oh, baby
8lbs., 15oz., 22 1/2 inches long he was a big boy. 12:10am, july 27, 2004 i stopped pushing because, finally, he was here. and blue. a big blue moose of a baby. a slippery, bruised, wet, wrinkled baby.
1:30pm the previous afternoon i walked with her to the library and listened to her tell me all about her reading experiences and why she liked interacting with the librarians. i marvelled at her intellect...something i constantly take for granted. 2:10pm i left the library alone because she wanted to watch some movies. 3:10pm i returned to library aching from the contractions that threatened to bowl me over as i struggled to walk to the bank and back. 4:00pm he rubbed my back and saw the hurt in my eyes and coaxed me into the bathtub. 4:40pm after timing the contractions, he dialed the number for the birth center, and she told me it was time to come. 6:00pm at the birth center, 3cm dilated, 90% effaced she told us to go eat dinner, that the baby wasn't ready. it wasn't time yet. he walked me to the restaurant, holding my hand and talking comfortingly to me the entire way. he sat with me at the table, spilled his water over the table and laughed at my annoyance with the waitress, then cracked jokes to make me laugh in return. he had lobster ravioli and garlic bread. and he was so handsome. and perfect. 8:00pm 4-5cm dilated, still not ready, she sent us for a walk and to pick up diet coke. she saw a snake writhing along the curb and startled and squirmed almost the way she did sitting on their porch when he threw fireflies into her hair. i worried that the snake would not make it onto the sidewalk, that his wiry, striped body would end up mashed beneath the tires of a car. in wawa, i nearly lost it on a woman for not walking around me to access the mac machine. she should not have asked me to move. 9:30pm we decided she should break my water. the contractions were coming, but....like the weeks of contractions before them...were not as effective as they might have been. 10:00pm he sat beside me and held onto me and murmured comfort in my ear as she inserted the massive crochet hook and the warm pool formed beneath me. he held me in the bathtub as i ached and squirmed and moaned. he helped me on the toilet as i ached and squirmed and moaned. he held me in his arms as i hung on him and moaned. he supported me in the shower as i ached and squirmed and moaned. he rubbed me and hugged me and smoothed me and calmed me and sat behind me, holding me, patting me, helping me as i pushed and yellled and grunted and howled and pushed and pushed some more. 12:10am the burning stopped. the pressure disappeared. he fell from my gaping vagina. she set his blue body in my open arms. my legs shook furiously beneath him. the seconds that i had him in my arms, that i sat looking down into his little blue snuffling face lasted forever. he wasn't crying. he wasn't upset. he was big and wet and staring right at me.
then he was theirs. then my role was done.
she delivered the placenta and he held me more and helped me more and loved me more than i ever thought anyone would or could. he cried in the other room. he was wrapped and weighed and measured in the other room. they disappeared. but he was there to hold me. and i needed him more than i've ever needed anyone. i can't believe they ever thought it would be all right to take that away from me. if he had not been there, i wouldn't have made it. he was so strong, so calm, so perfect for me every second of the labor. he slept beside me, holding me, talking softly to me as we both drifted blurrily to sleep. he woke beside me, looked into my eyes, helped me to the bathroom, held me, diapered me, understood me. he lifted me, brought me coffee and bagels. played outkast as we left the birth center. rubbed my back and talked to me. understood.
and in the days that followed, he took such amazing care of me. and of her. and of everything. he is my rock.
and i want to have his babies. this is such an odd trial. a dry-run of ?
yesterday, today, tomorrow, three weeks ago i want to be his wife.
he says he wants to be my husband, too.
someday. someday.
not right now his words have echoed for nearly three months. not right now.
today, he's gone. and his absence penetrated me from the moment i opened my eyes. i am helpless without him here. i became so dependent on his care. i need him so much in so many subtle ways. i can't handle waking up without him. i can't handle taking care of her.
as i'm trying to wipe away my memory of caring for him, trying to ignore the fact that i'm flushing all my wasted milk down the toilet, trying not to think of myself as completely unnecessary now, trying to remind myself that i knew he wasn't going to need me after he was born and convince myself that, really, i'm all right with that...i don't want to be getting up all night...i don't want to be exhausted all the time...i'm neglecting her. she's sweet and kissing me and worried about me and needing me and i just can't manage. i shut my eyes and all i see is baby her. all i want is baby her. all i do is compare and compare and compare. but there's nothing to compare. there's no baby this time like there was with her. there's no bundle for me to hold and nurse and care for and love until i think my heart will burst. i want to just project it all on her. instead, i'm projecting it more on him, in ways he doesn't need...he's not a baby. but he was there...i have an odd association. i need him desperately. but, somehow, i also want him to need me.
when she climbed into the car, i wanted her to hug me. i wanted her to know i love her, even though i spent the entire morning redfaced and in tears. i wanted her to know that she is still the light of my life, even though i'm having trouble convincing myself. she is. she is. she is my baby. she needed me then and needs me now. just differently. and i have to remember not to forget that. my milk is in the toilet, but there are other serums that she needs. the kind that can only metaphorically swirl down the drain. the kind that are only washed away when they're neglected, unexpressed. the things she needs from me are more vital than the yellowish cloud in the toilet bowl. i just wish they dripped from me the same.
this is the best she can do right now as i'm in my doorway limp and streaked with tears. this is the best she can do. he was the best i could do. and it took a lot. i don't know what i expect from her. for her to try. not not right now.
the cramping still comes and goes, up my back, down my legs, around my waist. my stomach still mushes beneath my touch when i depress it. my breasts bulge and burst from beneath my shirt. everything else about me sags. and everything oozes...red swirls and dark little leeches...yellow swirls and white creamy gushes....salt chunks and clear, hot tears.
i need him.
she needs me.
i need him not to feel that he still needs to check on her.
