So, I have started the book, and in the interest of keeping myself sane and also making some sort of progress, I have decided to write the easy parts first. The parts that stand out in my mind so clearly it's like watching a DVD when I close my eyes. Those days, hours, moments, that are etched into my memory and thus easy to pull up and spill onto pages.
I wrote the story of Aaron's birth. In more detail than I have ever written before, and for the first time trying to express how I felt as it was happening. Are there words for the feeling of being told your child is going to be born immediately - and at only 29 weeks gestation? I have tried very hard to find them.
“The baby is delivering right now.”
The words stopped the world. I shook my head, unable to form sentences. From far away I heard the doctor requesting that the NICU be notified. Unbidden, the words fell out of my mouth. “No, no, no, no. It's too soon. No, no, no.” The room was spinning. Someone placed a mask over my mouth, and I fought to take it off. I couldn’t breathe.
Looking back on that day now that Aaron is so big and strong and healthy, is almost surreal. I am pretty sure his head alone now weighs more than his entire self did on the day he was born. At 3 lbs 4oz, he was actually a pretty big baby for his gestational age. But to me, he was the tiniest thing ever. This is no longer the case. My preemie turned into a chunky monkey in record time, and is now toddling around the house like a madman. All the fear of that day has been entirely washed away.
But I am often reminded that I am one of the lucky ones. Not every baby born early, especially as early as Aaron came, goes home. Writing his birth story, reflecting on his short life up until now, I can't help but feel unbearably grateful.
Yeah, yeah, that is my teary moment for the week. I wasn't crying when he pooped in the tub tonight. Nor when he did the same last night. Neither was I laughing. Motherhood. What a rollercoaster.