WARNING: LOTS OF REFLECTION AND COMMAS AHEAD
I'm sure everyone reading this knows what happened between then and now - both the bad and the good, and if you don't, it's in the archive.
In a wonderful development, the pain and fear we experienced when Jude was born with such a poor prognosis has subsided more quickly than I could have ever imagined. With every babble, roll, step, crawl, or drum, the spectre of a child who couldn't care for himself, or worse, disappears a little more. I say this now because, as his birthday approaches, I've never been more aware of the meaning of the term bittersweet.
We all know the good. The sweet. Aside from a bout with nasty, nasty acid reflux, we've been blessed with the most happy, content, inquisitive, calm, independent, fun baby i could have ever hoped for. He walks already, he's strong, he's healthy, he signs to us, he understands things we say, he sleeps twelve hours at night, and he charms everyone who meets him. Under any circumstances, we have a great baby. Under the circumstances of his birth, we have an amazing baby. Although those circumstances don't enter my mind as much any more, I know how lucky we were.
Here's the weird thing: Even when I think back on the birth, it's not the prognosis that brings back bad feelings. It's probably because we know the end of the story, but the fear I had for Jude's life doesn't recall pain. It recalls a tough situation that, through the support of family and friends (and even a few internet strangers), we survived, and through the expertise of caring and skilled doctors and nurses, Jude survived.
The worst feelings are when I think about the end of the pregnancy.
Amanda was the most wonderful pregnant woman. Dutiful in her yoga, her vitamin-taking, her water-drinking, her love for me and the dogs and the unborn Jude. The last month or so of the pregnancy was one of the most fun, free, and exciting times of our marriage to date. The closeness we experienced as a result of our anticipation was enriching. We exercised together every day, we planned and hoped - just like many other parents-to-be.
Amanda wanted to have a natural birth - no painkillers, definitely no induction, and simply the support of her breathing, her husband, and the big birthing ball. As readers of the live-blog know, that didn't (and couldn't) happen.
It may sound silly that thinking of the pregnancy hurts, but if I had to narrow down the entire experience of Jude's borth to one worst thing, it would be the pain Amanda had to go through, both physically and emotionally, during the back labor, extraction, episiotomy, and finally, the realization that the baby she worked so hard to get out had something very, very wrong with him.
I can get past what happened to Jude, because he's fine. He's more than fine. He's thriving, and he'll probably never have any lasting effects from his injuries.
I don't think I'm past what could happen if we ever do this again. I don't know that I can get excited again about prenatal yoga, or driving to the hospital, or any of that, because we got so high on it before, and it came so close to bottoming out. I can't bear to think of Amanda being so excited when I know what pain she went through afterward. I also can't bear to think about being pregnant again without being as excited as before.
This will probably fade too. After all, I can tangibly see that Amanda and I are fine just as well as I can see that Jude is fine. In time, maybe we'll be ready to go through it all again. Maybe not.
Right now though, I want to be done with thinking about that. I want to focus on celebrating a dinosaur-themed birthday with friends and family.
So happy birthday, Captain Judeman! It's been a great year. I'm glad you'll never know how bad the first week of it was.
We love you!
1 comment:
well said! We're proud of you son
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