Tuesday, March 15, 2011

no one told me there would be tears









I am not a crier.

But there's something about this little being that has cracked me open and what was revealed within were tears I didn't know I had.

The moment when Micah came headfirst into the world was anticlimactic. After laboring for almost 24 hours and pushing for 2, I was exhausted. One push before he came my doctor told me, "Jess, he'll be here with your next contraction."

Then someone walked into my room. A new nurse and she asked me something or introduced herself or something because before I knew it, I was momentarily distracted and a minute later my doctor was asking me if I was having another contraction (the beauty of an epidural!)

Before I could get the words, "I think I am." out of my mouth, he slipped out of me.

I mean, seriously. No last, final, teeth-bearing push was necessary. It was incredible. The hardest work had already been done the previous contraction and we were all witness of what happens when the body takes over and does what it's supposed to do.

When he came out they "threw" him on my bare chest. I would say they gently layed him there, but it really wasn't that  graceful. In that moment tears stung my eyes. This was the beginning of motherhood in the realest sense.

I looked at Curtis who was visibly moved at that point and before a tear could run down my cheek, his little baby arm, covered in vernix reached out and slapped me straight in the eye.

In that moment of deep-bellied emotion, he brought laughter (and a plea for someone to give me something to wipe my eye.)

I write this now, at 1:02am on Tuesday morning. Micah is swaddled and asleep laying on my chest after a feeding that left him breathing heavy.

Curtis is sleeping next to me with earplugs in, snoring rhythmically.
The tv is on nearly silently, mostly for the glow and to keep me awake until he falls fast enoughasleep to place him back into the basinette.

It is a good night. There have been no tears, unlike last night.

Tonight I nursed at 8 and then Curtis took the baby so I could try to get a couple hours of sleep before the night really began. He ended up bringing a sleeping baby up at 10 and he miraculously slept (and so did I) until midnight.

Last night was a very different picture.
Micah cried from his 8pm feeding until 3:30am. It was miserable. He was gassy and grumpy and inconsolable. At 3am, after trying to soothe him for hours, I put him in his swing (which i had brought up to his room so i wouldnt have to sleep on the couch) still sobbing and crawled into bed and started sobbing myself.

I felt helpless, exhausted and alone as I was trying not to disturb Curtis.

Even through earplugs he heard me and without me needing to ask, he got up, tied on his robe and calmly took over. Even my guilt of knowing he was loosing sleep on a worknight was eclipsed by my utter exhaustion as he gave me a tissue and told me to go to sleep - which I did.

I don't know how long he was up, but I know we both woke up at 7:30am (almost two hours late for him) and again I was ready to start a new day.

Tears aren't always necessary, but sometimes they are just the thing that's needed.

Tonight no tears are needed. I'm giving up precious sleep time to write this because I want to remember.

Remember how it felt to feel so raw with emotions that were stagnant, or maybe not even present in the first place.

I would give up anything for these two boys next to me. Sleep. sanity. anything.

And I will cry hot, plump tears again, no doubt. I think it's inevitable when you love something so much, it breaks you, and let's all your loose ends hanging out like live wires.


Kathy said...

This post -- so moving. Love it.

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