Two Years Ago Today…
Hi all. I’m still here. I’m still sick. And tired. And now – for added fun – I’m spotting too. But that’s not what I wanted to write about today.
Because today is the eve of my son’s second birthday. Which means that it was two years ago today that I was informed that my OB was ordering an induction for me for that night. In fact it was almost to the minute two years ago.
I was terrified. All my nightmare thoughts of what inductions could be, and how they could go wrong, were crowding in my head as I sobbed all the way home from the doctor’s office. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared (though I’d still like to avoid induction this time around if it’s at all possible).
I labored with my boy for seven hours before he entered the world. Some of those hours were less intense and some were dig-down-deep-in-your-soul hard. But I got through it. Between each contraction, after every push, I’d think “be ok baby. be ok baby. be ok baby.” And he was. He was perfect.
And when he was out, I watched in utter amazement as he wriggled his way up and latched on to nurse for the first time. I could hardly believe he was mine, and yet he was this familiar being whose movements I knew as well as my own.
I was afraid that morning. I was afraid to change his diaper. I was afraid to pick him up myself. Afraid he was too hot or too cold or not eating enough. Afraid I’d fail at the one thing that I’d ever attempted that really mattered.
As the months progressed some of those fears came and went and were replaced. As time went on, I both gained confidence as a mother and felt that confidence shatter to smithereens more times than I can count.
Motherhood has pared me down to my core. It has exposed me to myself in ways that I could never have dreamed. Both good and terrible. Over the last two years, I’ve doubted myself in more ways and more times than I care to remember.
But I can say that I also feel like I’ve made it this far and I’ve gained so much perspective that I didn’t have before. I can’t explain it, and I don’t think it would do any good to try. But I know that I can do this now. I know that even when I hit rock bottom again – and I know I can’t escape having a newborn without doing just that – it’ll be different because I know first hand now that I will rise out of it. Being a mother has taught me that.
So now he’s two (or nearly there) and he’s so amazing I still can hardly believe he’s mine sometimes. He’s beginning to understand other people and develop a sensitivity that brings me to tears (it doesn’t take much these days, but still).
Yesterday I was feeling particularly bad and he said, “Mommy feeling li’l bit nauseous?” and I said, “Yeah bunny, I’m not feeling well.” So my almost-two-year-old boy walks over and gives me a hug and a kiss and says, with his concerned little face close to mine: “All done, nauseous? Mommy feel better?”
How can I not love that kid more than anything in this world?