Michael was born at 6:52 pm on July 1. In Cincinnati, Ohio. (Where, according to Michael, there are really tall buildings. And hot dog vendors.) Mine was a difficult pregnancy. So he was to be induced. To better watch both of us.
I checked into the hospital the night before. Where I was unable to get up from the bed. And was not able to eat or drink anything after midnight. Only ice chips for me.
That night was a mix of emotion. Excitement. For this new little bundle of boy-ness to come into my life. Terror. At the thought that I was about to be a mother ( I seriously considered asking if we could just wait a week. I'd come back much better prepared. Right?) Anxiousness. About Michael's little heart. What it would take in the beginning to keep it beating. To stabilize him. What the plan would be for the next week. The next month. The next year.
That night. I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn't sleep - partially because it was my first overnight in a hospital and I was terrified that I would pull the IV out - and partially because of the overwhelming emotions I was experiencing.
I was meeting my little boy. For the very first time. He had been a part of me for 9 months. I took him on Mommy-Fetus night outs. We'd go to the movies and eat ice cream and popcorn. (See how Michael's love for movies started out in the womb? He would say that he peeked through my belly button and ate the crumbs from my ice cream and popcorn.)
The next day would be my very first time seeing his face. And to touch his skin. And to hold his hand. And to make guesses about who he looked the most like. To hold him. and smooch him. And rock him to sleep.
That night. Was a rough one.
This night. Will be a rough one.
For very different reasons. This is the night where I will only have memories, pictures to see Michael's face. This is the night where I will only have memories of Michael's skin. This is the night where I will only be able to touch his marker. To blow kisses to the wind.
I will be a bundle of emotions again. Just like I was 10 years ago. Only with no great reward at the end for the long journey through labor. I will not be joined in the excitement of my beautiful boy's arrival into this world.
I will be joined in sadness at the departure of my beautiful boy. From this world.
The birthday countdown continues.
I just want the world to stop spinning.
So I can catch my breath...