As I glanced down I could feel her sweet lips sucking away. My once small breast swollen with milk covers her tiny mouth and button nose. Her eyes start to slowly close and pop open as she fights the need to sleep. I can't help but already worry about the day when she will once not need me to feed her, the day that I will no longer breast feed freaks me out. She's only 4 months old and that day is far away, but I'm already getting anxious about it. She needs me, I'm the one that can soothe her when she's upset, I'm the one that can calm her place her on my breast and fulfill her need, I'm her momma. Now don't get me wrong the rational part of me just said "don't be stupid no longer breast feeding her doesn't mean you aren't her mother" but then the crazy psycho side of me feels like it'll be an end to something powerful, meaningful and my job will be over.That connection will be gone and then what do we have? I'm sure we will have so much more, I'm sure she will need me in other ways and I'll be to busy chasing her little ass around to even remember that she use to be on the boob, but for now I guess I'm prepping myself to mourn that connection with her.
Being a mother.....for me...so far means mourning things. There is always going to be a loss. As she grows things will change, routines will be different, she's going to grow over night and get big..... Each step in her life means she's stepping away from where she used to be. I might be one of those crazy mom's that cant let shit go. Gee lucky Scarlett. She'll be coming to me at 16 asking to go to a movie to which I'll proclaim "but your still a baby!! you can't be out that late at night..."
I wonder if I'm struggling with the idea of all these changes because I didn't get to experience them with him. I only ever had him as a tiny life less baby. So anything beyond that is huge. She lived THAT was big and now she's growing and I'm not sure I've grasped the fact that I get to keep her and she's alive. Never mind the fact that she's grabbing things and screeching at the top of her lungs because I'm not paying attention to her. Even the slightest changes are big ones, anything is big when all you know is death. All you know is that you grew a baby, you had him, he was small and perfect, but gone before he arrived.
I hope that when I get moments like the one I just had I'm cognisant enough to stop and take her in. As I pulled her off and tucked her into the nook of my neck I listened to her breathe in and out. I remembered that her head started at my neck and stretched all the way to my top thigh....."she's so long now" I thought. In and out in and out, one breath at a time. I remembered that as I was living my hellish nightmare there were moments when I thought that he was going to just breathe. I would stop and stare at his lifeless body because I thought he was taking a breath. I held my own trying desperately to listen and catch that inhale and exhale that would shake me out of the deathly reality I was currently living. I wanted it so badly I just wanted to hear him breathe and be ok and have him. I did that off and on for 16 or so hours that I had with him, but he never took a breath and I never got to take him home.
I hope she understands that when I'm holding her she's reminding me of him. That she knows that I'm soaking in her little moments because he taught me that I need to do that. I hope she can understand who he was and what kind of impact he had on getting her here. He's given me a chance to appreciate her more so than I think I would if he had lived. That is a gift that he will continue to give me forever.
It's still surreal to me, my life his life this life I lead. I cannot believe this has happened. I cannot believe I carried a baby for 10 months and he didn't live. How can that happen, how can it happen to me??? Years later and I'm still blown away by such a brutal tragedy. I still feel like she's not going to be mine to keep and that something is going to happen and she will be gone. That terrifies me and I'm not sure it's something I'll every be able to shake. I don't want to live in fear, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to change that. So in turn I have to try and look at it from another point of view and just cherish the time I do have her. Listen to her tiny little baby breaths, smile at her perfect little baby smile and smell her sweet baby smell. And just make sure I breathe.
Angus self weaned at 15 months, and I was devastated. I was pregnant again though, so I saw it coming. But I assure you, your connection will only grow and flourish.
This post really spoke to me.
xo
Posted by: Sally | 10/07/2011 at 07:44 AM