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A blizzard was settling into the region as we drove to the hospital early that Tuesday morning. No snow had stuck yet, but it was swirling with the feisty wind and knew it was forecasted to get worse. I was just anxious to get this induction started, and happy at the thought that our son might be born while it was snowing.
We arrived, and everything was ready for us. We were ready. The standard hospital gown was donned and IV's inserted, along with the million questions that are repeatedly answered even though the previous nurse/doctor/intern/student just asked all the same questions. We knew the drill. We just hoped this time turned out differently.
The nurses and doctors didn't minimize our previous birth experience, except for one anesthesiologist resident who loudly answered for me that this was our first child after the "is this your first?" question was asked (despite knowing about our stillbirth). I wanted to ask her what my previous epidural was given for then? A non-child? A mass of cells that just happened to be perfectly formed and all around healthy except for the failure of my placenta? I ignored her though and kept my brain focused on hopefulness.
All went well. I didn't dilate as quickly as everyone expected after given the pitocin. It was only after they broke my water that I went from 5cm to 10cm in one hour and gave three sets of pushes and he was there. It was rather quiet when he was born...he wasn't a screamer. I kept asking L if Simon was ok.
They cleaned him up and passed him off to us. He was here. And he was alive. And it was as if he had been a part of our family all along. Not that he was a new member, but he just fit in. It was normal for him to be here. Granted, we had/still have no clue what we're doing half the time and are learning so much. But he just is a part of us, and it shouldn't be any other way.
Except for his big sister. That should be different, and she should be here too. But it is what it is. We're glad for his little life, and yet miss what we should have had with her. I'm still holding off on "feeling". I'm not ready to unleash all the emotions yet. As so many other women have experienced, I need to figure out how to parent him, while still working through my grief for her.
Simon's already lived through two snow storms in the 11 days he's been with us. Today it's sunny and it's warming up for the weekend...it's all melting and giving everyone a sign of what to look forward to with spring. It's a sign of hope for growth and color and freshness. We experience that with Simon already, but know he will continue to grow and look forward to finding out more of his personality. And for my own growth...as a mom to a live child....as mom to a dead child....as a wife...as an artist. But ultimately I still can only take a day at a time. And for now, I'm enjoying the cuddles and faces that this little boy brings.
