Sophie was 10 days old.
It was probably 9:30 pm. I fed her, burped her, and put her in her crib.
Then I went and took a shower.
Twenty minutes later, Ben was holding her. She was screaming and unable to catch her breath. Something was wrong. My mom was visiting and told me that she had spit up, and was having problems breathing. It was her idea to call 911.
The operator that I spoke to was concerned and sent an ambulance. What took them maybe five minutes to get to us, felt like forever. The paramedics examined her. She was wheezing so they wanted to take her to the hospital to make sure she was okay. I went with them. Adrenaline kicked in. Game face.
For maybe two hours I was totally calm and collected. I answered all of the social worker's questions with ease. I kept it together while the ditsy radiology tech tried to take x-rays. I didn't flinch while I pinned her down so that the respiratory specialist could stick tubes down her nose.
I was just happy that she was okay. Everything came back good. I was relieved.
Then Ben walked in the room. All of a sudden this huge rush of real relief came over me. As soon as I saw him tears had rushed down my face. I felt stupid for crying, after knowing everything was fine. He hugged me anyway. I felt normal again.
So here I am...almost 3 years after everything changed. I can list dozens of blog-worthy reasons why I'm so okay now, why my new normal is good, how effing kick-A I am.
Then the last two weeks happen (or maybe it's just been a crazy month or two). Things get a little heavy. But I'm okay. I've totally got this.
But there's still this small part of me that knows if Ben walked through the door, I'd burst into tears. That game face I haven't realized I'm wearing could come off for a minute. He'd look so calm. I'd for sure feel stupid for crying. He'd hug me anyway, and I might feel normal again.
For now, this will have to do.
It was probably 9:30 pm. I fed her, burped her, and put her in her crib.
Then I went and took a shower.
Twenty minutes later, Ben was holding her. She was screaming and unable to catch her breath. Something was wrong. My mom was visiting and told me that she had spit up, and was having problems breathing. It was her idea to call 911.
The operator that I spoke to was concerned and sent an ambulance. What took them maybe five minutes to get to us, felt like forever. The paramedics examined her. She was wheezing so they wanted to take her to the hospital to make sure she was okay. I went with them. Adrenaline kicked in. Game face.
For maybe two hours I was totally calm and collected. I answered all of the social worker's questions with ease. I kept it together while the ditsy radiology tech tried to take x-rays. I didn't flinch while I pinned her down so that the respiratory specialist could stick tubes down her nose.
I was just happy that she was okay. Everything came back good. I was relieved.
Then Ben walked in the room. All of a sudden this huge rush of real relief came over me. As soon as I saw him tears had rushed down my face. I felt stupid for crying, after knowing everything was fine. He hugged me anyway. I felt normal again.
So here I am...almost 3 years after everything changed. I can list dozens of blog-worthy reasons why I'm so okay now, why my new normal is good, how effing kick-A I am.
Then the last two weeks happen (or maybe it's just been a crazy month or two). Things get a little heavy. But I'm okay. I've totally got this.
But there's still this small part of me that knows if Ben walked through the door, I'd burst into tears. That game face I haven't realized I'm wearing could come off for a minute. He'd look so calm. I'd for sure feel stupid for crying. He'd hug me anyway, and I might feel normal again.
For now, this will have to do.
1 comment:
i know you posted this a while ago, but i just love it. Its so true.
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