I've been meaning to post Lucas's birth story. It's pretty amusing. At least I think so. But so far I've been resisting. And yesterday I realized why.
Yes, in retrospect, I can laugh about the whole adventure the day Lucas was born, but deep down I'm mad about it.
I'm mad that I didn't know it was going to happen.
I'm mad I didn't get to enjoy our last few days of being a family of four.
I hate that we didn't adequately prepare the kids, it's been a tough transition for them.
I hate that stress is an emotion I associate with his birth. Stress and fear.
Being separated from Lucas and unable to hold him was awful. I didn't get to see him (except for very briefly in the OR) until about 5 hours after he was born. It was 1:00 am, and I made the nurse get me out of bed and wheel me to the NICU. I paid for it pain-wise, but it was worth it. I got to hold his hand and marvel over him for 30 minutes, uninterrupted.
I don't like how unprepared we were. And how that is still spilling over into our lives today. Chaos reigns in our house right now and it makes me itchy.
I wish I had been able to mentally prepare for Lucas's birth. Enjoy those last few days feeling him move. Loving that he was still all mine for the moment.
Today was supposed to be Lucas's birthday, and as we cuddled after an early morning feeding I sat and stared at him. It was very close to the time when he would have been born and it was just me and him, sitting in the dark hours of the morning.
I watched as his tiny lips kept drawing up into a smile. I listened as contented little sighs escaped him. I felt his warmth and breathed in his delightful new baby smell. And I realized he was perfect.
And what's more, his arrival into this world was perfect. After all, it's his story and not mine. And I need to be delighted that he's here without dwelling on what should have been.
So a very Merry Unbirthday to you, Lucas. Here's to many more Unbirthdays to come.