But I look at you, warm in your dream while your mobile dances above… And I think to myself, it’s a beautiful night and I know everything is gonna be alright….
The thing about having children is, you go your entire pregnancy wanting the child out of you and then you spend their whole life wanting them back safely, inside. I agonized for about a week over the fact that my daughter is going on vacation tomorrow. She is going without me.
My parents wanted a grandparent/grandchild trip and to put it lightly, my daughter is extremely fond of her grandparents. Maybe it’s because my parents, (who have eyes like eagles, the patience of two Mother Theresas and the fun-o-meter of candy for dinner mixed with ice cream for dessert,) but the fact that I won’t be there should something go horribly, horribly wrong is taking it’s toll. I packed her identification card, medical card and 6 phone numbers to call should something happen. I bagged each pair of sweet, five year old socks with each outfit and clipped the hairclips to collars. If there was a way to plan each moment she was without me, I did that and then some.
I sat her down tonight as her legs danged over the couch and her head rested on my left shoulder. A couple minutes came and went, we didn’t say much- we just felt each other near. She’s getting too big for my lap when I’m reading while still being entirely too small to be halfway around the nation. Somehow, I know her head will always fit in the space where I used to whisper in her ear that she would take on the world, cure diseases and hopefully, not break too many hearts. The space between us then, was immeasurably small.
Those of you who have been following GMG from the Livejournal days know this is the song I played before I went to be induced and to have a 7lbs 10oz’s of utter greatness. I had my pick of songs but I wanted one song to go with the moment and for some reason, this is exactly the one I believed was most fitting. When we become a parent, (no matter the circumstances,) at first we wonder how we are going to make it through. When you are a parent, you wonder how you can LET GO.
I found the old post tonight and was surprised at how scared I really was when I went into the hospital. Ironically, it matches my fear tonight that things will change radically and I’ll lose everything I know. Two songs, two very different women. One, beautiful, beautiful, little girl.
My goodbye of sorts to the single life I’ve known.
Spent most the day in a haze, really unable to comprehend exactly what is about to happen. I pack my bags once again- adding the nessesities I almost forgot. Double check for the ninth-hundred time… yes- I have my insurance card/camera/cds/strength/lonliness/regrets I have it all.
I feel the roundness of my stomach, as the shirt falls on my shoulders and I pull downwards. I pull on the pants under my waist- and for a moment, I sit with my hand on my stomach- where will it go now? Will I unexpectly touch where she used to sleep? What if her ‘safe haven,’ just wasn’t save enough?
The words to ‘Holiday in Spain’ float through my head as I sit and remember the ‘past life.’ I leave my wings behind me now. They are placed on a table for her arrival. I’ve used them and flown nowhere. I have no great feats or adventures for my daughter to tell stories of. I have enough use in my wings so that she can borrow them until she grows her own- I won’t be needing these things anymore… it’s a bit tragic, a bit sad- but maybe she’ll give my wings their justice.
She gains my independance, and my wings- I loose him, or the lasting piece of him that stayed for 9 months as he never called . It’s a trade I’m willing to make. I keep telling myself- it’s BLOOD Katie- nothing more than red cells and white cells- fighters and healers-it’s just another thing that comes when we are hurt- it seeps… it stings… but it’s nothing that matters in the long run. She’s taken all of him within herself. When she comes- I am seperated. I am myself again… and I am whole.
I am going to sleep in a bed I don’t own. I put my clothes in my grandmother’s dresser, and I pack my mother’s luggage to sit by the door. I will drive my car to be induced tomorrow morning, and I will have my headphones and cds- and I will sit in Labor and Delivery until I think it’s actually worth calling people about. I will be alone, just her and myself- I promise myself I won’t do comparisons to those around me- the happy parents… the proud grandparents- the nervous fathers. I will sit, and I will listen to the music that I’ve planned out for 9 months in my head.
So this is your mother, Ava. She has borrowed even the luggage for when you come. She borrowed a fool’s pride, and the resentment that goes along with being a single mother. But she’s here and she’s ready