The baby is no longer in my belly, but sleeping soundly next to me, while we both listen to the sounds of his noise machine. He, much like everything else this year, caused quite a stir with his arrival into the world due to an "emergency" c-section that nobody, me especially, could have predicted. In fact, this birth story is much like a metaphor for our entire Covid-19 experience. After experiencing a smooth induction that moved quickly and being told I was ready to push, everything changed in a matter of seconds - He was breeched and he was coming, whether we were ready or not, so a storm of doctors and nurses flooded the room and with tears streaming down my face, I was rushed to an operating room, leaving my husband behind and counting the minutes until I saw him come through the door to be by my side. I felt completely blindsided and beyond scared, as I had no time to mentally prepare for major surgery and immediately thought of my toddler waiting for me at home. Waiting for me to come home and put him in my lap for songs and a story before bedtime. I told the nurses through my tears how much I wanted to be able to do that when I got home, to give him every sense of normalcy I could, since so much of that had already been stripped away - no parks, no play places, no choo choo restaurant and to top it off, a brand new brother who would demand much of my time. But there was no turning back and it all moved so quickly.
I felt them poking and prodding me but never any pain. I squeezed my husbands hand and stared up at the bright lights, wondering if I was dreaming and just waiting for it to be done. I thought about my parents at home, who so desperately wanted to be sitting in the waiting room and I wondered how long it had been since they heard an update. I couldn't stop shaking, my teeth chattering uncontrollably and the nurse assured me that was the drugs, that this was normal. But really, none of this was normal. I waited to hear him cry, to hear that he was healthy and see his face, which we had been imagining for 9 months prior. I felt the weight of him as they placed him on my chest, my husband supporting him, as I could not physically manage that. He was beautiful and everything I imagined yet at the same time, nothing like I thought. Thank God he was here safely.
It felt odd not to have any hospital visitors. To have to put on a mask every time a nurse entered the room (which was often). To watch "Couples Retreat" with the volume almost too low to hear on the TV in our room. Neither of us even like the movie - We laughed because we were just too tired to find anything else. To order pizza via Door Dash and have it delivered to the hospital. To not be able to receive any gifts to our room of any kind (My Mom is still upset she couldn't send flowers). To see a gift shop, lights off and doors closed. To know how badly our Families wish they were there, kissing the new member and wishing us well. To not have the option for newborn photos, commemorating such a magical moment in our lives. I've said this so many times but what an odd time to have a baby.
I was extremely sore and still in a bit of shock that I had major surgery. A few days prior to my induction, the dr had felt my stomach and said the baby was in perfect position. How could he have flipped this late? Or had he? I couldn't move with any ease or do anything on my own which was disheartening. But the morning after delivery, I woke up when the sun was starting to rise which highlighted the tiny little profile of our new little man and I had deja vous from the first hospital morning after Ronan was born. It was quiet besides a few hospital beeps, my baby boy's chest was moving up and down ever so slightly and my heart expanded beyond what I ever thought was possible.
I admit, I felt frustrated that I was going to be left with a massive scar smack dab in the middle of my stomach. It is now 2+ months later and I have such different, unexpected feelings. I find myself hoping that no matter how much it lightens over time, I will always be able to see it. Babies don't keep and we try to capture their spirit, their innocence as much as possible through film and photographs but even those get lost or fade over time. I have a physical mark to remind me of the exact spot where my son entered the world...to remind me of everything we went through during this unprecedented time. But most of all, to remind me of how amazingly strong Mothers are, creating life and nurturing it for every minute after.
Though Lawson's birth story is a bit upsetting, his presence is anything but. He is an angel baby, a missing piece of our Family puzzle, who spends his moments awake with a massive smile on his face and sleeps peacefully, rarely causing a ruckus. He is something I am so sure of in a world where it's hard to make sense of anything.
It's hard to believe how quickly everything can change. Those co-workers I mentioned at the beginning, I haven't seen them in so long and they were such a big part of my life. The trade show and event industry we were thriving in just months ago has completely shut down, leaving us all wondering where we'll go from here. I miss so many things, some significant, some not. My job - The inside jokes - The Target dollar section - The library - The park(s) - Sharing sandwiches with Ronan at the coffee shop - The Farmers Market (as it was) - The Children's Museum - The aforementioned train restaurant - Restaurants in general - Going to the movies - Going anywhere, really - Being able to use public restrooms - Swimming pools - Ice cream shops - Not wiping down every grocery item - Being able to smile at a stranger when they walk by. You don't even realize how much you miss the little things until you no longer have them.
But as important as it is to talk about how hard all of this is, I must also acknowledge that parts of it have been a blessing. We are healthy, number one. Family time together we would have never gotten otherwise. Completed house projects. Utilizing what we have. Realizing we were moving way too fast and seeing the benefits of slowing down. As much as I love to be on the go, I have relished in living life at a slower pace. Not looking at the clock as much which means we all go to sleep at 10pm and wakeup late, a Summer schedule at its best. Daily morning (and evening) walks to spot pinecones, fireflies, cicadas and our neighbors lawn decor (the kitty's eyes light up!). Barefoot in the grass chats with our neighbors, sitting on the porch playing eye spy and eating breakfast on the deck. These are things we might not have thought of pre-quarantine but I have loved watching Ronan experience a more simplified Summer and honestly, I think he's had the time of his life. I know he has loved having both of us around all the time and we've gone above and beyond to make sure he doesn't notice any of the missing things from our normal routine. A children's roller coaster now sits in our basement, a dinosaur pool in the backyard and popsicles are had at 9am, all of which we have justified by the quarantine and big smiles like this one.
Our Families have been amazing support systems and we are lucky to have each other. We've kept them close for our mental health and sanity and roughed this storm together. We've done our best to stay safe and optimistic, despite wading through a never-ending sea of unknown and we will continue to put on brave faces for our two littlest faces, who I hope only learn anything about Covid-19 from an article they may read many years from now, while sitting at a restaurant, sharing a meal with their friends and making plans to head to the movies.
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"Sometimes life throws us a curveball, for no reason that we can fathom. But we do not despair - We are not alone. We can persevere. This, too, shall pass, like the heat of Summer."
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