last night i stopped at the grocery on my way home from work. Yes, I am back to work, started last Saturday, on my due date. My baby is now 4 weeks old. That is just how it happens around here.
Anyway, I was trying to decide which 88 cent 2 liter of soda I would be taking home (but opening in the car. i had a cup in there. not swigging from a 2 liter one-handed driving down hwy 100) when I spotted one of my favorite clients. I called her name. Twice. And took a couple steps her direction. She didn't run down the aisle pretending not to hear me. She even gave me a hug. She is just a super special lady. I think its okay to say, her name is Deb. So, yeah, I started chatting with her, and immediately used her listening ear to spill my story.
I have loved birth and breastfeeding stories since Theo was born. I feel like it is an absolutely amazing experience, kind of gross, but just too wonderful not to celebrate life and being a mother. I'm not so good at any of it, but good enough. (Bette told me so last week.) And it just challenges me every single day. I think about working full-time, or dream of being rich with a nanny. I feel hopeless and helpless on occasion, but I love my children to the moon and back times my age (23, right?). And they have not only me, but also a really great Dad to love them. And we do our best. Habtamu does his best all the time, and I do my best MOST of the time. *smirk* So parenting stories are good for bonding, but birthing stories tie mothers together in a way that, well, I can't quite articulate. And I love my babies as newborns. Fresh. And my newborn was taken away from me as I was bleeding and passing huge apple-size clots, and while I did hold him for a good stretch after he was born, it was weird and sad to go 4 hours without seeing or holding or even hearing him in his first 7 hours of life. Oh! my dear Judah. I cried many gulping tears when I got to see him again. With all his wires and tubes, and breathing. Sweet breaths!
So Deb asked, and I told her the story, and how nerve wracking it was, even though with time, we knew we'd both be okay, mother and son. And I told her that my Mom got hauled off in an ambulance from my house. And how scary that is for me still. I've been wanting to share more of my story with you, dear friend, to get it out of my head, and to let you know. Because if it was you, I'd need to hear your story and know that you were woven a little tighter into this life, and our friendship, and our common mission, living life.
But my brain has been so foggy. And I feel a little strange being so affected, because I know other Mom's and families that have been through worse. But it is my story, as it relates to my life, and the experience in my log, and it does have value. I'll hope to share more of it, to get it all out there, to make more room in my mind for more; opportunities to illuminate my friendships, and blessings, and greater perspective and opportunity to see the good in those around me, to be thankful for all of the above.
Deb came in for a haircut today. My only client for the day! It was good I saw her last night, to get the story out of the way of her new 'do.