TruMama

I like the number 10.   I wish things were in increments of 10, so I’m celebrating your 10 month birthday.  It has been an unbelievable 10 months.  You have grown and changed so fast.  I remember the night I felt you making your way out of me.  It was 2 a.m. and your dad had just crawled into bed after cleaning his warehouse with your Aunt Donna.  I told him I thought you were coming.  I laid in bed and counted the minutes between contractions.  I was so hoping I was right.  I was so ready to meet you.  I loved being pregnant with you…feeling you grow, feeling you move, just having you in my belly.  I would read books to you, talk to you, play music for you, rub my belly and hope you’d feel my touch.  Get to know my touch.  As much as I loved knowing that I was growing something and giving life to something, I was ready to hold you in my arms.  So, when another contraction came, I quick nudged your dad and said I was sure you were coming.  We were very calm and quiet.  I remember riding in the car thinking the next time I rode in the car, I’d be going home with you.  The next hours seemed to happen in slow-motion.  I think I slept.  I can’t remember, but at 7 a.m. you must have laid on a nerve.  I bolted out of bed and for the next 2 hours I couldn’t relax a muscle, couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t be still, but because of monitors I had to stay in the bed.  I couldn’t find relief.  I cried.  I squirmed.  I begged for an epidural.  The guy came in at 9 a.m. with it.  I was screaming and all but climbing the walls.  Within seconds my entire body went limp.  I was able to lay back and be peaceful for you.  The next thing I know I’m being told to push.  I push and push and push and finally (3 hours later) you’re in front of me.  Right before my eyes.  I can’t focus.  Everything is blurry, but I know it’s you.  Beautiful you.  I watch as they clean you.  I want you in my arms.  I’m patient.  Remembering to breathe.  Long deep breaths.  Finally, I’m holding you.  It was like I already knew you.  Warm.  Soft.  Tiny.  Beautiful.  I can’t believe I made you.  I’m in awe of you.  I rub my fingers across your cheeks.  Up and down your perfect little nose.  I shield the light from your eyes because it’s making you mad.  I feel my heart grow.  I feel my chest swell.  I feel like I’m going to burst.  I don’t let go of you.  I hold you and look at you all night long.  You’ve been inside me for 9 months; I’m not ready for you to be anywhere that’s not attached to me.  So we lay together.  For at least 2 weeks I don’t sleep.  Too scared to close my eyes.  Now you’re out in the world and not protected by the womb.  I want to protect you.  Every day I talk to you and sing to you and you cast a spell over me.  I look at you and cry and laugh at the same time because I’m happier than I’ve ever dreamed possible.  I whisper to you and you look at me like you are studying me.  I’m a thinker too.  Soon, we’ll look and study things together.  Figure things out.  I wonder what you are thinking.  What secrets do you have?  Our days are spent with me being amazed by everything you do.  I love the little sounds you make when you sleep.  I love your little grin.  I love the tickle of your soft hair as I rub my cheeks across your head.  I love the velvety feel of the bottoms of your feet and how you try to curl your toes around my finger.

My favorite time is holding you next to me as you drift off to sleep.  I do it every night.  I should put you in your crib, but I don’t want to.  You’ll be big soon and I won’t be able to hold you.  I love this time together.  Your head on my shoulder.  Your eyes close shut.  I feel you breathe soft and slow.  We are peaceful and you slip into a dream.  I wish I could go with you.  I hold you a little longer just because I want to remember this moment.  I feel sad as I walk away from your crib.  When you wake in the middle of the night for a bottle, I know I get a few more minutes with you before I have to go to work.  It’s you and me while the rest of the world sleeps.  You are my world.  Your crib is still by my bed.  I like it there.  I guess I just still want you as close to me as possible.  I love being able to open my eyes and you are right there.  I peek over and look at you while you sleep and I smile.  I want to touch you, but you are so peaceful.  My dreaming boy.  One day you’ll want your own room and you’ll close your door.  You won’t want mom peeking in on you.

You are my thoughts and my dreams.  At work, I have pictures of you all over the room because I want to be able to see you no matter where I am.  I talk about you to everyone who will listen.  I rush home to get you.  You are my heartbeat.  You are my smile.  When I was sick I sat down and started to cry because I was tired of coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose.  You rolled up in your walker and looked at me very serious, as if concerned.  I immediately started laughing and so did you.  Your happiness means so much more than mine does.  My life means more now because of you.  It’s been 10 months, but I feel like I’ve had you forever.  I can’t remember a time without you.  You are my memories and you are my future.

I love you.

Mommy