Our little Boo arrived early at 38 w+5, much to everyone’s delight. I dreamt of a waterfall and I woke up to a wet bed and even wetter shorts. It wasn’t like Charlotte in Sex & The City , “I think my water’s just broke”. It was “Where did all this water come from? Did my entire bladder just explode?” Scary thing. I drenched 2 pads even before arriving at the hospital.
After 10 hrs of labor and 21 mins of pushing, our little E arrived. I imagined some tears, lots of tears, but what happened felt natural. “Come to mommy”, was all I said, when he was placed on my chest. And that sealed it.
The following 2 weeks were brutal. The french’s obsession with weight gain put additional pressure when E lost weight (natural for a newborn) and my milk didn’t come until day 5. The daily weigh in was stressful, I was scolded by one midwife. I was confused. Everyone were giving different advices, depending who you asked: pediatrician, midwife, or the puéricultrice (pediatric nurse). My mom and mom in law would have other suggestions. I didn’t know what to do when E cried, nor the reason behind it. I gave all of me and nothing seemed enough. I remember crying alot those days. I remember having lots of misplaced anger, everyone were having a regal time with him while I crawled from feeding him then expressing my milk then it’s time to feed him again.
Then one morning, I woke up with clarity in my mind. I gave birth to him, I know him eversince he was still inside me. I know his kicks, his hiccups, and his temperament. I know him better than anyone. I just do. With that, I throw away everything I have read or heard. I start anew. And ever since, E’s weight slowly climbed back up. On Monday we were officially “cleared” by the midwife who has been following us since E left hospital. His next health check up will be done by a pediatrician in 2 weeks time.
“I like seeing you like this,” H said this morning when he saw me lying down with E sleeping peacefully on my chest.
And now there are three of us.