Last night I was talking to my husband about the day F was born. I have a hard time remembering everything that happened. What they say about mothers having labor amnesia is totally true...hence the fact that people actually voluntarily have second (or third or more...insanity!) children. In the midst of the chaos of the situation, things are a bit of a blur. There are a few moments that are indelibly etched into my brain though. Like for some reason, I was totally fixated on the fact that we'd been parked in a 10 minute loading zone for almost 2 hours and my husband HAD to move the car. If I'd only known... (We didn't get ticketed or towed, but he did move the car, at just the wrong moment...at my insistence. Sorry, honey.) I remember slight hint of panic in the generally calm and collected nurse's voice when she realized F's umbilical cord had prolapsed, the anesthesiologist holding my hand as I lay alone in the OR.
But the one thing that I will never, ever forget is waiting for what seemed like an eternity to hear my baby cry. The complete and utter heart-stopping fear I felt in that moment is indescribable. I vaguely recall someone saying that he was out and was fine, but how could I possibly believe that if I didn't actually hear him cry? It's what babies do, right? They cry. Not my kid (at first, at least). Apparently he was looking around taking it all in. He couldn't be bothered with crying...there were too many interesting things to see. But unable to see him, I waited breathlessly praying for my baby to cry. And then I finally heard him and my world was suddenly right in a way it never had been before. I didn't know one was capable of feeling as much as I felt in that moment.
When his crying jags seem overwhelming, I need to remember how much I longed to hear him cry, how a single cry turned my world upside down and right side up all at the same time (in an amazing, wonderful way). Just be careful what you wish for. ;-)
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