The Last First Time

The Last First Time

The last first time. Since you were born - if not before - I have been going through a period of mourning. This isn't a bad thing. Grief in its truest form sheds layers from your heart and soul - often times leaving you more empathetic and human than you were prior. For example, since I found out I was pregnant with you I have been purging "stuff." Stuff that I had been holding onto because it
reminded me of another time in my life - another love, another moment. When I chose to hold onto these items - a wedding planning book, a box of purses, photos, a dress, a scarf - I must of thought I would return to that moment with those items. But with you - you allowed me to shed those layers. Nothing feels as good as hauling out years of "holding on" in preparation for something new.

I loved being pregnant with you. 

I digress. Mourning. Grief. It started when I neared the end of my pregnancy with you. I LOVED being pregnant with you, and I was going to miss it. I loved my belly. Loved feeling you move like a wave across it. Watching you in the tub, feeling you at night, learning your pattern. So I worked very hard to cherish each day that I got to have you so close - where I knew you were warm, protected and cozy. I knew that, while I was pregnant with you, you could not feel hunger, pain, fear - and that the simple act of eating eggs each day or of talking with your Dad helped your development. I think that is why when you were born, and had to be in the NICU right away - I grieved your pain even more. I had spent so much time in thought about how protected you were inside my belly, that I felt cruel allowing strangers to poke you, touch you with cold hands or take you away from me. This is too, why I questioned our decision to circumcise you - it didn't make sense to cause undo harm when for so long I - we - had protected you. It was my first lesson in parenting - that I don't have the control - and that you will get hurt. It is my job to reassure you, love on you, and continue preparing for your future - and do what is hard for your best interest. Funny - once you were born - not until I'm writing this very post - have I even thought about missing being pregnant. It's true - I had a baby so I didn't miss being pregnant anymore. I knew the last week I was pregnant that I was ready to meet you - you were healthy enough to be born and it was okay to NOT BE PREGNANT anymore - so that helped too.

You were born at 7:05 p.m. on a Saturday -
 without making a sound - only watching your world. 

You are my last first baby.  I will never have those 12 weeks back that  I spent with you all to myself. Well, I did share them with your Dad, Grandma and Aunt Jodie - among other visitors and trips we took. But I relished in our lazy days together when we would sleep from 7 a.m. to 9:00 or 9:30. When I would rock you, sleep with you on my chest or simply take a video of you looking at your world. I loved the cozy first nights at home with you with the snow outside coating the streets, the fire place on, and Grandma, Dad and I taking turns cuddling with you. The house was quiet in those first few weeks - aside from your occasional cries in hunger. The next time we have a baby - if that is what happens for our life - you will be here for the adventure - most likely toddling around, making noise and participating in the event.

There are parts of our home that will forever mark your first week home: the little bottle of dish soap and a towel on the hallway dresser where I would wash out your bottle and my pump parts, the floral cup that your Dad heated your bottle in, the moses basket that rocked by the fire place, and the smell of your bassinet next to our bed. Cutting off your bracelet, waiting for your belly button to fall off, and relishing in your soft new hair. My Mom rocking you in the early morning sunlight - the three of us taking shifts of rocking, warming food, watching movies and just soaking in all of you - as it snowed outside.
Today I have put the bassinet away, the moses basket now holds your stuffed animals, and the burp cloths that I was so particular about - sit neatly and unused in a drawer.

Forever I dreamed of this moment - and forever I will remember -
how you feel, how you smell - and the calm that was this moment.
12-27-14

My hands will always remember how your head felt when you were born - the shape, the wet hair. I remember the smell and how I was almost sad when they bathed you.  In a matter of moments after you were born, you started to grow away from me. 

Mother's Day 2014
We knew you were on your way for 2 weeks.

My last first Mother's Day. For years, I have been diligent about sending the women in my life a Mother's Day Card. Carlette, Carol Pashman, Aunts, Cousins, Grandmothers and Mom - of course. this year, between work and you - I did well to get Mother's Day cards for Aunt Jodie, Grandma and GG Bonnie. Even for Grandma Kit - I was late. AND I didn't send one to Aunt Kate - who - ever since Lucy was born - always sends me an Aunt or Godmother card - which always brings me to tears. I did manage to have cookies delivered to her… next year I will be better about the cards. Anyway, this year the Mother's Day wishes were for me, from the women in my life that I love: Robin, Aunt Jodie, Kate, Shanti, and even Heather P. Your Dad arranged to have flowers delivered from you and it was sweet. We had spent Saturday doing our Mother's Day celebration with GG Bonnie - which meant more than anything. On Sunday your Dad grilled steaks and we celebrated. One year ago, we had just discovered we were pregnant with you - and secretly enjoyed brunch at the Embassy with friends and family - all the while knowing that our world was going to change within the year. I love to think that in a few years I will have hand made art from you and your words - if you are like me - will be the best gifts ever. Words of appreciation, affection - and I'm sure constructive criticism - are the love language spoken best to me. And flowers - always flowers.

So Motherhood - along with pregnancy - is a lot of last firsts. My last first Mother's Day. My last first Maternity Leave. My last first pregnancy. My last first baby. Baby Harlan.