June 25, 2013 § 6 Comments

It’s tough, deciding how to best introduce someone who’s changed your life forever.

Where do you start?DSC_1607The name? Stats?
Too easy.

The whole novel of how we met? Chain of events, all of the emotions, and our first introduction right there on my chest?
Maybe. But I have yet to really process that myself, everything leading up to our eyes locking for the first time, so I’m not quite sure what I’m sharing and what I’m holding sacred.

I think that is what happens with life-changing things. Surreal and traumatic, wondrous and seemingly defying the possible.
What words fit?

You understand.


This has been my dilemma. I haven’t known how to come to this space…a mom.
[Though other things have hindered my ability to post, of course. Sometimes, when you’re choosing between brushing your teeth and jumping on the blog, you just have to BRUSH YOUR TEETH BECAUSE HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN!?!?]

Hence we are now a month in (CRAZYTOWN) and you’re just now hearing from me.
Trust me, it’s been killing me, too.

Because you are overdue to meet the little one who has single-handedly overturned our prior sense of “normal” and brought us chaos, laughter, 3am, and lots of laundry.


Yes, we finally welcomed our little BOY into the world on the best Memorial Day there ever was.
And yes, if you’re counting, he was one day shy of 42 weeks.

We like to take our time, thankyouverymuch.

And I will say this: turns out he and I made a pretty good team during the whole labor and delivery thing.  Even though my bathrobe-clad self had barely shuffled into the birthing center before I spit the words “drugs” and “get this baby out” into the lap of the nurse checking us in (to which she nodded sympathetically and still slid the paperwork over the counter for me to sign when I wish it would have been a narcotic), this kid and I went unmedicated and  through five hours of pushing. In a squat.

My husband is the rockstar of all rockstars who sped through red lights and matched me breath for breath and whose gaze I trusted completely.
There’s a series I could write about him, BTW.

We had a first-rate team of midwives and nurses, women we hugged and thanked and wanted to call friends. The Lord truly gifted us with the right ladies who spoke my language and offered encouragement, sympathy, and Jello.

Ex. When I was feeling nauseous on top of having contractions and being in the most indescribable discomfort, one of the nurses sincerely agreed, “I know. It’s just not fair.” Ice water.

Team Group Health Midwifery 4Eva.


But those are just details.
It’s a story I’m both fond and proud of, the miracle of welcoming our new family member, but one that seems so distant from the story I’m now living.

So give it time.

Right now I’m wrapping my mind around what to wear every day (“what body do I have now?” and “can I nurse in that?”) and how to hold him while making a cup of coffee and why don’t I remember any lullabies and I can have wine again and making it out of the house with shoes on and can I get a smile that’s not from gas and can I get this published while he’s asleep?

AND he’s up.


§ 6 Responses to Arrival.

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