The Best of Times. The Worst of Times.

The best:  Tears in my husbands eyes when we were told it was a boy.  He squeezed my hand and we sat quietly for a moment, letting it sink in.

The worst: End of the third trimester. My hips hurt so much I couldn’t walk down the stairs.  I would get up in the middle of the night, hobble downstairs and cry.

The best: While in labour I stood in my shower staring closely at the little droplets of water that formed on the shower curtain.  In the final stage I was so calm, letting the contractions wash over me while I swayed slowly in the water.

The worst: The hemorrhoids. No one warned me about the hemorrhoids.

The best: A few hours after he was born.  I lay in bed, breathing, unable to fully process what happened.  I’ve never felt so alive, like I could do anything.

The worst: He was two days old. I was relaxing in bed, he was in the bassinet next to me.  I heard a strange gargle and looked over to see him rigid and purple.  I screamed for my husband.  He came running, picked up the baby and patted his back.  His breathing resumed, but I was inconsolable.  I couldn’t sleep for weeks after that.

The best: First time we were able to properly nurse laying down.  I was half asleep and my son, who was only a few weeks old, scooted close to me and latched.  I dozed while he nursed and then we drifted back to sleep.

The worst: It was 4 am and he would not latch.  He kept trying and it kept hurting.  He was screaming, I was crying.  All I could think was, I don’t want to do this anymore.

The best:  Nursing him to sleep in the bed when he was three months old.  He unlatched and lay his head on my chest.  I closed my eyes, ready to drift off.  I felt him stir and when I looked down he was looking right up at me with the cheekiest grin on his face. He lay his head back down and fell asleep.

The worst: Up all night.  See my husband walk by the bedroom door at 6 am and I am near tears, exhausted.  I ask him to take the baby.  He says he can’t.  I had never felt so alone.

The best: At six months he slept through the night.  My husband and I awoke to silence.  We enjoyed a quiet coffee together until we both got worried.  We went into his room together, he laid his hand on the baby’s chest and our son opened his eyes and smiled up at us.

The worst:  The night my husband asked me if I wanted to get a divorce.

The best: The night we decided to have another baby.

The highest highs.  The lowest lows.

 

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