Here is what I wrote in my journal around this time exactly one year ago:
Thursday 8 August, 2014
I feel like this day has passed in ultra-slow motion. It is the day before literally the biggest day of my life and it was so…mundane.
I didn’t sleep well. I got up around 8:30 and made breakfast (english muffin, egg, canadian bacon, avocado, tomatoes, orange juice). I went on a walk to the post office, the bank, the pharmacy, and back home. I showered. I went to town with my friend and her 3 children. I came home. I made a salad for lunch. I ate it. Linda came by to deliver some blankets she made for the baby. I sold some burlap to a lady on Mayberry Swap and Buy. I laid down for a few minutes. Kyle came home. We cooked dinner (ribs and jalapeño poppers, green beans, tomato mozza salad, grapes). Ate dinner while watching a few shows. Then did a couple of chores around the house (rearranging furniture). Tatum and Janelle came by with a hospital care package and had a little chat. I cried. I called my grandma back (she called earlier today) and had a nice little visit with her.
And now I’m sitting here in the living room trying not to freak out about the fact that tomorrow I’m going to have a baby.
But it’s no use. I’m freaking out.
-cpsf
And fifteen hours later I did have that baby.
(Some people don’t like this picture because it shows the blood associated with childbirth. I like it because a) it is real, and b) sometimes when Hutch cries even now, with his eyes swollen and his face so red and sad, he looks exactly like this. Not that I like to see my baby sad, but it’s fascinating that despite all the ways he’s changed, he’s still so much the same as the day he popped out of my nether regions, all 10 pounds 2 ounces of him.)
And one year later we are all still alive. I almost can’t believe it.
This year has been a whirlwind of extremes—sorrows and joys, fears and thrills—and yet I know we haven’t even come close to experiencing all the highs and lows that parenthood has in store for us.
Every night at the end of my prayers I say the same thing:
Thank You for sending us this sweet boy who is such a blessing and a joy in our lives. Please bless that he can continue to grow healthy and strong. Please bless that we can remember to be patient with him, and that we can make good choices for him until he is able to make good choices for himself. (And please help him make them—good choices, that is—when the time comes.)
And most of all please bless him not to die.
Amen.
