When I First Met You
Each afternoon is played out exactly the same – he lunges in through the side door kicking off his running shoes, his ball cap gets tossed on the island, then he scurries through the kitchen as he drops his pants before he makes it to the privacy of the bathroom. I hear two feet stomp at attention and then the toilet lid is thrown open.
“Momma, I’m going pee not poop!” my kid announces.
And there I am, just as always, still standing at the side door with my hand on the key turned in the lock.
By the time I had removed his lunch box from his schoolbag and washed out whatever ungodly sludge was stuck to the bottom of it, Chunky was already dressed in his “after school” clothes and a snack was stuffed in the sides of both cheeks.
“You haff homework Momma,” he mumbled with his mouth full as he handed me his agenda book.
I opened the book and saw the white letter that was neatly folded in the front pouch. I laid it out on the counter and smoothed out the crease. At the top it read “Mom Interview” and I smiled.
“You have to interview me?” I asked.
“No, it’s for you to do. It’s my birthday story and I don’t remember it. That’s gross baby stuff Momma!” he sassed.
The interview was nothing more than a series of quick fill in the blanks that I figured I could complete while the dinner was cooking in the oven.
But I got stuck here —
When I first saw you, I felt ________________
I felt nothing.
Chunky, when you were born, you were absolutely perfect in every which way; your fingers, your long legs, your beautiful curled black lashes, and the way you pursed your pink lips when I dragged my finger from the tip of your earlobe and all the way down your jawline.
I couldn’t believe that it was you that had kicked my insides, hiccupped at 2.00 am, listened to my bad singing in the car, ate pasta sauce out of the jar because we could, turned my round belly into a circus sideshow when you repositioned yourself, performed pregnancy yoga, and then watched the pregnancy yoga DVD while eating ice cream because we had priorities. It was you who was a part of me for nine entire months and I was finally holding you, and meeting you, and I was supposed to feel something spectacular.
And people, friends, family, nurses, the pediatrician, our family doctor — they all looked at me differently. They all expected to see me feel that something too.
They wanted to see me explode with happiness.
But sweetheart, I was sick. There were ugly, horrible, terrible, mean feelings that I had and I hope and pray that you never have to experience.
Even though I didn’t feel it then, I found out though that before you were born, your soul was doing something so amazing. While it was busy helping you grow, and it was busy helping Momma too.
It was working on filling all the cracks in my heart.
And so when you were born, it was the day you had finished filling the last one.
Anxiety, anger, depression — those evil feelings couldn’t infect my heart because you sealed it.
You protected my heart.
You saved me then and have every single day after.
Your love is my anchor.
I used to say that I would give anything to experience what other moms do when they hold their child for the first time, but I don’t anymore because every day I get to experience what it’s like to feel your heart explode with love for something so amazing.
Every day I wake up and I see you.
I love you to the moon and all the way back.
Head to the Family Room
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This post was syndicated with permission to BonBon Break Media, LLC.