Posted on | August 22, 2012 | 11 Comments
“We can give you something to stop the contractions and try to manually flip him over if you want,” my doctor turned his brown eyes on mine and I weighed my options. I wanted to be able to deliver without a c-section so I reluctantly agreed.
Less than an hour later I was in the operating room for the c-section delivery of my first child.
It’s funny, when you have a baby, everyone tells you that it goes by so fast and to enjoy every minute. Everyone tells you they’ll be grown in the blink of an eye. But then you have that baby and time slows down. Your life becomes measured in ounces and inches, days, weeks and months. You muddle through the first few weeks and wonder why anyone told you it would go so fast when clearly time has stopped and you are entrenched in a sleep-deprived hell from which there is no relief.
And then you stretch your arms to pick up that newborn and they reach for you for the first time. You go to change a diaper and realize they’ve outgrown the size they were in. You put away the life-saving bouncy seats or swings or jumperoos because they’ve somehow out grown them, while time stood still.
You wrap presents and celebrate the first birthday as your newborn toddles around beside you, opening their own gifts and babbling their own words. You do it all again and wonder why everyone keeps saying he’s two when you remember so clearly the wrinkles of his face beneath the blue and pink striped hospital cap.
And then you wake up, in your world where time stopped, and you are watching your three year old run full speed around your house, racing cars and naming his toys ridiculous and funny names like “Pogo” and “Potsy.” You open your arms wide and he barrels into you with the force of a steam engine, with the joy of a child, with the legs and arms and size of an inexplicable toddler.
I watch my son wiping the crumbs from his hands and face and eating his birthday cupcake (yes, for breakfast) and I wonder how it’s possible that I ever existed without him. I try to remember my life before but it’s a blank sheet of waiting for these moments, these curls, these hugs. I can’t remember, don’t want to remember a world that doesn’t hold him carefully in it’s embrace, laughing with him over the ridiculousness of life and crying alongside his tears.
Today is J’s third birthday. And though he challenges me every day with his questions and his rebellion, I wouldn’t change a hair on his head. Because deep inside the tall, barreling child of mine lies the sweet and innocent baby he was… because while the rest of you have moved on, in my heart… time still stands in a stark white hospital room, staring into the curious, velvet eyes of my brand new boy.
Happy birthday, my sweet boy. Momma loves you more than you’ll ever know.