take anything, he... he can't...”
“Yeah... It's hard, especially at first,” says the nurse sympathetically. “But you don't have to go through it all alone. The cleft in his mouth will be treated in a few months. For now, we'll make sure he puts on weight.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a special bottle attachment - a soft, flexible teat designed for babies with a cleft palate. “Look, we have these special attachments. They can help him to feed without him having to strain too much.”

Maddi looks at the attachment and feels empty for a moment. So much equipment, so many things she didn't know he would need. Her fingers stroke the soft plastic. Her breasts still ache.
“Your child needs you, but you also need support, do you understand?” the nurse says with a smile.
The woman patiently shows her how to pump, how to attach the attachment to the bottle, how to hold the baby properly and how to feed him with the bottle while gently cradling him in her arms. It's a slow, painful effort, but it works. He carefully takes his first sip and Maddi can't help but smile with relief, even if for her is a bitter moment.
“Can you see? He's getting the hang of it,” says the nurse. “He's learning.”
Maddi nods, and she holds the little life, full of love, tighter in her arms. “Erik...” she whispers as she says the name for the first time. “Erik. A fighter. Like a Viking. Charles would have liked that...” A small, almost restrained smile crosses her face. “He'll be... strong.”
The nurse nods. “Yes. Erik. A brave name for a brave little boy.”
Maddi looks at her son and then back at the nurse. The name suddenly feels less foreign, more like a promise.

A promise that her son is special, even if he is different. A name for a fighter.
“I'll be there for him, no matter what,” Maddi whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. “You will, Madeleine,” the nurse says gently. “You will.”