Those first days of your first childs life. They are devoid of time… You float off into your own small little universe. Just you, baby, and papa.
We had a c-section after a grueling 36 hours of labor. I stayed in the hospital for 3 days but it felt like an eternity. There were people- always, people. The nurses, my family, the guy cleaning up the dinner trays. When Ford would go to work, I’d be alone. I knew Thaddeus so well already. I knew he had a fighters spirit and a lovers heart. Every inch of his soul was good.
When I finally got home, my mother-in-law came over every day for a week. She did the laundry, and the dishes, and changed Thaddeus’s diaper. And I breastfed. That was all I did because it was all I could do. It took up so much damn time. I felt like such an awful person when I just wanted to let him cry because I couldn’t stand pulling up my shirt one more time. And when she left, my mother came for a week. It wasn’t until Thaddeus was 3 weeks old that I finally knew what it was like to be alone with him. Really, truly alone. It was so terrible and so wonderful. There is nothing harder than being a mother for the first time and having no clue how and no energy to soothe your baby. But at the same time, when I was finally alone, I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever I did, would be okay. I had no one to which I had to turn and ask if I was doing it right. Whatever I did… It would have to be right. There was no alternative. And that is when I finally realized that I had known all along. Through all my doubts and tears and failures, I had this knowledge built into my bones, just waiting to be beackoned. I was waiting for the birth, the birth of the mother in me.