Tim came into the room with me and helped me get undressed. Of course, he is always willing to do that. Only this time it was for a different reason than usual.
I was about to give birth to our baby.
It was our second baby boy’s birthday and I was both excited, full of anticipation and extremely nervous.
Today was the first time I would ever have surgery.
See when my first son, Ben, was born things did not go so well the traditional way. I ended up scarred in more ways than one and this time around I decided to add another scar, one that hopefully would not be so painful.
After I changed into my hospital gown and was asked a myriad of questions about my health and previous pregnancies I was relieved to see my mother enter the room. Her sweet smile was spread across her face and I almost started to cry at the sight of her.
She leaned over to hug me and her arms around me felt so good. I was just so happy that she and my Dad were there. We chatted while we waited for the nurse to return and my tummy did flip-flops as I thought of the things to come which I really knew nothing of. I tried to take deep breaths and remain calm as the sunlight from the window streamed into the room.
From the 4th floor I could see all the “tiny” little people out there, going about their daily business, none of them not about to be cut open, like me.
The nurse soon returned, ready with her arsenal of I.V. supplies and even though I had one before when Ben was born, I could not really remember the feeling. As the nurse started to insert the needle I felt myself getting light-headed and I began to pass out.
I remember my mother making a swift exit and saying something like “Maybe I should go now”. But I wanted her to stay and I was not able to say the words, “please don’t go, Mommy, I need you here”. And just like that, she was gone from the room. Tim was still there but it was different. I wanted her too.
I did not see her again until after my baby Gavin was born and I was in recovery.
I do not know for sure why she left, maybe because she felt uncomfortable or perhaps she did not want to be in the way at all. Or possibly she just did not want to see them put a needle in her own baby’s arm. Either way, she was gone when I wanted her there so badly and could not tell her.
The truth is, no matter how old we grow or mature we are, we still need our Mothers, and I believe epecially when becoming mothers ourselves.
Our mothers embody the love and support that we have known from the very beginning of our lives. And they love us like no one else on the planet. They know things about us that no one else knows and they hold all the memories and hours of mothering on their hearts like hash marks. And the eternal child in us recognizes this and wants them to stay close, especially at times like these.
I know this, because I am a mother now.
I want to say, I am not, nor was I ever, upset with my Mom for leaving the room at that moment. But sometimes when I think about it, I still really wish she would have stayed.
p.s. I just want to say that many times I am inspired to write more and better by my three roommates from BlogHer this last year, Jennifer, Erin and Tracy. They make me want to write my words, both present and past. Thank you ladies for your words and inspiration. xo