On October 6th, at 12:08 in the morning, we welcomed into the world our brand new baby girl. Six pounds and five ounces of pure newborn pink came into this world at rapid pace. We were thankful she was whole and healthy, but worry furrowed my brow. I was GBS positive and she came too quickly- I hadn't been able to receive the antibiotic that needed to be in my system before she made her way into the world. She would have to be monitored closely, we would need to stay an extra day in the hospital. The doctors were calm, and I tried with all my might to reflect that calm in my face, but my heart was a two-year old colt fresh off the racetrack.
In the days that followed something lovely began to happen. Our daughter would smile, not the half face smirky smile, but the whole face, eyes squinted, dimpled cheeks prominent, smile. If you saw a picture it looked like she was laughing with unhindered joy. A blessing, a soothing calm for the mother's worry of a heart. Every fiber of her tiny being fought to be content. But now, three weeks later, it has become a tremendous struggle. Now she is hurting and upset that she is upset. Looking at her face it is easy to tell that she does not desire to be as she is, but she can't help it. She is in pain. Pain that makes her back arch, her body turn beat red, and piercing wails escape from deep within her chest.
It is one of the hardest parts of parenthood. Listening to a new baby desperate for pain relief, and unable to communicate any other way than ear piercing cries. It wrenches the parents' hearts from their bodies. My eyes begin to burn and I want to run out of the room. Like if I am not standing there, useless to aid her, then she will no longer be in agony. My feet beg to run, my blood pulses through my veins urging me to flee from the room. And yet my chest aches to hold her, to soothe her. My knees collapse and the tears escape, while my body remains paralyzed. Unable to move one way or the other.
This time of the evening is the time when father is mother's blessing. Time is granted to escape in the warm water of the shower while he sits with the crying child. Shushing, singing, rocking, and cooing take place.
The other night our little Maddie girl was having one of the above evenings. I was in the shower, my husband had Maddie, and our son was sound asleep. By the time I was out of the shower, however, our son had woken up. A fresh set of tears just as we had gotten Maddie to sleep. Isn't that the story of parenthood? My husband went in to check on Tucker, who is normally easily consoled in the middle of the night, but he wouldn't quiet down this time. I heard him crying for me, so I went in. My husband whispered that he thought Tucker had had a nightmare. I set on the floor with our son in my arms, but he was desperate for something. He went to the door and my husband opened it for him. Tucker looked at me and gestured for me to hold him. I picked him up while looking puzzled at my husband. "What on earth? He's never done this before... What's wrong?" was the silent message sent from my eyes to my husbands eyes. We made our way down the hall- Tucker pointing the way to where he needed to go. Then all of a sudden he looks at me, and with a whimper in his voice says, "Maddie?"
Immediately I understood. His panicked face, his quivering voice... He had been hearing his sister's cries. He understood that she was in pain. And since she was now asleep the cries had stopped... "Maddie's ok bud, she's just sleeping." I try to tell him, but he won't calm down, his face is still panicked and he is pointing for her. "Do you want to check on her?" and he nods his head vigorously. We walk into the room and let him peak into her Moses Basket. After the reassurance that she is just sleeping and multiple kisses given to her head, he quiets down and let's his daddy put him back to bed.
At twenty months old my son shows more empathy than most adults I know. And for his sister- that might just be one for the books. The night ended with my husband trying to talk tonTucker some more as they lay in Tuck's big boy bed together. Tucker put his tiny hand on his daddy's face and turned it so that they were eye to eye. He put his finger to his daddy's lips until there was no longer any talking and then patted his daddy's cheeks.
Is there anything sweeter than that?
