You just saw his sweet little face and smelled his sweet little head, but they had to rush him away. There were complications. You would give anything for him to go back inside and stay a little longer. You long to make the impossible possible for this new little love of your life. You’re so excited to see him but so scared that he’s here so soon.
You never knew that sorrow and joy could mesh together quite like this.
Your insides feel like they are pulling themselves apart, everything inside you is at war with itself. Bring him back, please bring him back you repeat in your head over and over again. You feel like no one’s listening to you, no one understands. Your body is responding the way it’s supposed to—you’re longing for your baby more than you’ve ever longed for anything in your life. You can feel your heart shattering into a million pieces onto the floor.
You never knew what heartbreak really was until this.
You want to scream at the doctors to bring him back but you can’t. You know he’s having trouble breathing and you know he needs medical attention. You’re stuck to a cold table while longing to keep him warm. Even though it makes sense in your head, your heart and hormones are telling you otherwise. They’re telling you this is an emergency and you want to beg one of the nurses to bring him back to you and lay him on your chest.
You never knew that loneliness and separation could feel quite like this.
Your body is aching for him. To snuggle in close like he was in your belly only moments ago. To bring him back to the only home he’s ever known. When you hear him cry as they rush him away you’re frantic. You’re scared that he’s scared and dying to go back to you. You are his home.
Your thoughts are racing and saying, He’s mine, he’s part of me, they can’t just take him.
You’re so dizzy and so exhausted. You’re shaking and cold and uncomfortable.
You never knew desperation could feel quite like this.
You could sleep for days but you’re also on high alert. Nothing makes sense anymore. The nurses say you need to sleep but that’s the last thing you can think about doing. He’s gone and you’re belly’s empty. You feel like you’re suffocating, like a part of your momma heart is dying..
No one told you it would feel like this. Nothing in your entire life prepared you for this.
Nothing went the way you imagined it. Your birth plan might as well have been put through the paper shredder.
You imagined yourself smiling at the sight of his sweet little mass of mangled baby hair, tiny toes, and round tummy. You imagined the doctors and nusres smiling as they bundled him up and passed him to you.
You imagined sneaking away to your hospital room all by yourself and just soaking him all in. Never letting him go.
But instead, you are back in your hospital room alone. Hooked up to an uncomfortable breast pump and praying your milk will still come in even though he’s not with you. You long to feed him, and everything hurts. You wonder who’s feeding him and what’s going on. You know it’s not supposed to be like this and you can’t stop crying. You cry until there are no tears left and there are finally a few drops of colostrum in the bottom of the plastic cup.
You pray and beg God to bring him back, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life than you want your baby. You’ve never prayed for anything quite like this.
The nurses try to get you to drink some liquids, but everything tastes like nothing. They give you more pills and try to keep you comfortable. They ask if you are OK. You have never been this far from OK. You are angry that your baby is so far away. You go through every single emotion on a rollercoaster every time they ask you a question. All your brain wants to respond with is please bring him back.
When you are finally allowed to get up and go and see him, it’s through glass. It’s through that glass that you could just stare forever. It’s not like any window you’ve ever looked out of before. You can’t take your eyes off him. He’s your sunrise, your sunset.
He’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
You vow to never take your eyes off him, never sleep again. Your mission at that moment is to watch him breathe forever. He’s covered in wires and tubes. You watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall like it’s what you were born to do. The nurses ask if you need anything but you quickly say no. You have all you need.
You lost yourself on that cold table and in that hospital bed but when you can finally see him, he brings you right back to yourself.