Maybe it's the same when you're giving birth; I don't know.
My arms were suddenly hyper-aware of their emptiness. So many questions about the one who would fill them constantly ran through my head. I found sleep in little bursts.
And then it was time.
It had been raining all night, so the streets were almost flooded, but it was only drizzling when we left. We took a cab ride through the grey city streets, and all I could only think about seeing him for the first time. Would I recognize him? Would he cry? Would a nanny hover over us?
The cab pulled up to a nice little two story building. It was fenced in with a playground in the front. This was it. My son was here.
I focused my nervousness on avoiding puddles as we walked in the gate, then the front door. We were greeted by a friendly woman, who took us to the adjacent building. Again, puddles.
We walked into a room where I saw three or four children, older children. One girl rolled up to me in her wheelchair and pulled on my backpack strap. I smiled at her as I scanned the room.
The friendly lady reached down into a pack and play I had not noticed before. She pulled out a tiny little boy in a blue track suit. I saw his blonde hair and knew it was him. As she put him onto her hip, I smiled and reached for him, more out of instinct than conscious movement.
And he reached out his tiny arms for me.
I held him for the first time and stroked his hair. He was so small and so perfect and so mine. I felt him in my heart. My son.
We were whisked away into a play room where a nurse was eager for me to see his skills. He walks. He can climb out of the ball pit. He loves to clap his hands.
I oohed and aahed at each accomplishment, but really, he could have done none of that and still been just as much mine. Every time he was out of my arms, he tottered back to me. When someone else held him, he stretched out for me.
I think he knew I was his.
This morning was a joyful blur.
Here's what I learned:
He is a cuddle bug. Hands are his favorite; clapping his hands in front of his face, holding onto my hands - the best. He loves when I put my hands on the side of his face or stroke his cheeks. Running away and being scooped up. Kissing his picture in the photo album I brought. Blowing spit bubbles. Eating (I fed him three times!).
Toys are not his thing right now. (Note to self, stop buying toys.) I think this will improve with time, but right now, toys are used to hit himself or stick all the way in the mouth - sorry Friday the Sloth. The one exception were little plastic rings that you connect together. So fun to shaaaaaaake.
I noticed some breathing trouble. The nurse mentioned the rainy weather, but I am worried it is more than that. Definitely a priority when we get home.
Basically, he is perfect. All of my fears and doubts vanished as soon as he was in my arms. We have a lot of learning to do together. No question. But we will do it together.
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| Worth Allen Maximus |
