It's 3:00am. I woke up on the couch 3 hours ago and shortly afterwards posted on Facebook:
"Nothin' like a good book on a Saturday night. In fact, so good that the baby and I fell asleep in the living room (he was in his swing) and didn't notice the night nurse's arrival for almost an hour. After waking up on the couch, I said, 'Did the dog bark when you walked in? I'm surprised I didn't wake.' She replied, 'Yes, and your security dog is so helpful that she even showed me where the TV is.' "
I've been laying in bed ever since. Just thinking.
As I wrap my arm underneath me on my side of our pillow, I remind myself of how wonderful it is to share a pillow with someone, even though I'm pushing aside the thought that it's mildly pathetic to only have one pillow. I snuggled up to the warmth of my snoring walrus of a husband and started thinking about all the other things we share. Our straws. Our sadnesses. Our burdens. Our hugs. Our happiness. Our hearts. Sometimes even Our toothbrush.
The love and happy times make all the hard times so worth it. I never thought it was possible to feel so connected to someone; almost as if he's just an extension of myself.
I am also incredibly in love with my son. With his situation, it took awhile for the motherhood mode to kick in. After being in the hospital for so long, it was almost as if he wasn't mine. Someone else was always there to change his diaper and administer his feedings. Intimidated by all the monitors and tubes, all I could do was look at him.
I can honestly identify the moment of true realization that my maternal instincts kicked in. Just days after being home, I was giving him a bath in his baby tub in the bathroom. As we finished up, I realized I hadn't grabbed a towel so I placed him on the fluffy floor mat and darted 3 feet to the hall closet. Within seconds I returned to the bathroom and saw my tiny, little, helpless baby wiggling around on the floor with an expression that almost said, "Help me, Mom." There ya have it; Instant mom: just add water.
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