My first born son is seven years old today!! And I am feeling nostalgic about his birth. It was a tough pregnancy (especially after sailing through the first), a difficult birth (he has VERY wide shoulders, there were contraction enhancing drugs and NO painkillers) and an unexpected separation.
I wrote this on his fourth birthday and I’d like to share it with you all.
Today is my first born son’s birthday.
It has been four years since I had to do one of the hardest things ever in my life.
Leave him in the NICU and go home. Without my baby. Without my baby I had carried everywhere with me for the last 8 1/2 months. My baby I carried inside my body.I had to leave him.I couldn’t conceive of such a thing. I did it and I still don’t know how I didn’t die on the spot, I was so heartbroken. Having my first born was magical. I loved her so much that I didn’t see how there was any left for another child. I even wondered at this aloud and was always told that you just do. You love them from the moment you find out they’re on their way. And when they’re born your ability to love expands to include them.
I didn’t see how this could be true until I learned I was pregnant again, until I felt his first kick, until I looked at his beautiful face. And then even more powerfully when I looked at him in the incubator, covered in tape and tubes.
I had never felt so broken as the day, he was just 2 days old, when I had to go say goodbye to him and go home. I don’t know how I did it. I think the thought of seeing his sister and telling her about her brother and enjoying her first days of pre-school were all that got me through.
I love this boy. This tiny man who seems so far beyond his years he could be turning 40 today instead of 4. This boy who tells his mom and sisters how beautiful and smart and great they are.
I love you, the one who proved the power of love to me.