Friday, February 20, 2009

Eight years ago

They took him away after that initial meeting. They always do. They take him away with the promise that they'll bring him right back. They just need to do this, and one of these, and some of that.

They wheel you to another room, your now slightly jiggly belly, empty. And you sit and wait, alone, because your husband has went with the new baby, torn between staying with the woman who just birthed his first offspring and following the helpless offspring. The shiny new offspring always wins.

And you wait. Patiently at first, because you want him to be safe, to be healthy, to be thoroughly checked out. But then you start to worry. And you start to feel a little lonely. And then it turns into an all-out panic.

And finally, after two hours, a nurse wheels your shiny new offspring back to you, followed by a giddy if not exhausted dad. And she drones on and on about feeding and diapering and poops and umbilical cord care...and it's all you can do to not rip her face off and demand she give you the baby. NOW.

And then she finally shuts up and hands over the goods. And he's there. Warm and pink and soft and blond. So much blond hair. And you finally get to nuzzle the sweet, soft spot of his neck and examine every toenail and fold, and get to whisper his name into his ear, and you break into sobs.

And when your husband asks if everything's okay, you nod and assure him you're fine, excellent in fact, you just missed the baby.

What you don't tell him is that it's more than missed, it was an ache. A frantic, panicky ache. But now that he's here, and you have him in your arms, everything in the whole world is just fine.


Big D turned eight years old yesterday.

For some reason, all day long, while I baked cupcakes and wrapped presents and anticipated the look on his face at chocolate chocolate chip frosting, that frantic, panicky feeling would come. He's eight, well on his way to being taller than I am, smarter than a kid should be, still has a ton of blond hair, and I adore all of that.

But I think I miss that warm and soft and pink baby something fierce.


Keely said...

omg - that two hours would feel like eternity. I didn't get to see X for almost 24 hours after they took him because he went to NICU - it was VERY disconcerting. And I still feel that panicky edge every once in a while - good to know it doesn't go away after 8 years ;)

Elisa said...

I loved this post so much, I tweeted about it. Because it is so very true, from the "be right back" thing to the fact that the shiny new offspring always wins :-)

Happy Birthday, Big D!

Ginny Marie said...

What a great post! You captured that panicky even though I'm in a secure hospital GIVE ME MY BABY feeling perfectly!

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