The day Sydney was born will be one of those days I relive in my mind over and over. Everything about her birth was perfect: the room, my nurses, the epidural, how fast she popped out, my recovery period… not to mention the overwhelming adoration and joy I felt over holding her in my arms and marveling at this perfect creature that I made. Even Justin being deployed couldn’t ruin it– we knew he would be home soon, and we still reveled in the feeling of completeness for our family, even 10,000 miles apart.
Take that rosy picture, do a complete 180 degree turn, and that’s what it felt like the day I had Jackson. Nothing was right. Everything felt off center.
It sounds insane, but I honestly had this dark cloud hanging over me the whole time. I tried to push it away, tried to look happy and force myself to enjoy the day. I was supposed to be having my second child, I scolded myself. Smile, dammit!
Call it mother’s intuition (which I firmly, and 100% believe in), call it whatever you want– I just knew something was wrong.
And, it was. It has been. It’s been all wrong. All of it. Every moment of his short little life has felt wrong, off, nightmare-ish.
Today, even though I was a complete anxiety-riddled mess last night, and even worse this morning in the waiting room, today he is one step closer to being the Jackson he is supposed to be.
The Jackson who doesn’t have his intestines poking between his abdominal walls. The Jackson who doesn’t breath at an alarming rate. The Jackson who doesn’t have a massive hole in his heart.
No, we’re one step closer to the real thing. My little Jack with his sweet little hand, and his one kick-ass kidney. Those are the only permanent things he is supposed to have.
The circumstances surrounding his birth were wrong, and the things he has had to endure are wrong. HE is perfect, though, and I can’t wait for the first day we spend together outside the walls of this hospital.
It’s gonna be awesome.