The Meaning of Mother - His First Month

Dear Friends and Family,

A precious few times in my life I’ve stared at a clock on the wall and counted down the minutes, holding my breath and wondering what the next few hours were going to be like. I’m not talking about the everyday anticipation; I’m talking about the scary big moments when you know that life as you know it is about to change forever.

As many of you know, one of those moments occurred in September of 2011 when I tearfully faced the reality of giving birth to my son, Corban and losing him that same day. A mother. That’s what I’d become on that day. But I also became the mother to an angel, meaning I’d retired early, been laid off, sent home early.... They have books, blogs, and even TV shows about motherhood, parenting, pregnancy… but nothing was there to prepare me for that moment when God handed me something I didn’t think I could ever swallow or stomach. Nothing except my testimony and the things I’d taught as a missionary. I did a lot of praying and weeping and more praying. I also did a lot of other things.

But this post isn’t about Corban. Well it is and it isn’t.

What I’m trying to say is that I found myself in a hospital room in Labor and Delivery watching a clock again, my heart pounding at the impending delivery of my second child. Giving birth to Corban had prepared me for some things, a year and 5 months of grief hadn’t prepared me for anything beyond about 4:30pm on February 4 of this year. I was going to have a baby. We had his name picked out, we had a nursery packed full of clothes, toys, and stacked to the ceiling zillion diapers that had only increased in size when we found out we were expecting again. Now, as to what we were expecting well, that was a whole different thing altogether.

I mean, I was already a mother. But I had no idea, really, what it was going to be like to have a living, breathing baby in my arms in just a matter of moments.

It actually was about 2 hours later that my living, breathing son, Callan, was placed in my arms. 

[For the sake of not scaring any potential c-section patients and causing the rating of this blog to be raised above PG, I will simply say that I had a c-section, my doctor was amazing and that really, it was a lot better once it was over.]

So, skipping ahead, there I was in the hospital room. Many of the adoring grandparents, aunts and uncles had actually already seen my baby for longer than I got to see him. [Note to future c-section moms: they show you the baby and then they whisk him/her away because your c-section is going to take a while and he/she will catch up to you once the tests and usual stuff is over with. This hiccup of a chance to meet your baby is brief and if you were to blink, you’d have missed half of it.]

Yes, I was a little impatient at that point, but when they opened the door all sounds in the room faded; in fact I had tunnel vision. The nurse lifted little Callan right to me. It was a good thing too; I was about ready to defy science and medicine and get up and grab him. He was in my arms, all soft, cozy and perfect. It was just him and me. And tears too, but I don’t remember when they started.

Callan Everett Kent is 2 hours old. Feb 4, 2013

I held him, wept, kissed him and then let everyone else have a moment or two. I was about ready to leap from my bed and snag him back when the nurse came in, rescuing us all with needing to check on me and the baby. Plus the little guy was hungry and would be needing food. Finally, something that I could do and not have to agonizingly watch and wait as others acted.

So the room emptied. A few things were tested and I held him and tried to feed him. He was tired. Heck, who’s to blame him? He’d just been through quite the ordeal.

Then his doctor arrived. He had tests he needed to do. Could he take my little perfect guy and do them? I said yes. I wanted to say no. But I said yes and smiled and cooed at Callan to let him know it was okay.

And then they took him. They said it would only be an hour. 

It wasn’t.

They moved me out of the recovery room to the room we'd be sharing as a family. It had been an hour and a half and still, Callan wasn't brought to me. I started to itch with nervousness. It felt like someone was pulling on my heart. 

His doctor came and visited me. He didn’t bring Callan with him like he’d promised. No, Callan was going to be staying in the NICU for a couple hours. They had to give him an IV so Callan was admitted to the NICU. 

Again, I was watching a clock and tearfully waiting. I chewed my lips with nervousness. I tried to smile and be happy, but my heart was aching. I wanted to hold my Callan. 

Finally, I got a phone call telling me that Callan was going to stay the night in the NICU. My heart sank.

It was starting to remind me of that day a year and five months earlier. Sure, the doctors were telling me things looked good and not to worry, just that Callan had a few struggles. But I began to wonder. Was God going to take Callan back too? Was all this aching just his way of preparing me for when He'd call little Callan back to heaven?

Callan is 2 days old in the NICU still.

When you are in the hospital and faced with all the emotions of giving birth and then the NICU, you have to be positive. At least, if you are me, then you have to be positive. So I was. I tried to tuck in my lower lip, biting it tight to keep it from quivering. Everything was going to be okay. It had to be. If only I could my heart believe it.

Now, ultimately, it was, but not after 5 and a half days of watching the clock and waiting.

Then we got to take him home!

Home. What a word!

But it wasn’t easy as pie. Nope, not even close.

You see, Callan almost didn’t come home with us as planned that evening. His oxygen levels started to drop the night before and then, when they did the car seat test, the really dipped low. As the guy came to Callan up with an oxygen bottle, Callan’s levels dropped really low. So they decided to send him home with a meter too.

Anyone who has ever experienced this will tell you that an oximeter will drive you completely mad. Well, we didn’t know this. We were naïve to the woes of such things. We had stupidly thought it would give us peace of mind and comfort. Boy were we in for a rude awakening!

The meter kept beeping all the way home which is its way of telling us Callan’s levels were creeping lower and lower. I was crying and praying and trying to comfort Callan. Lifting his chin and talking to him, one eye on him and the other on the meter. His levels dropped so low that I had to bend over (remember, I’d had a c-section) and try to twist the knob to increase the oxygen flow. I was blinded with tears, but he was getting more oxygen. I slowly sat back up and calmed myself.

Then the machine started to beep again.

As we pulled into our garage, I was full on crying. I was a bad mother. No, I was a downright awful, horrid, terrible wretch of an excuse of a mother!

Tyler got Callan, his oxygen and I grabbed the meter and we rushed upstairs to get him out of his car seat. It was the scariest thing of our lives. We were failing miserably. I was so afraid. I just knew we were going to lose him.

Finally, with Callan in my arms the meter stopped beeping. I stopped crying and could breathe again, although I couldn’t really swallow the fear yet.

Day 2 being home.

We had a lot of moments like that afterwards, but we learned to understand the sensitivity of the meter and also, over the next couple weeks, Callan’s lungs grew stronger. 

He smiled a lot in his sleep.

He also smiles if you talk to him when he's awake.

Just over two weeks after coming home from the NICU, Callan was off oxygen. 

Callan watches me, wondering what I'm doing!

Callan plays, pulling one of his cute faces!

Callan is 20 days old!

When he was three and a half weeks old, he was finally able to go off the meter.

I’ve decided I’m not a “downright awful, horrid, terrible wretch of an excuse of a mother” like I’d thought. No, I’m a mother. And mothers sometimes feel like they are downright awful, horrid and terrible at being a mother.

Now, for the record, I love being a mother (even if I’m a downright awful, horrid, terrible wretch of an excuse of one). Maybe Callan will forgive me my shortcomings and love me anyway.

Callan smiles at his Mama.

I sure love being his mother! And I’ve learned not to watch the clock. I watch him instead and in so doing, my heart melts and I can’t help but be caught under his spell.

Callan - 1 month and 1 day old

I love being his mother!