Ugh. I'd forgotten the rollercoaster ride of hormonal emotions that happen right after you have a baby. I am a weepy mess.
This morning, I was in the living room, holding The Bug while The Boo rocked in her little chair. "Light Up My Room" by BNL was playing and we were all swaying back and forth to the music. The sun was streaming thru the windows and for one blissful moment, everything was perfect. Then The Beach Boys "God Only Knows" came on and wham! I looked at my two girls and just lost it.
I remember feeling this way right after my other children were born, too. I'd look at that little sleeping face and my heart would just ache and I could barely breathe. It's overwhelming, that love for a child. And it hurts. No one ever told me how much it would hurt. No one told me how ferocious I'd feel about these little creatures, how much I'd worry and obsess and fah-ha-ha-reak out over them.
But I do. I constantly check that The Bug is still breathing. That's my biggest fear right now. I'm such a mess that just the thought of it can make me sob. It's awful. It's not very healthy, but for the moment, I'm chalking this freaking out-edness up to hormones.
I never wanted kids. Really, I didn't. Sounds funny coming from someone with four (holy crap! Four!) kids, but it's true. I got pregnant with A and was prepared to give him up for adoption. I thought it would be the best thing to do, for him and for me. I wasn't married, his dad was not really there and I didn't think I could raise a child by myself. But then he was born and it was like being punched in the gut. I remember the day I was released from the hospital, walking down that hallway with him in his little bassinet and leaving him in the nursery with the social worker. I still don't know how I managed to walk out of that place. It's all a blur. I don't think I've ever had to do anything that difficult. I really thought that I was going to die from the pain of it. I went home and cried for three days and then called the social worker and told her I'd changed my mind. The longing I had to keep him was incredible. I just wanted him - I didn't care that I didn't have much money, I'd figure it out. I hung up the phone and ran out to buy baby stuff and three days after that phone call, I got to pick him up. It was like someone put back the piece of me that was missing.
It's never changed, either. Each child finds their own little space in my heart and makes a warm and cozy nest there. Each time, I wonder why I've let myself become this way, this raw and exposed to the possibility of pain should something, anything, happen to them. Why I've decided to sentence myself to a life time of worry and concern and vulnerability. Don't get me wrong - they are worth it. So, so worth it. But still, there's this part of my brain that says "Why? Why would you do that to yourself?" And I can't really answer it. I wouldn't trade it for anything, I'd do anything to protect my children, but that person who's still inside me, that person who never wanted kids, is still there. And she wonders what the hell happened.