Miss J is almost three years old now. Lately she is in the habit of getting out of her “big girl bed” every night and getting into our bed in the wee hours of the morning. There are times when this irritates me because a good night’s sleep is hard to come by nowadays. But between you and me, I love it. I find myself anticipating her opening the door to our room and climbing into our bed. She inches her little body as close to mine as possible and then says, “hug me mama” and “hold my hand”. While she is sleeping she reaches out a finger to poke me in my face several times during the night to make sure that she can feel me next to her. After about an hour she usually has me in a headlock. I can’t believe how the time has flown. My newborn is now a pre-schooler. But every night, when she crawls into our bed, with her blankie and stuffed animal in tow, I am transported back to the day she was born. Dr. B was right, I did need to be reunited with Miss J after my surgery. For a brief moment while Miss J lay next to me in my hospital bed, I forgot about everything. I couldn’t feel the rush of oxygen going up my nose. I couldn’t hear the sounds of the machines. All of the beeps, bells and alarms were muted. I forgot that I couldn’t raise my arms because I had needles and IV’s in each one. I couldn’t feel the intense pain my body was in. It was difficult to speak and difficult to breathe but I whispered into Miss J’s ear over and over again how much I loved her.
One day Miss J might be embarrassed at all of the stories I have shared with you. She could become a typical teen and not want be in the same room with her parents, let alone cuddle with us. But for now, I am going to savor these moments.
Looking at these pictures is bittersweet.
I know how close I came to not having any of these memories.