November 7th, 2017; 8:00 a.m. One day before my scheduled c-section for medical reasons. My water breaks. And then my contractions start. Andee tells me I have 10 minutes to get ready and out the door - we were heading to the hospital. Naturally, I curled my hair. Because that was a good use of 10 minutes. In the time it took to get to the hospital (10 minutes), my contractions had become very close together; in fact, they were less than five minutes apart. I was progressing quickly. The contractions were exactly what I was expecting. Andee watched the monitor and let me know when they would stop. Epidural. Surgery. Andee by my side.
Oh, my heart.
And then....Baby. My baby. Our baby. He came into the world with a soft cry that obliterated my heart into a million pieces. He was healthy and just the perfect size. He had perfect features and tiny little limbs like his Momma. And he was mine. I stared at him for 3 days at the hospital. The surgery was rough and I couldn't pick him up on my own for a couple weeks. But when Andee would hand him to me I was holing onto a little miracle that God knit together inside of me. I barely noticed the lack of sleep because I was so in love with my perfect little boy.
Oh, my heart.
And then, a couple weeks went by. I wasn't recovering well from surgery and everything hurt. The lack of sleep caught up with both Andee and I, and Aaron started showing signs of colic. Which means he cries. All. The. Time. And with gusto. Arched back, red face, screams, and my little boy experiencing such discomfort that it makes my heart hurt. And my ears. And my everything. I started crying constantly alongside my baby, sure that I was unfit to be his mother if I couldn't even soothe him. I should be able to do this. I'm his mother - why can't I give him what he needs?
Oh, my heart.
And it has improved. I'm still in pain and am starting physical therapy. He still cries. All. The. Time. But he sleeps better at night. And I've amped up my arsenal of soothing techniques. And I've talked with other moms that assure me that this is normal, and that I will eventually sleep again. And I will have less pain. And that it's okay to be overwhelmed. And when family came to visit, we were supported and helped through this difficult phase.
Oh, my heart.
But today. Today I get it. For the first time today my baby smiled at me. And not the reflex smiles that happen in their sleep. But a real, genuine, smile. He looked directly into my eyes, held my gaze, and smiled back at my own smiling face as I told him how much I loved him. And I know that this is just a phase. And I know that it's worth it. And that my baby won't be a baby forever. And that he will become more and more interactive and will develop a personality of his own. And that I am so looking forward to my baby growing up, while at the same time wanting time to slow down as he outgrows his tiny little sleepers.
Oh, my heart.
And I still feel like a failure some of the time. And I'm still exhausted and hurting. And I wear noise cancelling headphones while I attempt to soothe my screaming baby. My life is completely different than it was before. And it's hard. And I'm tempted to throw in the towel. But I have been blessed with this beautiful baby boy. The one with the perfect features and tiny limbs. An adorable mix of his mom and dad. And as I type this I am
Aaron James Luke. November 7th, 2017. 6 lbs 4 oz. 18.5 inches. Oh, my heart.
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