The Little One
The Little One arrived in July. We had chosen to be surprised about the sex of the baby. After 18 hours of labor and falling asleep between pushes, I finally heard my husband exclaim with awe and wonder in his voice, “Oh my God, its a baby.” Ok, well, I knew that part. And then, finally, “It’s a boy.” After what seemed like an eternity of silence, my little boy started screaming. And screaming. First relief. They put him on my chest and I was crying and laughing with tears of absolute joy. And he still screamed. And then panic set in when I realized I had no idea how to make him stop. And then I started talking to him. I told him that we had waited for him for so long and were so happy to finally meet him. I told him we loved him and that it was all right. And somehow in the midst of all this, he heard my voice and looked into my eyes and I swear it was like he recognized me. It was a moment of oh there you are and as though he felt relief, that he knew he was safe and home. He grabbed onto my finger and it was the single greatest moment of my life. For the first several weeks I was so intoxicated with him. I just wanted to touch him and smell him and hold him. And now he smiles. And my heart stops every time. Every single time. It is the best thing I have ever felt. And so with that, I have become that person whose whole life is her baby with nothing else to talk about. So cliche, and there is a reason why it’s cliche. Because nothing else matters.
