Irrevocably Sewn
I am in wonder of this growing child within me, my boy…my BOY!! That thought still hits me like a ton of bricks. How am I going to be a mother to a boy? Someone left a comment on my other blog saying that I need to get ready for him to steal my heart. Even though my doubts are contrary to what I already know, it is still so hard to wrap my mind around the idea, really.
This isn’t a new feeling for me, either. I remember this exact same thought just before the birth of my second child, Esther. I felt so passionately protective of Abby, who then was just two. There was such an incredible closeness to her, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else even beginning to share that spotlight; it just didn’t seem at all remotely possible. There was absolutely no way I could love another child just as much. No way my heart could envelope both of them with equal portions of love. Yet, all alone in that hospital bed, when I held my new baby girl in my arms, no one else around us, I remember willing the rest of the world to fade into oblivion and for the two of us to meld into one heart; I was so incredibly in love with this little girl.
When we brought her home, I was struck by how enormous Abby had gotten, apparently in a matter of mere hours. My next thought was that I had to protect this sweet, breakable creature in my arms from this bumblingly awkward invader. She wanted to touch and hold her little sister as much as I did, yet she had the typical ungainliness of any two-year-old, and I felt immediately defensive of the fragility of my littlest one. That short two-day jaunt alone with that brand-new bundle in the hospital had linked my heart inevitably with hers and had sadly put almost a chasm between my older child and me. Thankfully, a few days back home brought balance back into the picture as my heart swallowed them both, wholly and fully, with all of the passion it had with Abby alone.
This memory sheds light on the entrance of this new child growing within me. The first few months were agony, between sour-stomach bouts, nausea, and exhaustion, I could scarcely tell which way was up some days. As he slowly has been fashioned within me, however, those miseries have subsided, for the most part – with a few added miseries, like indigestion and decreased lung capacity – and I’ve begun to feel him. With your second and third child, you don’t even remember you're pregnant some days, especially in the beginning, because you are so consumed with the other children who possess every hour of the day, but then, when the baby inside of you begins to move, he/she is always reminding you that they’re there, patiently abiding the time until they will soon be an equal part of this little crew of yours.
The movements have started small – like tiny knuckles swabbed against the lower creases of my uterus. The older he gets, the bigger the movements – small elbows and knees running quickly across my belly button or little staccato successions of hiccups when I’m trying ever so desperately to fall asleep. And the movements progress all day long now, as opposed to the infrequent, periodic movements from only a month ago.
Movements that tell me my son is here, already being sewn irrevocably to my soul.
This isn’t a new feeling for me, either. I remember this exact same thought just before the birth of my second child, Esther. I felt so passionately protective of Abby, who then was just two. There was such an incredible closeness to her, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else even beginning to share that spotlight; it just didn’t seem at all remotely possible. There was absolutely no way I could love another child just as much. No way my heart could envelope both of them with equal portions of love. Yet, all alone in that hospital bed, when I held my new baby girl in my arms, no one else around us, I remember willing the rest of the world to fade into oblivion and for the two of us to meld into one heart; I was so incredibly in love with this little girl.
When we brought her home, I was struck by how enormous Abby had gotten, apparently in a matter of mere hours. My next thought was that I had to protect this sweet, breakable creature in my arms from this bumblingly awkward invader. She wanted to touch and hold her little sister as much as I did, yet she had the typical ungainliness of any two-year-old, and I felt immediately defensive of the fragility of my littlest one. That short two-day jaunt alone with that brand-new bundle in the hospital had linked my heart inevitably with hers and had sadly put almost a chasm between my older child and me. Thankfully, a few days back home brought balance back into the picture as my heart swallowed them both, wholly and fully, with all of the passion it had with Abby alone.
This memory sheds light on the entrance of this new child growing within me. The first few months were agony, between sour-stomach bouts, nausea, and exhaustion, I could scarcely tell which way was up some days. As he slowly has been fashioned within me, however, those miseries have subsided, for the most part – with a few added miseries, like indigestion and decreased lung capacity – and I’ve begun to feel him. With your second and third child, you don’t even remember you're pregnant some days, especially in the beginning, because you are so consumed with the other children who possess every hour of the day, but then, when the baby inside of you begins to move, he/she is always reminding you that they’re there, patiently abiding the time until they will soon be an equal part of this little crew of yours.
The movements have started small – like tiny knuckles swabbed against the lower creases of my uterus. The older he gets, the bigger the movements – small elbows and knees running quickly across my belly button or little staccato successions of hiccups when I’m trying ever so desperately to fall asleep. And the movements progress all day long now, as opposed to the infrequent, periodic movements from only a month ago.
Movements that tell me my son is here, already being sewn irrevocably to my soul.
Comments
I love the way you put it into words. I certainly had the same thoughts and feelings with baby #2...
For the first year or so, you may forget he's a boy, when his diaper is on :) And he'll just be "the baby"...
Once he starts to walk, talk, play ball, VROOOM trucks, point out all cars made prior to 1960, ask if he can play FOOTBALL... haha
by then, you'll be so used to the fact that he's a boy, it won't surprise you! ;)
For now-- he's just precious little swaddled baby!
:)
cj