Day 2
I will be completely honest, the first time I saw you after surgery you were so naked. I don’t mean the literal translation of the word. I mean naked, like you were missing something. All the IVs and chest tubes and wires had stripped you of your comfort. All the fluids and morphine had stripped you of your cute personality. You were naked. You would wake up only to cry and immediately fall asleep. You were in pain. It hurt to watch. It was clear that you didn’t know where you were or what had just happened.
For one brief moment, a split second, you opened your eyes and curled one side of your mouth as you stared me in the eyes. That second, that teeny tiny second lasted a lifetime. You saw me. You loved me. You re-assured me that everything was ok Momma. You said everything you needed to say in that little curl of a smile. It was perfect.
Those big fancy doctors seem concerned at how pale you look, your dad and I laugh, you have always been pasty! But then again we are pasty. Sorry little buddy, you got that from us! Unfortunately you were too pasty for the doctors to just let it go. They started your blood transfusion. They pumped blood into your tiny little neck. Good news, you have O+ blood just like your momma! Your grandpa says you get it from him (we will argue about that later), and you’re lucky. He chooses to believe that O+ blood is a naturally occurring steroid. It must be, after all grandpa and you are both so big and tough!
A nurse was concerned that you were grunting a lot. We tried to explain that you ALWAYS grunt. I can distinctly remember when you were born you cried for five minutes straight on that examining table, and the moment they put you in my arms you were calm. There I was. I was holding you tight again. From that point forward until you were nearly two and a half months, you never cried again, you simply grunted. Your way of communicating was grunting! It always has been. If you were hungry, you grunted. If you were tired you grunted. If you were dreaming, you would grunt. My favorite grunt of all is when you were pooping (must be a mom thing, but I LOVE IT). You would be as quiet as can be, and from across the house I could hear a ferocious little grunt coming out of my tiny little mister. I would come running, positive that you pushed so hard that I would find a huge mess, or my couch destroyed. But every time, I was wrong. It was never a mess. You just loved to grunt!
Through the night they attempted to give you a pacifier to ease your pain and discomfort. You wouldn’t have it. They tried and tried, but every time it went in, you simply would push it out. It was hours later that they discovered “your” binky. They attempted for one last time to give you “your” binky. And you loved it. You have always been stubborn. You know exactly what you want, just like me! It’s the one thing I can honestly say you got from me. You are your daddy’s little boy. You always get what you want (we can’t help it!) When mommy is eating, you want to eat. When daddy is playing with the ipod you want to play. When daddy tries to give you the blackberry instead, you look at it, throw it, and go straight for the ipod again. You always know what you want! And you wanted “your” binky.
I got a call this morning that you had started eating normal food, and by normal food I mean formula. Its not normal by any means to me, it stinks! I can’t stand the smell! But it makes you happy. They say you are a good eater, and then they re-emphasized that you are a VERY GOOD eater! Again you take after your daddy! You have always had a way of getting my food when I was not looking. Just the other day we were eating spaghetti. The moment I looked away you managed to shove your entire teeny fist into my spaghetti sauce and rub it around. When I caught you, it was too late! You had mushed that saucy little hand all over your precious little face! You love being with us, and doing what we are doing. You love big kid food. But mommy isn’t quite ready to let go of the bad smelling formula and let you eat what I am eating. I am not ready for you to sit anywhere other than in my arms to eat. Mommy isn’t ready for you to try and hold your own bottle. So much of you wants to grow up, but I want you to stay my perfect little mister. I don’t want to put away any more clothes. I don’t want you to you grow up, not yet. I need you to stay my cuddly little mister for now, ‘til I am ready for you to move on!
The doctors say you are doing great. Your recovery has been so smooth. It’s good to know you are in good hands. You woke up crying as you saw nurse Cindy. I would have cried too if I was as tiny as you. She is a 6’3 woman with blonde hair and glasses. To you she must have been a giant. But, little mister, she is as sweet as can be. She will take care of you when I step away. I will be back, I will always come back. You need to remember that this is just like nap time, its scary at first, but I always come and rescue you from those nightmares. So sleep tight when I am gone and dream sweet dreams.
love,
your momma
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