The Biggest Impact

In a self-improvement class I recently failed, we were asked to write about the moment that had the biggest impact on our lives. This is what I wrote.

“Don’t you want to hold him?”

If he asked me that one more time, I would kick him. Even in the compromising and restrained position, I still could have mustered up enough strength to break a leg free and get him in the head.

The nurse had picked up on my frame of mind and offered him instead to his father. And he was panicked - holding him like one would a tray of food, in sort of half-outstretched arms away from his chest, as if to make sure he wasn’t fully committing to the responsibility. (A sign of things to come.)

He kept looking at me disapprovingly, too. I was the mother, after all. I should want to slobber all over him. Of course I would. Any mother would. But I didn’t.

I was given the aftermath treatment while the nurse retrieved him from Dad to wrap him in fresh blankets and top him off with a baby-blue knit hat. Then, she gingerly set him down beside me on the bed. “Why don’t ya’ll just sit by each other for a little bit”, she suggested. He looked like a tiny doll of a person with closed eyes that were more like two slits between red, flaky, wrinkled fleshy cheeks. And it didn’t move. In fact, it seemed barely alive. This was it? All that pain? All those months? For this? I felt nothing.

Then, we were wheeled back to our room and forced into a whir of activity, with nurses from every direction bringing me baby this after baby that, each with long lists and instructions.

Just when I thought it was over, Nurse Evil #8000 came in with feeding supplies. “Okay, here we go!! Baby’s first bottle!!! You ready?”

I raised my eyebrows to question her sanity, and the bitch snickered. I swear she did. She said, “Aw, you two will be just fine. Have fun!” And she left!! Imagine. It’s like she didn’t care one bit about this baby.

We were alone. Dad had gone to make phone calls or watch TV or who knows what. It was just us. (Second sign of the life to come.) And still, I felt nothing. He drank the whole bottle, never moving or opening his eyes. I fell asleep, too, but I must have had the decency to hold onto him, because when someone came to whisk him off to officially be registered with the human race, neither of us had moved. (Not that he could’ve gone far on his own – I just mean that he wasn’t on the floor in a puddle of head injury blood or anything.)

“You’re taking him away?” I asked, trying not to sound excited.

“Yes, dear, but just for a few minutes,” she said.

“Oh, no hurry,” I said on the outside. “Kidnap him. In the name of all that is decent and holy, I’m begging you to kidnap him,” I screamed on the inside.

I was alone. I could breathe. I felt like my normal self again. I wanted to go home. Well, I actually wanted to turn back time, but going home was second best. And just as I began to feel comfortable again, here he came, still wrapped like a big ol’ sausage rolling around in his shiny acrylic cart.

“Back so soon?” I asked.

This nurse just ignored me - didn’t even have the decency to snicker like the other one. He, on the other hand, tilted his head toward me, opened his eyes, smiled, and then laughed. Laughed! The outside world would say this was gas or some other bodily fluke, but, for me, it was just what I needed. I am still convinced that this kid totally got the sarcasm. He was letting me know that he wasn’t any happier about this situation than I was and, had he been born 50 and Don Rickles, would’ve sniped, “Seriously? Her again? I’m going to need to talk to somebody about this.”

In that flicker of a moment, we connected. I was his, and he was suddenly mine. All mine and just mine. He would become the love of my life, and I would become his mom. Whether we liked it or not.

Comments

[Dannie]

First, everyone who writes of their experiences deserve a comment!! Writing doesn't come easy and one wonders if contact is being made with anyone at all.

I have never been a single mom but have had the new baby experience five times and couldn't resist joining in. Its been 66 years since that first "new baby" contact in my life. In a naval hospital crammed full of new babies and operated with precise militery regulations, my little stranger was brought in with no instrutions for handling. So here I was, eighteen, had held only one baby in my life, this hungry bit of life was left in my arms.
I believe there were four new mothers in each room, three of us dummies and the other, a mother with years of experience behind her. She talked us through our inexperience. Kinda. In those days and according to the navy, new mothers got out of bed about the 5th or 6th day, walked a few steps about two days later, were allowed to go home on the tenth day (if you had help), otherwise it was the 12th. Of course we lied and got packed in the transport carrier with three other pairs and away we went , finally out of the navy's control. Guess whose beautiful child cried the entire 30 miles. And cried until twelve o'clock that night. I was frantic. I expect the neighbors were also. How I wished for one of those busy nurses to be there to take this squalling baby away.

And all those lovely, terrible, unforgettable and wonderful years were yet to come!

[Ms.PSM]

Dannie!

Thank you for sharing your experience with your first baby at age 18!! My gosh, how times have changed. I think mothers are lucky to spend one night in the hospital now.

30 miles on a transport carrier with a crying baby!! Now, that builds character, doesn't it? :)

But you're so right. Those nurses were godsends. I just wished, at the time, that they had taken him for longer periods of time that first day. LOL!!! Horrible mother that I was.

Thank you again for reading and commenting!

Karen