Hindsight

Monday, July 23, 2012

3 years deep. 3 years since I went into the hospital on bedrest with Bobby and Maya, the little guy's bag bulging beyond my stitched-shut-but-1cm-dilated-anyway cervix. 3 years since I was told by an unthoughtful nurse that "some babies just dont make it". (You think? Have you even bothered to read my chart? I kind of know that...) 3 years since I met the Resident who would take such wonderful care of me and even come back and do a round on me when I asked that the Resident whom I felt was partially responsible for Alexander's birth ended up as the Resident who took his place when he transferred to do his final stint before taking on his specialty (of gynecological oncology). 3 years since I met the two nurses who would cheer me up whe I was down, roll their eyes when the bambinos wouldnt behave on the monitor (and fight to find them!), and would ultimately rub my back and hold my hand when labor could couldnt be stopped (and were Bobby and Maya's first visitors in the NICU!).

3 years have passed since that day on July 23, 2009.  Which means that, in seven weeks, my babies turn 3. Amazing.

So much has changed. Maya's still irritating her brother and he's still pushing her back. :) These days, they're counting and singing and loving life.

And I'm reminded for the billionth, quadrillionth time how lucky I am. How very VERY lucky.

For never before in story or rhyme
Not even once upon a time
Has the world ever known a you my friend
And it never will- not ever again.

***
Those words, from The Night You Were Born, are read nightly in our house by Peter. (We each read a book at night.) I cant read them outloud, so whichever child chose that book, I always knew that Peter would read it. Well, I can read them, and I do if the kids ask for that book during the day, but it's tough.

That's a book I read to Nicholas and Sophia; I couldn't do it when I was pregnant with Alexander. (He got The Giving Tree, for which I could write a similar piece about as I am for TNYWB.

I can make it through without tears until the last few pages.

So whenever you wonder just how special you are... Please don't wonder, my loves.  You are so special... So very special.  And you wonder who loves you- how much and how far... To heaven and back, my sweets.  Just listen for geese honking high in the sky- they're singing a song to remember you by... Do you hear the sound of my weeping, down here on earth? The sound of a love that is so intense for you that it will never die? Or look at the polar bears, asleep at the zoo- it's because they've been dancing all night for you... Do you visit me at night when I sleep, the depth of the emotion I have flooding my senses and begging for the release that the touch of your tiny fingers might bring? Or drift off to sleep to te sound of the wind- listen closely, it's whispering your name again... The sweetest words off my tongue are your names, whispered, or even thought. If the moon stays up until morning one day, or a ladybug sits and decides to stay, or a little bird sits at your window a while... Or your mother hunkers down on her knees in a deep prayer of loss or clings to your youngest siblings in thanksgiving for your sacrifice and longing for your presence on earth with them or lights a candle with you in mind as she wipes back a tear from her cheek... It's because they're all hoping to see you smile.

For never before in story or rhyme- not even once upon a time- has the world ever known a you, my friend, and it never will. Not ever again. Not ever. Not in this life. For you were each special and wonderful and unique. A piece of me, a piece of your father. A piece of generations before and generations to com. A gift. A blessing. A loved child- my loved child. And the world, not ready for you, never got the chance to know you. They never heard your laughters (although I do, every time the wooden windchimes on the porch clink). It never saw your smiles (although I do, in every ray of sunshine). It never felt your kiss (although I do, every time the rain falls). It never heard you say "I love you" (although I do, every time your brother or sister say it with a special gleam in their eye). The world hs never known a you and it never will, not ever again. But I do. And I always will.

Always.

3 comments:

Trennia said...

Beautiful post <3

Peter said...

A beautiful post and one I needed to read tonight.

But I disagree with the world had never known you. I think of Pastor Kadel's sermon (and that night), Sarah's shirt (and the weeks that led up to it), and some special pictures of my parents with their grandson (and the time that they still talk about)

reba alice said...

i adore that book as well and i tear up reading it to naomi, too. but i love being reminded of what an amazing miracle she is/they all are.