The gift of the sun. How I traded independence for bottles and diapers
Strange tingling in the lower abdomen ... I hope this is not what I'm afraid of. After all, I'm still so young and impetuous. Is it really necessary to exchange independence for bottles and diapers?
- Next! - calls the nurse.
“There is a pregnancy,” the doctor confidently concludes after the examination.
Where does this unexpected surge of immense joy come from? I wander around the green square. The July morning breeze nicely flirts with my hairdo. In the soul the same harmony as in well-groomed trees, peacefully rustling foliage. How easy and simple: I will have a baby! I can not believe that I did not allow the possibility of motherhood in the coming years. Only the arguments for come to mind. We'll have to hurry with the wedding, and in fact soon the defense of the thesis. But I see all these events through the prism of self-awareness as a future mother. The child in me is the meaning of all my actions and, by and large, my life.
... Finally, all the formalities are settled, and I can calmly wait for your birth, my baby.
... I am lying under another drip. Frozen maple branches sadly look out of the hospital window, casting depressing thoughts. Will my baby survive if childbirth begins? Not yet eight months. Lord, if only the baby was born alive. I will not bear his loss. I just will not, I turn into a pile of broken glass.
Why are these tears? Day after day, by careful steps, I am approaching the end of a complicated pregnancy. In the evenings I go through tiny caps and underclothes and, listening to demanding movements inside, I stroke my bulging belly.
... I stand by the window of the prenatal ward and occasionally wrinkle from the still painful pain. Today I will become a mom or ... No, everything will be resolved safely. Even the weather predicts a happy outcome. A fresh, frosty day gives hope, and silver snow whirls around optimistically in the guise of the February sun.
A new fight takes away the strength to admire nature and makes you lie down. Holding back so as not to scream becomes more difficult. Does my loving husband guess how hard it is for me now? But even being near, he could not ease my pain. No one can pass this female exam for me and accept my fate. "One, two ... thirty-nine, forty ...". I'm dying! But millions of pregnant women endured the same tests. Dying in travails, the woman is resurrected from the cry of the creature that came out of her to look at the world.
Fight cruelly rolled in a merciless wave, trying to crush. Almost destroying, the pain recedes, giving breathe hope for relief. I do not have time to rest, but the next wave of torment is approaching, threatening to kill me. How many hours do I lie on this chair? Attempt after attempt, sharp exhalations following deep breaths, rigid instructions of the midwife, one after the other: “Push! Relax! Push! ”
I already perceive nothing at all. A mass of wild thoughts dancing mad dance in a blurred mind. Baby, dear, get out soon, free me from the hellish torture! After a sleepless night, more than anything, I want the pain to recede, everyone left me alone and let me sleep.
Cold water splashed into my face makes me think of my duty.
- Work! The head is already visible! Come on, come on! - the doctor sharply raises my head, but instead of an energetic exhalation, a desperate growl comes out of me. Before my eyes, huge surgical scissors slowly float without causing fear: let them cut me all, but speed up the end of unbearable suffering.
- Baby under pressure! Try for the last time!
My impotence makes the child suffer! Collecting the pitiful remnants of power, I firmly grip the handrails, straining and pushing out a heavy exhalation. A desperate cry fills the space. I vaguely distinguish a white squealing creature with a long navel. Joy, relief, self-pity overwhelm me, and sudden sobs shake the exhausted body. I seem to see myself from above: naked, wet, shaking from tears and chills.
- Sew a cross or satin stitch? - the doctor jokes, piercing me with a sharp needle. I make weak moans. A pediatrician puts a baby to my chest. I look at the slippery worm with the swollen eyes and smile wearily. However, I do not feel the expected tide of maternal tenderness. A midwife points to a birthmark on the back of a boy: “If you believe, you will accept a big man.”
And now we have six months. Six months of washes, feedings and nighttime lulling. Six months of joy and endless tenderness. This time I managed to give me a lot of unique moments: the first smile, the first “agu” - but will you list everything. I will not forget how you, my gift of the sun, laughed for the first time, and my chest laughter spread with a ringing bell, touching with purity and boundlessness. Sometimes I do not believe in my motherly happiness, sneak up on your bed and peer into the sleeping face. Pink eyelids twitch a little, and an insatiable mouth makes sucking movements even in sleep.
Here is a naughty sunbeam nestled on a soft cheek, and the infant smile slipped on plump lips. Perhaps it was the angels who lit up your sinless dream. Oh, who woke up here? Taking you in my arms, I kiss the sweet dimple on your chin. Hiding his face in his bare, soft tummy, choking with happiness. You laugh, squinting blue little eyes and waving his arms amusingly. Not enough of all the words in the world to convey the fullness of my love for you, my adorable little flower. You are the most amazing miracle that could happen to me. You are my greatest good fortune. I love you, son!