This is the day, 30 years ago, that I sat in a hospital bed, confused, bemused, besotted... At 1:49am on August 10th 1981 I gave birth to JC. Some 6 weeks premature, very small even for that gestation & with a fighter's strength he hung on to life with a determination belied by his size. He was delivered naturally, suddenly and still in the amniotic sac. The nurses wrapped him up in a warm blanket and then silver foil. They held him out to show me with the words "here's your son, you probably won't see him again". These are not words you want to hear when you've just given birth to your first child. These are actually words you just never want to hear.
They were wrong though.
He was far tougher than they thought. He struggled on in NICU with breathing problems, hernias, heart problems. He had blood transfusions, so many tubes & wires there was almost none of him to see. He wore a size 000 singlet doubled over as a nappy. Even that swam on him. 936grams doesn't make a big baby.
We spent three months visiting him in hospital until he was finally able to come home. I spent the first three days of that desperate to hold him, touch him, let him know I was there watching over him. I was getting more stressed by the minute until finally, after a crying jag, they did the face palm thing & realized it would be good to let me hold him. For both of us... it was. It was among the most wonderful feelings I can remember to hold him. So tiny I was scared he'd slip through my hands. You think a newborn is small until you hold a premmie. Then you Know small.
For a little over two years I loved & cuddled my beautiful boy. I made it through the heartache of leaving him in a hospital crib when I went home each night. I managed to get through the stresses, the fears, the newness of everything in my life. I loved every minute of being JC's mother even though, at the time, I didn't realize how much I loved it.
I've now spent 30 years loving that beautiful boy. Most of them loving his memory & trying to hold onto the little things that remind me of how much I loved him. I wouldn't change a thing.
For JC's Thirtieth birthday I chose to have a cake which I shared with J & O. We blew out candles, sang Happy birthday & O asked about going to see JC in the graveyard so he could pray for him. J cried when I said I miss JC. I do miss him but I still wouldn't have him back. He is a part of me, a part of my life but J & O are the rest of my life. So here I sit, wondering a little what sort of man he would have been. Would he have married & made me a grandmother by now? Would he have been career oriented and still be single? I'd like to think that he would have been a good man either way.
No matter which, I'd still be proud, still love him and I still can't quite believe I'm old enough to be the mother of a 30 year old.
They were wrong though.
He was far tougher than they thought. He struggled on in NICU with breathing problems, hernias, heart problems. He had blood transfusions, so many tubes & wires there was almost none of him to see. He wore a size 000 singlet doubled over as a nappy. Even that swam on him. 936grams doesn't make a big baby.
We spent three months visiting him in hospital until he was finally able to come home. I spent the first three days of that desperate to hold him, touch him, let him know I was there watching over him. I was getting more stressed by the minute until finally, after a crying jag, they did the face palm thing & realized it would be good to let me hold him. For both of us... it was. It was among the most wonderful feelings I can remember to hold him. So tiny I was scared he'd slip through my hands. You think a newborn is small until you hold a premmie. Then you Know small.
For a little over two years I loved & cuddled my beautiful boy. I made it through the heartache of leaving him in a hospital crib when I went home each night. I managed to get through the stresses, the fears, the newness of everything in my life. I loved every minute of being JC's mother even though, at the time, I didn't realize how much I loved it.
I've now spent 30 years loving that beautiful boy. Most of them loving his memory & trying to hold onto the little things that remind me of how much I loved him. I wouldn't change a thing.
For JC's Thirtieth birthday I chose to have a cake which I shared with J & O. We blew out candles, sang Happy birthday & O asked about going to see JC in the graveyard so he could pray for him. J cried when I said I miss JC. I do miss him but I still wouldn't have him back. He is a part of me, a part of my life but J & O are the rest of my life. So here I sit, wondering a little what sort of man he would have been. Would he have married & made me a grandmother by now? Would he have been career oriented and still be single? I'd like to think that he would have been a good man either way.
No matter which, I'd still be proud, still love him and I still can't quite believe I'm old enough to be the mother of a 30 year old.
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