It is 2:07 PM. At this very moment, one year ago, I was being prepped for the arrival of my son. I had been in the hospital, in a windowless room, for four days straight. I hadn't seen the sun since Monday. I hadn't had the normal experience of giving birth. Robbie's mother had passed away the morning I was admitted to the hospital, and he needed to leave that weekend for the funeral. So, my sister and my mom had just arrived from Kansas City, as they drove all the way to Atlanta to be with me and the baby while he was away. A gesture I will never forget. I don't know what I would have done without them.
I was scared. I held Robbie's hand while they began my epidural. I managed to push out the words through my tears and intense sobbing, "I'm scared! I'm not ready for him, I'm not ready to be a mom, Robbie!" It was just too real, too quickly. I had just spent almost a week of my life in the hospital, desperately trying to go into labor. "Your body just isn't taking to the induction medicines." Three rounds of the Cervidyl/Pitocin process over a four day period, only to be checked every morning and night, and told that no progress had been made. There was no way but forward.
They moved me to the surgery room and onto a metal table. I lost consciousness between the cocktail of drugs being pumped into my body and the overall shock of the situation. I awoke to oxygen over my face and Robbie sitting next to me. Suddenly the doctor announced, "We're going to begin now."
I drifted into space. I looked into Robb's eyes and wondered what he must have been thinking.
Tugging and pulling, like a rope being yanked out of my stomach. Robb later told me he saw my organs and insides, and the yellow iodine floating in the mess.
"We're going to pull the baby out now. You're going to feel some pressure and tugging."
It felt like they were tying a big knot with the rope, then pushing it back in my body.
Suddenly, at 2:51 in the afternoon, he was lifted from me, and he cried out. I began to cry too, out of love, out of relief. "Is he okay?" I muttered, but no one heard me. I asked again.
"He's fine, they're just cleaning him up." Robb was taking photos of him.
I remember them sewing me back up, and riding in the elevator. Suddenly I was in the recovery room, my baby nowhere to be found. Robb handed me a bouquet of yellow flowers and a white bear with a blue bow around its neck, sent to me by my grandparents back home. It arrived at the perfect time as I tried to recover from the emotions of what just transpired. I looked for him, and I asked for him. Someone answered me, but I didn't hear or care.
"Where is he? Can I have him yet?"
"Not yet, they're going to give him a little bath." Minutes passed. I don't know how many. I asked again. Still no.
After a while, I began to cry. I felt the instincts of a mother without her newborn child rise up in me. I imagined a mother cat or dog after their baby has been taken from them. I wanted my baby. A nurse approached me.
"Honey, are you in pain?"
"I think she just wants to hold him." Robb said. I don't know how much longer it was. I sat inside my mind, watching myself watch the scene. Is this a dream? Am I awake?
I knew the significance of the moment. I knew I'd watch this play in my memories over and over, for the rest of my life. But I just couldn't wrap my head around it in that moment.
Finally, they gave him to me. He laid on my bare chest, and I wondered if he knew who I was.
"Hi, Samuel. I'm your mama." He opened his eyes and looked at me.
"Try seeing if he'll breastfeed." A nurse suggested. I tried and he took to it immediately.
They took him again after a while. I don't know how long I got to hold him, and I don't remember anything except being put in my bed in my new room. A smaller room, but with a window and a view.
I asked Robbie to get my mom and sister. Suddenly they were in the room, and cooing over Samuel.
I felt like I was in Wonderland. It could have been a dream and it would have made just as much sense to me.
After a few hours, Robbie left for home so he could get up early the next morning for his flight. My mom, sister, and I spent the night at the hospital.
The weekend was a blur. He was choking on fluids a lot, and my recovery prevented me from tending to him, so I needed someone with him and I at all times.
On the last day, Sunday, my mom and sister left for Kansas City again, and Robb was due that evening. I felt good enough to walk around and care for him, so I wasn't too worried.
It was a sleepy day. I turned off the lights and let the natural light come in through the window. I did a mini photoshoot of my little love, and I slept with him in my arms.
I whispered vows to him, promises and wishes that mothers give to their children. I prayed and expressed my gratefulness about his existence and his health, and I kissed his sweet face.
There are many memories we made together over this year, and I can't wait for the future. It hasn't been easy. Postpartum depression made things difficult in those first few months, and so did a lot of circumstantial things.
But my love for my little boy has never wavered. He is such a bright light in my life, because before him, I felt chaotic and unsettled. He has changed my life in the best possible way, and I am forever grateful for that. Here is to many more birthdays, hugs and kisses. Memories of trips and vacations, movies, singing stupid songs in the car, craft nights, baking and helping to cook dinner, hikes and nature walks, visits to other cities, theme parks, holidays and traditions, first days and first everything, and all that life will bring us in the future. I am with you every moment, my little bear. Even when I am not.
I love you, Samuel Augustine. Happy very first birthday.
"Try seeing if he'll breastfeed." A nurse suggested. I tried and he took to it immediately.
They took him again after a while. I don't know how long I got to hold him, and I don't remember anything except being put in my bed in my new room. A smaller room, but with a window and a view.
I asked Robbie to get my mom and sister. Suddenly they were in the room, and cooing over Samuel.
I felt like I was in Wonderland. It could have been a dream and it would have made just as much sense to me.
After a few hours, Robbie left for home so he could get up early the next morning for his flight. My mom, sister, and I spent the night at the hospital.
The weekend was a blur. He was choking on fluids a lot, and my recovery prevented me from tending to him, so I needed someone with him and I at all times.
On the last day, Sunday, my mom and sister left for Kansas City again, and Robb was due that evening. I felt good enough to walk around and care for him, so I wasn't too worried.
It was a sleepy day. I turned off the lights and let the natural light come in through the window. I did a mini photoshoot of my little love, and I slept with him in my arms.
I whispered vows to him, promises and wishes that mothers give to their children. I prayed and expressed my gratefulness about his existence and his health, and I kissed his sweet face.
There are many memories we made together over this year, and I can't wait for the future. It hasn't been easy. Postpartum depression made things difficult in those first few months, and so did a lot of circumstantial things.
But my love for my little boy has never wavered. He is such a bright light in my life, because before him, I felt chaotic and unsettled. He has changed my life in the best possible way, and I am forever grateful for that. Here is to many more birthdays, hugs and kisses. Memories of trips and vacations, movies, singing stupid songs in the car, craft nights, baking and helping to cook dinner, hikes and nature walks, visits to other cities, theme parks, holidays and traditions, first days and first everything, and all that life will bring us in the future. I am with you every moment, my little bear. Even when I am not.
I love you, Samuel Augustine. Happy very first birthday.
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