Actually it was the day after, but that made a more compelling title for the post. I remember being overcome with sadness at the thought of her ever leaving me. I envisioned the day she moved out and I wept as I held her little pink body squirming to break free of its tightly wrapped swaddling. For years I told that story and laughed at my maternal newbie foolishness. Some said it must have been a touch of post-partum depression. For me it felt more like a grief I could only know through experience. And of course logically that couldn't be so as she was my firstborn. In this lifetime anyway.
Pain is something I'd grow to recognize as a recurring theme in raising Maria. This baby could CRY. Even the nurses in the hospital raised an eyebrow at the fierceness of this 6 lb. 10 oz. bundle of........power. In fact, I later learned through my husband something they didn't dare tell me in the hospital. Maria had cried so hard at one point that she stopped breathing. I suppose they didn't want to scare me.
The first 9 months at home with her were a blur. Days were nights and nights became days as I fought for sleep and sanity. I loved this child with all my might but she did not seem to be loving life very much. The physical force of her incessant crying caused one of her ovaries to pop through a weakness in her intestinal wall. She'd given herself a hernia. The doctor taught us how to gently coax it back in, which worked, until it didn't.
It had been my turn to get out of the house. Jeff (now my ex) stayed with Maria while I went to a family wedding. I had to squeeze in my outing between breastfeedings. Just when I started to enjoy a half normal life at the reception there was a phone call from Jeff. He couldn't take Maria's crying anymore, plus her hernia wouldn't go back in.
I rushed home to relieve him. An hour later we were at the emergency room. Our 9 month old baby girl had to have surgery to save her ovary. Do you know what it's like to watch a nurse carry your baby girl through those double doors that lead to the land of stainless steel, masks, anaesthesia, and the unknown?
Her father and I sat in dead silence in the waiting room blindsided by the cold harshness of life.
Once we learned that all went well, Jeff went home and I slept on a cot beside her crib in the hospital. My poor baby. But I noticed one amazing thing. She.....was.....quiet.
The next day she was quiet too. And we thought perhaps the pain from the hernia had been the problem all along. It was on this day that I first got to watch more than 15 minutes of tv without having to attend to my baby's crying. I did the happy dance. I may have even had sex!
However, the following day the last of the anaesthesia from her surgery wore off. Testing times returned and I endured with the patience of a saint. I was a perfectionist in those days and I believe that is what gave me the determination and strength to succeed in being a good mom. I would not fail. I persisted 24/7 with little relief, and Maria took all of my energy. I was a stay-at-home mom at the time, but believe you me, there were many days I longed to be the one who got to leave the house from 9-5:00.
Family members sympathized. Only 2 people had the courage to babysit my little crying cupcake, so we didn't get out much. No one could quite understand why Maria was so unhappy. The crying was maddening at times. I said it then and I say it now: God gave her to me because anyone else would have killed her.
But was it going to kill me?
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