Not Our First Rodeo

It seems I post about this same subject every now and again. Obviously Mother's Day and Father's Day came and went this year and we have B in our arms to hug and love on. We're thankful. We feel lucky-- like we scored the biggest deal or something just being able to bring home a live baby from the hospital.

My husband came home from work yesterday and told me that he was excited about working the next day, because then no one would congratulate and ask him how his first Father's Day was anymore. That the day after would be over. Reminds me a bit of when he returned to work after losing Andrew and he had to deal with the awkward condolences and overly sad looks. He was happy to go back as soon as possible, not only to distract himself, but to get that part over with.

Friends who came to see us in the hospital wished Elliot a Happy FIRST Father's Day on Saturday.

So is that it? Was Andrew, just like that, forgotten by these people? Because he's dead, does that then mean my wonderful husband did not become a father at conception, or at the very least, in that hospital room, holding his still baby boy? I think his 7lb. 6oz. of weight and pictures would be enough to assume he'd reached his fatherhood milestone already. Before Sunday. I even have Mother's Day and Father's Day cards to show for the two years prior when we were both already a mother and a father. I guess I just don't understand why it's so important for people to throw in the word first.

I was walking to the grocery store with B in the stroller the other day and a woman was speedwalking behind me. Of course she speeds in front and peers in {sometimes I feel like they might just crawl in, they're so nosy}, asking how old B is. She then tells me she'll be a grandmother very soon for the first time as I congratulate her {speedwalking still}. She then asks if B is my first, as if it really matters to the stranger and considering our conversation is coming to an end quite soon... and I told her he was my second. Her response?

Wow! Well aren't you ambitious!

I felt insulted for a few reasons. I'm turning 30 in just a few months. Do I not look fully capable and mature enough to handle birthing two children at this point in my life? I suppose I could take that as a compliment, but anyway. I just hated hearing those words, as if I had a choice and as if having children can really be classified in any way as being ambitious. It almost sounds like we were being careless and just randomly found ourselves knocked up with oops babies multiple times in a row. Because obviously we wouldn't want to have two babies 14 months apart. It quite disgusted me.

Mother's Day was similar, but I guess I sort of avoided it all. I threw away cards that indicated it was my first without much of a glance. Again, why must it be necessary to salt that wound? My husband bought me lovely earrings with B's birthstone and I wore my Andrew jewelry. We went for a nature walk and all I can say is that it was better than last year.

B is starting to sleep more at night-- well at least this week he has. When he doesn't wake after a few hours, I usually wake up in a cold sweat just wondering if he'll wake soon. The monitor tells me he's alive, but somehow I don't believe it. When he finally cries for food, I rush to use the restroom while I take in the sounds I wanted to hear for so long-- that I'm so thankful to hear in my home. I throw up a shout out to God for giving me B to mother and head into his room to kiss him, cuddle him, and feed him. I want desperately to remember what it's like to sleep through the night, but part of me isn't sure I can handle it. It's almost like I need to hear B's cries at some point in the night to remind me he's still alive. 

For now at least, that part of the year is over. At least next year we won't have to hear that dreaded word, first.