Monday, February 11, 2008

Baby Love

I was thinking, today, about the day we went to the E.R. when I was pregnant with Cullen. I remember that I was 16 weeks along and I felt so accomplished, and that I had just passed the point where I no longer had to worry much about miscarriage...

I volunteered for an ultrasound clinic the day before. I got to see my baby blissfully wiggling around in there for a couple of hours, and found out he was a BOY. I remember telling Laura that I felt like I could start to think of him as my baby and get sentimental and all that.

And then... I got up in the morning, walked into the livingroom, and felt a gush. I thought I was peeing in my pants and ran to the bathroom. I wasn't peeing in my pants. I was horrified to find that it was blood. I started yelling "Oh shit oh shit!" and crying, and Jason asked what was going on and I said we needed to go to the E.R.

I was mostly thinking about when I was on the bed and the E.R. doctor had checked me out. He said my cervix looked like it was starting to dilate. Then, and this is the part that gets me--he put his hand on my shoulder and had that look in his eyes. He said, "I'm sorry, but this is probably the beginning of a miscarriage."

I turned my head toward the wall and just started to cry that sort of silent cry when you're so choked up that no sound can escape you. The nurse said she would go get my husband.

Jason and the girls held my arm/hand as they wheeled me in to get an ultrasound. I remember being so incredibly heartbroken as I watched him on ultrasound, unaware, healthy, happy. Everything going so right with him...he was perfect. I remember thinking that he's perfect and being so mad that something like this could happen.

Well, it turned out that my cervix probably wasn't dilating, but I was bleeding because the edge of the placenta had separated just a little. I was told not to do anything I didn't have to do, but that I didn't have to lay in bed--"modified bedrest"... No more rowing! No more walks. No more carrying children or laundry baskets... that sort of thing. Plenty of sitting around.

I remember wondering when I would stop feeling like I was walking on eggshells. Every time I bumped my belly in the slightest bit, I thought...OH no...I'm so sorry, baby...

And then, he was born. We did it. Man. What a great day. A beautiful baby boy, all mine...

I feel so much love when I look at him. Every time he wakes up and I peer over the edge of the crib, he gives me a drooly, bubbly gummy grin and he makes me laugh. I love taking off his onesie because he laughs every time. His arms are really ticklish and then I get to see his shoulder chub, and then I just have to gobble his shoulders.

Today I had him sitting up on the couch with me and the girls were showing him all of their toys. I just sat there and watched and felt like it was the happiest moment of my life.

A lot of this parenting stuff is so hard to figure out, and then you have two people trying to figure it out, and a million different ways of doing things, and you have to meet in the middle somewhere... There are so many moments when I think, "What the hell am I DOING???" but then there will be that one golden moment... that one success... Wow, does that ever feel good.

I'm trying to figure out how to wrap this one up. I don't know. I just wanted to write about those things, because I didn't really before, and I finally just sat and thought about it today so I thought it was time to write about it.


hadjare said...

This was such a lovely post. I had a great time reading it. :) I know what you mean about those moments. I had one of them during Dark December, I was breastfeeding Morella, and Tim was playing accordion and everything for a moment, seemed perfect.

Also, I am glad that you changed the format. That white text on a black background is hard on the eyes.

Anonymous said...

I got goosebumps from that one.

And I don't remember my username & crap from this one because I haven't been on in so long.


amy said...

that was such a nice story. i am going to go make a baby.