The love in my heart multiplied itself by two!

At a funeral home, bidding goodbye to a dear old soul, a ripping, SEARING pain tears across my lower abdomen. The baby inside seems active enough, but, I'm scared. An emergency trip to the OB ward at the local hospital reveals a healthy baby, and a torn ligament ~ not stretched, torn! How does that happen? The nurses are even stumped. Also revealed: the healthy baby does not have a penis.

It's a GIRL! My heart poured fourth again, into the tiny soul, dancing under my own ~ my daughter. Up until now, it had been fairly owned by the tow-headed two year old Alex. Upon finding out I was pregnant again, I loved the little being, but was too busy to give it as much thought and attention as my first little fetus. Laying in the dark room, tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized that I'd have the honor of tea parties and Easter dresses, Prom pictures and Wedding cakes. Pink!! My favorite color!

Fast forward two months. I tried a different hospital this time, a female OB. Surely she would understand what birth was supposed to be. I had been naive my first time around, but, this time, I had read, educated myself, attended independent childbirth classes! She perused my birth plan (big stuff, 12 years ago!) and said the words they all say "As long as everything goes well, you can do anything you'd like." I believed her. She was even a red-head. We were practically soul mates!

HA! Laying in a bed, realizing that the doctor was only coming for the last five minutes, I gripped the bar, and pushed my (first) husband away. No pain medicine was my goal, and I fought my way through each wave that slammed into me alone. No one understood, no one supported me. I wondered what the hell I was thinking! Why did I even want another baby? What would this do to poor little Alex, being displaced as my only love?

Blessedly, the labor was fast, and pushing felt SO good. I tried an alternative position, and was slammed onto my back by the nurse, as the doctor yelled "I can't deliver your baby like THIS!" My little girl slid from my body as my legs were restrained from kicking her red head into the wall. It felt so good! Reminding the nurses that I wanted her immediately did no good. They whisked her lustily wailing little body over to the warmer, and proceeded to wipe her, inject her and suction her with the blue bulb. Finally, she was burritoed up and handed back. Angrily glaring, I unwrapped her, and put her on my naked belly, guiding her lips to my nipple. Then, the intense moment melted away. Once again, there were only two people, only one need: this precious girl . I drank every detail of her in, as she greedily nursed.

She weighed 6 pounds, but was only 17 inches long, so she was chubby! She was also the most beautiful girl ever to bless the Earth with her presence. Loud. My stars, was she loud! For those of you that gave birth in hospitals, you'll know that on every floor, at every birth, there is that one baby that you hear and say "Man, I'm glad I'm not taking THAT one home". 'That one' was mine ~ and I loved her spirit. She was born into an angry, fighting environment, and I spent the next hours making sure all was calm and peaceful for her, even if it meant being the laughingstock of the maternity ward.

Kensley's birthday isn't until June; she'll be twelve then. She's always been so sweet, so caring. The littlest one in any class, the one everyone wanted to sit beside. Her kindergarten teacher actually kept a cup of student names, and drew from it each day to see who got to sit beside Kensley for circle time. My tiny dancer, aggressive soccer player, creator of masterpieces and second mother to her baby brother. My daughter. My heart, multiplied :)

My heart

There is no sweeter pleasure in life, in my opinion, than a newly born babe in your arms. Newborns are my very favorite people; slimy, cheesy, sometimes bloody, fresh from the vagina newborns. I have been blessed to find my path in life that brings me to many of them. People just a few seconds old have passed into my hands, however briefly, for their mamas to resituate, to recover, to learn to pass them to dad.

Tomorrow, my Alex is turning 15, at precisely 1:59 pm. As if it were yesterday, I can see his milky blue eyes looking into mine as if to say "WTH??!! What's up with this? I didn't ask for this!" Being a first time mom, I didn't question the doctor who said "They'll take him to the nursery, clean him up, warm him, and bring him back". It was as if someone had taken my heart to the nursery. Dragging my leaky, exhausted body out of the bed, I trudged down the hall, leaving quite the messy trail, to reclaim 'my heart'. "He's not breathing well, we need to keep him" the nurse stated, fully expecting me to retreat. I pushed past her, and positioned myself by the warmer. Eventually, they gave up, put a towel under my feet, and left me alone. After they were satisfied that he would inhale and exhale, they were glad to be rid of the pair of us.

Back in the room, a little delayed, I put his skin to mine and drank his presence into my soul. Never had I loved anyone like I loved this 6 pounds of boy. My heart tore open, and love reserved for just Alex poured into his being. We were the only people on the planet...in the universe. Only we existed. Air and water took on secondary importance in my life. The nurses were unable to remove him from my body, no matter what policies they stated. I was a mom; I was Alex's mommy.

I am still Alex's mom, even though he resents my position rather than delights in it. I am learning to let go of this amazing person a little at a time, and pull him back when necessary. Sometimes, at night, when I go into his room and check on him (to be sure he hasn't snuck out to TP the principal's house, more than to be sure he's covered and breathing), I can still catch a glimpse of that tiny baby who, alone, ruled my heart so many years ago.

Happy birthday, Alex. I am proud of the young man you are becoming, and still love you with all of my heart ~