I have always been amazed at the miracle of conception and birth. It is so fascinating and just incredible. Now that I have a child of my own, I am even more in awe of the whole thing. The fact that Colton was once this tiny cluster of cells that divided and eventually formed into a baby... it's awesome. Before November 29, 2007 (or thereabouts) he didn't exist. He was just a thought, a dream. And then he was created and became a human being, with all this capacity for learning and potential to do great things.
I am even more amazed and continually thankful that he is healthy. That everything developed over those nine months just as it should. In an earlier post, I mentioned stumbling across a blog of a young mother who lost her newborn son just minutes after he was born because of a rare genetic disorder. Her story has forever changed the way I look at my child. This mom is the same age as me, whose son was due almost three months after Colton. While I was picking out paint and furniture for the nursery, she was choosing a casket and burial plot for her little boy. While I was recognizing my son's two month "birthday", she was grieving the loss of hers and all the birthdays that would never come to pass.
In her writing, she talks about wanting her son's short life here on earth to matter. He may have only lived a mere 16 minutes, but his life did have meaning. It had weight. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for giving me a perfectly healthy son, who hasn't had anything more than a cold since he was born. Yet it can be so easily taken for granted. I know now that some parents don't get to take their babies home from the hospital. That instead of planning for the most wonderful time in their lives, they have to prepare to face the most indescribable grief and pain.
I've been having dreams lately about having a second child. I think my desire to have another baby is finally beginning to outweigh the fear I feel about going through a C-section and possibly PPD again. I think I can do it. When Colton enters the "terrible twos", I might be singing a different tune. But for now, I'm starting to believe everything will be okay the second time around.
I don't know how to explain the discrepancy between the joy I feel at mothering my son and the apprehension I have towards bringing another child into this world. It just doesn't make sense. I can't fully explain all the emotions I had shortly after delivering Colton. All I know is that what should have been one of the most wonderful and special times of my life, wasn't. Instead of feeling like I had added greatly to my life and family, I had a profound sense of loss. I had an overwhelming amount of anxiety about becoming a new mom. I thought anyone would be better able to take care of him than me. I was actually scared to come home on August 16 because it meant I couldn't rely on all the nurses and doctors anymore. Most moms can't wait to be in their own home again!
What I am typing probably doesn't make any sense to those who haven't been through it. I now know the incredible prize that lies on the other side of the depression and anxiety. But when you're in it, you feel like you're never going to get out. It is dark and isolating. I walked into that hospital one way and walked (or was wheeled) out totally another. I don't wish what I felt and experienced on anybody. It happened and I dealt with it, by mostly denying what I was feeling. Despite that, Colton is the best thing that ever happened to me. He is truly a gift from God. My miracle.