The last few days have been hard on Momma.
It all started on May 17, the day Pickle turned four months old. We took him to see your wonderful pediatrician and it brought back so many memories. Memories of visits to the same doctor, the same office and the same set of vaccinations - with you. During the appointment we got the green light to start your little brother on pureed fruits, veggies and some cereal. Joy!
That evening we excitedly prepared a little bowl of rice cereal for The Pickle, outfitted him with his super-durable stain-resistant bib, and proceeded to introduce him to a whole new food sensation. He was unsure, a little cautious. The texture seemed quite foreign. I'm pretty sure more cereal wound up on the bib than in his belly. But...he got it. A big smile crept across his face once he recovered from the initial shock. And I felt like I was watching you all over again.
The next day we took Pickle's four month photos. The morning was clear blue, with a slight southern breeze and a full, bright sun. Dadda and I made sure we both could be home for the photos...a hard lesson learned. Almost none of your pictures include both me and Dadda. What a huge regret. This time will be different. But...this time should also have you in the pictures. And, it hit me. Here we are, blissfully planning ahead again. What if Pickle gets ripped away from us too? Did I not learn my lesson?
This same theme continued in Momma's brain all weekend combined with intense fear. Poor Pickle had an over-vigilant Momma watching him every second while he tried to nap. Checking him to make sure his chest was rising and falling with breath. Feeling his forehead to make sure he wasn't warm. Irrational actions that didn't serve any good, and probably just made me crazier.
Then, this morning it all came crashing down, this strong "I'm OK" mask I've been wearing for days. On the drive into work Momma's iPod decided to issue a swift kick to my heart. Stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, with no place to pull off or escape, "Baby Mine" started playing. The haunting, perfectly beautiful lullaby from Disney's Dumbo. Our song. The song I sang to my belly while I was pregnant with you. The song I whispered to you in the wee hours of the morning right after we brought you home as a newborn. The song that calmed you when you would fuss in Momma's car.
Cue the tears.
Peanut, I wept for you in a way I haven't cried in a while. A constant, steady cry hidden by my sunglasses and protected by heavy, standstill traffic. No heaving sobs. No hysterics. Just tears. A lot of tears. And an aching heart.
Traffic slowly began to roll forward, and as Momma rounded a bend in the rode the sun broke out from behind the clouds. Brilliant, surrounded by a cornflower blue sky. A sense of calm, of love, embraced me. It literally washed over me with a giant hug. A familiar hug. A Peanut hug. I simply uttered "Peanut" with a little smile.
I felt you today. You hugged me. So powerful. So overwhelming I haven't spoken about it to anyone. My angel, my son, my baby. I love you so, so, so very much. To the moooooon and back!
|Peanut ("Baby Bird") enjoying every bite of food @ 10 months.|
|Pickle's first brush with cereal!|