Before Liam was born, I was in the middle of one of the busiest seasons of my life. Ryan and I had not been married for very long and we had just bought a house. I was attending school an hour and a half away from home and would drive to and from classes 2-3 days a week and I had a lot of homework. I was also working and I was pregnant and I was exhausted. I often felt like I was barely treading water. One morning, I arranged to go into work late because I had a doctor's appointment. Liam wasn't growing properly and we were sent to the high risk doctor to figure out why. During that appointment, I was sent to the hospital for observation and I called to let my boss know that would probably not make it in that day. I thought we would be in and out and life would return to its normal lightening speed. And then...Liam was born and my world came screeching to a sudden halt. I remember marveling at how just a couple of phone calls and emails could make my entire life disappear. Every worry, responsibility, and obligation was instantly erased. From that moment on there was only waiting... and Liam. I could not drive for several weeks and so there were many days that I would sit at home and wait for Ryan to get off of work so we could go to the NICU. I remember one particular day I spent sitting in our overstuffed recliner for hours. I stared at the bookshelf beside me, telling myself I was going to pick a book out and I was going to read it because I had time to do that sort of thing now. But I never did. I just sat there, my legs tucked up underneath me, and I prayed....sort of. I would like to lie and say that I prayed the prayers of a good and faithful human being... but I can't because I did not. Instead, I let God know that if he let anything happen to this baby, I would hate him forever... and then I begged for the baby to die now, right now, before I really knew him and loved him and if God could do that for me, if he gave me that, I would still hate him.... but maybe not as much. Yeah, it was ugly. At that point in my life, I could not imagine anything more traumatic than Liam's birth and hospital stay. Now, I can. Seven years later, and that time in my life barely ranks on the Awful Things radar at all. This is partially because far worse things have happened and this is partially because.... Liam. If there is anything at all to say about Liam it is that he is worth it. He is worth every ugly tear I cried over his tiny body. He is worth every moment of sheer terror, desperate longing, overwhelming despair, white hot anger, and crushing love. He is worth every sleepless night and every early morning. He is worth every doubt, insecurity, and utter failure I experienced as I learned to be his Mama. And these days... he is worth every eye roll and flounce and slammed door and insult he can throw at us. He is worth every angry word and reluctant apology. He is worth the exhaustion and the confusion and the frustration.... because in every single moment in between all of that, and sometimes even right in the middle of it, I look at this boy of mine and I see pure magic. He is magic. Liam never asks to be held any longer. Not even when his legs are so tired and we have been walking forever. He used to lean his belly against my legs with his arms stretched up to me a thousand times a day, but he does not do that any longer. Not ever. Liam is shy now. He resents the attention his blue hair brings him. He mumbles thanks when people comment on it and tries his best to blend into his surroundings. He used to thrive on attention and bask in the glow of people's adoration, but he does not do that any longer either... and it is hard to get used to. He does not want to be kissed and he rarely needs my help getting dressed. He can make himself lunch, brush his own teeth, tie his own shoes. He walks to the neighbor's house alone. He rolls his eyes and sighs, "I know," when I give him instructions- any instructions- because he pretty much has this all figured out already. I know that this is how it is supposed to be and I love it most of the time, but every once in a while I realize that the early days are over now... and they slipped away so quietly that I barely even noticed them go. If I had noticed, I probably would have dug in my heels a little bit and thrown a bit of a tantrum so it is probably better this way, but, every once in a while, the finality of it all takes my breath away. My baby boy is seven years old. I have had to say good-bye to a thousand versions of him already and there are so many, many more to come. I miss him so much I can hardly stand it and I love him so much I can hardly stand it... and I am so grateful that I have been given seven years to be this tortured. I did not deserve it, not even for a minute, but being able to keep this boy for however long he is mine has been the most beautiful and complicated gift I have ever been given... and I still never take a single day of it for granted.
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WHO AM I?
I am Michelle: a wannabe hippie in love with a bonafide geek. We also spawned. I spend my days with our four wild, beautiful boy children and I overshare about our life online because I am a Millennial and that is what we do.
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