Aloe & Moss

Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of the last time I gave birth.  It was only 11 months after my first baby was born.  Alex’s delivery was long and complicated.  Isabella’s went by in a flash.  I surmise it was because I’d just been through it and my body didn’t forget.  I was in the hospital bed and the nurses were yelling at me “don’t push!  We don’t have a doctor yet!”  and I was yelling back “I have to push!  I can’t not push!”  Up until that moment, I thought that all of the movies that included delivering mothers yelling “I have to push!” was not a real thing.  I was wrong.  It is a thing.  A doctor did arrive in time with a brand new intern that had never been to a delivery before.  Isabella was born, he held the fresh infant and said, probably to no on in particular, “What do I do now?”

“Give her to me”

I have always wondered about that young doctor and what he thought of his first birth.  I wonder if he thinks about the so tiny baby he was the first to hold.  I wonder if he ever tells the story about his first delivery and realizing his school taught him everything to do during a birth except what to do with a baby right after the APGAR score was tallied.  Some things you learn on the job.

A couple of weeks ago, a point was brought up in my sad parents group.  I’ve not been able to shake it.  Mostly because I’ve been working through my feelings on this blog, and our formidable leader summed up this entire year’s worth of blog posts in one, quick thought

Her absence is the presence in my life.

She’s still here, she’s all around me.  She’s present in everything I do.  Every worry I have.  Every celebration and laughing fit.  She’s with me every time I cry in the car or walk down the stairs backwards (because my new fun fear-turned-obsession is falling down stairs, dying, and then leaving Alex all alone).

Her absence is the presence in my life.

I went to sad parents group today armed with two dozen amazing cupcakes for her birthday tomorrow (she shares October 18th with another baby in our group… Even though Scarlett’s parents weren’t attending tonight, I reminded everyone both birthdays were tomorrow).   We had the cakes because even though my baby is gone, she still has a birthday.  Tomorrow, we’ll have a birthday dinner with my parents.  We’ll have tacos because even though she’s not there, she is a part of our lives, and everyone gets a fun dinner for their birthday.

The brand new doctor that delivered Isabella will never know how life turned out.  But she will always be present in his life.  I’m certain she helped shape it.  Her absence in his life was still a sort of presence.

One day, when I am aged into a thick number of years, I will close my eyes for the last time and I will see her again and all of the times in my life when I called out to no one in particular “Give her to me” I will get her back.  She will be present again.