When Hendrix was a brand new beeb, teeny tiny and still swollen from birth, I never left his side. I didn't leave him with baby sitters for girls nights, or romantic escapades with my husband, or even to run to the store. I clung to him. Maybe out of fear. I don't like to admit weakness but ill own up to it. I was terrified. Frantic to stay close. To burrow up with my little baby bear. Hibernate.
It took me months to feel comfortable enough to even think about venturing out.
On New Years I left him to attend a party. He napped as I said goodbye and left him soundly sleeping in his lambie swing.
As I drove away from the house and pulled up to the stop sign I froze. Foot firmly planted on the brake. My home looming in the rear view mirror. Pink siding and picket fence . Front porch and white shutters. Once comforts, now seemed so lonely and large. What would my sweet boy think when he woke up and I was no longer there? Would the place that had been filled with happiness and baby smiles now be cold and empty?
Home is where the heart is.
What if the heart had taken off ? For auld lang syne and champagne kisses at midnight. Fancy dresses and hor dourves. Hotel keys and mini bars.
What would the baby think?
Would he cry? Would he feel abandoned?
Does he know the difference between a few hours or forever and ever?
I cried at that stop sign. With the snow falling around me. I cried into my hair. My hands on the steering wheel. Faux eyelashes tickling my cheeks.
I cried because I would miss him.
I cried because I would worry about him.
I cried because I knew it wasn't healthy to be so upset over a few hours away.
I cried because it was NOT fair that fear had been struck so deep into my heart on the day he was born that I couldn't even have a night out without being panicked.
and it wasn't.
Fair, that is.
and it won't ever be.
But instead of pondering life and its unfairness I picked that foot up and planted it on the gas pedal.
and I drove.
My heart heavy with guilt. and throbbing with sorrow.and embarrassment.
because its silly to cry at stop signs when life isn't fair.
And I danced that night. I danced and loved and played.
and when the ball dropped I counted down.
Counted my way to a new year. filled with hope and a bright future.
not hospital rooms and de-saturations.
and I stopped feeling sorry for myself and my child and I was thankful.
That we are together now. That we have love in our home. and in our hearts.
I drove home. By myself. To my child.
I was an adult. a Parent. A mother.
Driving home with her breathe blowing smokey clouds
in a cold car on the first day of the new year.
With the music playing quietly in the background.
Feet aching and fingers numb.
When I arrived to a peacefully sleeping Hendrix and good reports from babysitters the relief was huge. The pride that I hadn't let my fear take hold filled my chest.
I will not let life's unfairness capture me, its prisoner.
We will move forward.
and now months later. My Newborn to an Infant to a bubbling Baby. I kiss him goodbye and I walk out the door. and it is bittersweet because leaving him never feels good
but
what
could
ever
replace the feeling off walking in, hours later, to a baby who smiles so wide when he sees that you have come back.
Kicking feet. Squealing mouth. Arms stretched towards you.
It is a joy I can not describe
or explain.
it can not be duplicated
or replicated.
Sometimes life just happens. Growth seeps in slowly through the cracks and one day you are no longer a girl. But a women. A Mother. One who doesn't call for help but is the helper. One who picks her foot up and drives forward when whats in front of her scares her silly.
