Part III

part III

We’ve Only Just Begun. Again

Later, after the work, and mess, and stress, they let me hold you. We were alone. Your mother had gone to the recovery room, and I was waiting for the nurse to get you. I had no idea how alert you would be. You stared at me with eyes so blue that in the dim light of the delivery room, they were black. We were alone. This was the most profound moment of my life. Because we were alone. I wept. For all those months of stress, all the years ahead, I wept. For your mom, exhausted and elated, I wept. But, mostly, for me. For all the mistakes. For all the stupidity of my life, I wept. I was still weeping when they took you from me.

I was unprepared for this. I knew that ahead of time. You were in my arms. You were awake. Alert. You just looked at me. And I looked at you. And somehow, in a dimly lit room in a hospital in Chicago, I fell in love with you again. You were aware of me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. You trusted me. The largest, scariest person you had ever seen, but you were completely at ease.

Now, a few months later, when I think back on your birthday, it’s that image I remember. Me and you. Holding each other. You held my heart that day and haven’t let go yet. Please don’t. I had prepared everyday for almost a year for you. And I still wasn’t ready.

Today you smiled at me when I got home.

Today you smiled at me when I got home. You were happy. Content. And you recognized your daddy. Me. I’m staring at you as I write this. You’re sleeping now. Your tiny hand moving to the beat of a dream that only you will ever know. But soon you will be awake, and you will remember me.

So now, after the pain of birth has become a distant experience, and you settle into life, I sit and watch. Watch your growing curiosity of the world around you. Watch you discover that you have hands and feet. You giggle, you laugh. Your eyes light up when you’re happy. When you’re sad, I see the anguish in your face. You’re a real person now, honey.

We’re four months into this little journey now. Yet, it seems like I’ve loved you forever. I’ve lived a full lifetime in the past year. Sometimes a single year can go by so fast, sometimes so slow. But, as I write this, exactly one year has past since I found out about you. April Fool’s Day.

Each night, as I put you to bed, I tell you how much I love you. A sleepy little girl trying to hold onto the day. Exhausted, yet content, you lay in your crib, and you look up at me with those enormous blue eyes. Eyes, that in the darkness of your room look black. And I remember. I will always remember the day my life changed. Your birthday. The day you grabbed my heart in your little tiny hands and squeezed.

4/1/05