dear gage ~ love momma

DAY 1

 

My sweet baby boy. My little mister (you can thank your auntie for the nickname). Today is a big BIG DAY for you. Days leading up ‘til now have been surprisingly fun. You could possibly be the happiest little man I have ever met. Anyone that smiles at you causes you to jump with excitement (literally jump out my arms, dangerous really!) Every tickle results is a squeal followed by grunts and lots of laughs.

 I took the week off of work to be with you. All week we have played. We lay in bed as you stroke my face and talk to me. You have not quite learned how to be gentle. Your strokes are more like grabs and scratches. But I love it none the less. My favorite is when you manage to grab hold of my bottom lip with both little hands and yank on it, pulling my lip towards your like its something to eat. It makes me want to snuggle in your tiny, almost non-existent, neck. I like to imagine when we lay there and talk that you are telling me all your most intimate secrets. You are so smart.  I like to think you know more than we give babies credit for. You have lots of secrets. And you tell me all.

All week you have been laughing at me. You laugh when I vacuum. You laugh when I am browsing the internet. You laugh when I cook…and maybe that is worth laughing. It is such an unfamiliar place to me, and you obviously know that!

This morning in particular was fun for you. You got your strawberry pedialite at 7:11, and by 7:16 you had downed 3 ounces. However, it looked as if half of that was all over your sticky face. When I went to clean your face you smiled, followed by a giggle, like you knew you were a mess and you loved it!

 I was exhausted from lack of sleep over the last few weeks leading up to this BIG DAY. You being the sweet little mister that you are, just laid next to me in the “big bed” (mama and dadas big comfy bed) and let me sleep while you happily played by yourself.

You are my favorite little mister.

As we headed to the hospital I had several flashbacks to the day you were born. The setting was different. Today, its 10:41am, sunshin-y and beautiful. The night you were born there was a lightening storm, it was 2:05am and dark, and yet beautiful in a different way. But your dad and I drove in the little white Corolla, our family wagon, hand in hand, listening to FM 100 (love songs after dark…and before dark) in hopes to keep me calm. Your Auntie always says that there are a few really important car rides in your life that you will always remember. Today was one of them. Today we drove to the hospital exactly like we had for your very first BIG DAY into this world. I felt confident the entire drive that things were happening like they were supposed to.

Your sweet dad and grandpa gave you a blessing. They asked that your procedure go perfect. That your recovery go perfect. That the surgeons are perfect. You are prefect and you deserve the best.

As we arrive to the hospital, we met up with grandma Linda. You played with her for a moment before you were swept away. I couldn’t help but love it that you would cry when you lost sight of me. You have a way of melting my heart like no one else can. The moment you could see me again you smile. And even better, when I finally held you, you laughed.

You hated being told all the details of your procedure. At least that is what I choose to believe. It was not really happening for either of us. Doctor afterDdoctor came in to explain the risks involved, and you cried through every second. It broke my heart. Its like you were starting to understand that you were in an unfamiliar place and something was going to happen. You were not excited any longer.

 The moment we stepped out of the consultation room you immediately stopped crying. A sense of relief came over you. You were in my arms and you rested your sweet little head on my shoulder. I choked up. A lump grew in my throat. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t cry. I was still in shock. I became numb during the weeks leading up to today. I know that I was in the moment I didn’t know how to react, hence the lump. The lump in my throat that seemed to be growing as we walked closer and closer to “the doors.””The doors” that have a sign indicating that beyond this point is restricted. The doors that only have a way out and block mamas like me from running into surgery to hold our babies. “The doors” where I have to give you away, love you for the last time before you are swept away to be fixed up.

 As we approached “the  doors” your daddy and I kissed you for the last time, and handed you to Dr. Evans. If you hadn’t realized what was happening before then, it was made known to you right then and there. Your new pajamas half off, twisted to the side, you hair looking like you just woke up. You knew. Your sweet big blues eyes swole up with tears. Your bottom lip stuck out in a cute curl. You knew. You knew I would not be with you any longer and that you were going with an unfamiliar man to get your tiny little heart fixed. You were scared. That image of hopelessness is burned in my brain. I will never forget that tear that fell off my cheek watching you leave through those “big doors.”

You are my perfect little baby, with a not so perfect little heart. But it is only for a little longer little mister. Your heart will be perfect. Made perfect with titanium, and nickel. Lucky you!

The wait went surprisingly well. Lots of family and friends waiting, supporting and loving you. We laughed and kept ourselves distracted by talking about decorations, fantasy football, and grandpa’s slow and very loud texting. All of which were only  temporary distractions. The thought of you under the knife was still terrifying to us all.

A lady in green scrubs notified us of the first incision. I trailed off as she said “things are going well.”A moment of silence came over me. The noise of people watching animal planet off in the distance, the noise of our family taking in the news, the noise of a toddler crying in the hallway, all of this disappeared. It disappeared, not because I was calm. I was far from calm. In fact, I was in utter shock. That was the moment everything was real. It hit me that we were here. It hit me that you were being fixed. It hit me that this was the BIG DAY. The beginning to a new start for you.

Only a half an hour later the device was in place. And less than an hour after that, they were closing you up.

 Relief.

Finally.

 My heart was racing. I was ecstatic. You were ok. You were better than ok. You are Perfect.Your family members here may not have seen it in my expression; I was too excited to do anything but smile a small smile. They may not have heard it in my voice; I couldn’t find a lot of words to say. I sat there pretty quietly. I was taking it all in. Your Auntie even had to ask if I was happy with the news.

Little Mister, I want you to know, deep down, a chill went through my entire body. From the top of my head, down my back. A cool chill. Followed by relief. I know you are so strong. A fighter. From the time you were in my tummy and bruising ribs. Kicking the nurses when you were lying on the examining table right after you were born. You have always been a fighter. And a lover. Your sweet side is so dang sweet. You made it back to me in my arms because you love me, and I need you. I think I need you more than you need me, and you know that. I love you Little Mister. I will always love you!

 

Love you Momma!

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