If you look back over my blog for 2010-2011 you'll note that I didn't write much down. I honestly didn't want to record my feelings or thoughts from that pregnancy lest one of the kids read some day in the future. Their therapy will already be costly enough. I kicked and dragged my feet as long and as hard as I could through those nine months. Sullen. Sad. Annoyed. Embarrassed. Scared. And, on top of all of that, ashamed, that I had any of those feelings.
But then he was born. We went to the Sun to give birth to him--no, wait, it was the HOTTEST day of my life. Except for not wanting to be there, the entire experience was simple and straight forward. He was born via c-section the morning of July 20th. Screaming away, he came out peeing. Yes, peeing. My first memory of LP is a steam of urine shooting out of him, and nurses laughing. When a nurse went to write down his stats she recorded 4 pee streams. I remember her calling out whether that was "four or five?" My son. So proud. Forget Apgar scores, how many pees did your kid have?
My Husband had to repeat to me over and over that he looked fine. I kept whispering to my Husband that his nose looked odd and he might have Downs Syndrome. Now, I'm not kidding. A rush of the anxiety and statistics that had surrounded my doctor appointments washed over me and I had to run down each scenario. LP didn't want to hear it and decided to take a funny breath--due to odd chest sounds he was whisked away with my Husband. He just wanted to get away for a while--he was fine.
After that short departure, he would not want to leave my side for the next...well, nine months.
LP would not stay in the nursery. Or rather, due to his high, ear piercing cry/squeal/screech, the nurses did not want him IN the nursery. LP was also a very sleepy eater. A few gulps of milk and he'd fall asleep. He wouldn't be full, but he'd fall asleep. I would think that maybe I could sleep too, so I'd send him down to the nursery. I'd fall asleep for about 10 minutes and I'd hear this distinct cry coming back down the hallway. "He wants his Mommy." some well meaning nurse would sing-song as she plopped him back into my arms.
Then we'd try it all over again. Hour, after hospital, hour.
I know why I didn't just cave and sit there with him. I was in pain. I was tired. I didn't want to drop him out of bed when I dozed off. I had some of my own bodily issues going on. I knew these few days were the only ones I would ever again have with just one child. I figured the nurses might be on MY side. Not so.
Screaming LP made noise all the way out of the hospital. I remember sitting in the hospital atrium with a nurse and LP as Husband went to get the car. I couldn't get LP to stop crying and he needed to stay in his car seat, so he just cried harder and harder. The look on her face was priceless--a mix of forced pleasantness and glazed over, "I'm going to my happy place." He stopped the minute we pulled away from the hospital parking lot. Which, ironically would be the only quiet drive he'd make for the next few months.
His arrival into our home was the stuff of movies. He silently entered the house. His brother and sister gently and calmly (albeit giddily) gave him hugs and kisses. We took him out of his car seat and he snuggled up to his Dad. Due to wisdom, and Motherhood Maturity, I made up a bottle of formula for LP. It would be his only bottle of formula as I also set up the (awful) pump. Tummy full, he settled into life.
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Nine months have passed since I met him. He's charmed me and everyone else he has met along the way. He delights in making people laugh. Has a quick smile. He still pees big, bold streams of pee if the diaper is left off too long during a change. Delighting in the reaction each time. He loves his brother and sister. He can not be left alone--honestly, because we don't want to, and because he starts to cry. The horrid screech went away after a few months. He never did get the hang of breast feeding. The slow pace of it made him fall asleep in the early months--when I didn't have time to sit there for hours on end--and once he out grew the sleepy phase, the pace frustrated him. He's had a bottle for most feedings ever since. (more on nine months of pumping once the horror is over.) Right now he's crawling as fast as he can to keep up. He enjoys feeding himself and promises he'll sleep longer than six hours at a stretch...sometime very, very, soon.
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