Another first I remember, quite vividly and could even tell you the day, was when I first laid eyes on my son. We had been waiting four years to have this baby, and every minute was worth it. I cried tears of joy, I felt so much love for him, for my husband, even my doctor, he was so perfect and felt so good, skin against skin. Exhausted as I was, I remember that whole day quite well, as everything was perfect, from the nap and oh so refreshing shower, to the decision to just take my baby into bed with me that night. The days following were pure bliss, the years a series of emotional highs and lows that nobody but a child can bring. My two babies have filled my life with wonder and lots of firsts (that's Keegan's first birthday up there).
So why don't I remember all their other firsts, walking (11 and 12 months is as accurate as I can get), first haircut, first words? A lament I hear from working moms is they miss these "firsts." Maybe I take comfort in that excuse, as while watching my little toddlers toddling around, starting to run before we'd gotten over their first tumbles, is a joy unmatched, it doesn't bother me not to remember (my husband I'm sure recorded it somewhere) the first time. I don't remember the first time they said "I love you, " but I do remember how different my two guys were, one so much less verbal and much more likely to give a heart pounding rib breaking hug than to whisper in your ear. So the I Love You's from him are as precious today as they were when he finally said them, whenever that first time was.
The scary firsts, the screaming and crying and fear, rushing to the hospital, those I remember. Trips to the ER for the baby with the bloody lip, a toddler falling on the sidewalk, a pea stuck up someone's nose, the first operation (planned) and first stitches (accident). I remember those vividly, Keegan screaming in the ER so the nurse had to close the curtain and skip the temperature reading, until finally the Olympics began to distract him. And being glad we had a second baby so I got to sleep while my husband went off for the pea removal, first and only foreign body removed.
The not so scary, but heart-wrenching and emotional other firsts, such as the first time I sent my husband OUT, take the baby, take the dogs, I need to have one hour alone and if he's here I can't help but go to him if he cries. I remember the relaxing and loooong bath, followed by a casual stroll out to the backyard to find it empty. They'd gone to a coffee shop. They'd gone out, with the baby, without me. Wait, I would have gone. Thus are the thoughts in a new mom's head - luxury of a bath all alone versus someone actually taking you out somewhere.
And the first time I went to work, feeling so fortunate dad and grandpa had care of my baby, people I could trust. But forgetting my breast pump adaptor, trying to just rid myself of some of the pressure by hand in the bathroom, astounding my friend at work with this tidbit of information, and finally going home, defeated by the pump yet ecstatic at seeing my baby. I barely remember the baby in this equation, but the trials of pumping, the funny stories like when I was complimented on my nice "bag" which was indeed a breast pump, and the bags of milk in the refrigerator.
While I remember those, not by choice, but because my mind cannot forget them, what I want to remember, and a reason for this blog, are the firsts you might not find in a baby book, except perhaps "baby's first tattoo." The first time Keegan made lunch I just wanted to cry and call my friends and hug time so tightly he'd never get away. He got so excited about the new blue container he wanted to make his lunch right then and there. Watching my meticulous little guy so serious, spreading the tiniest about of peanut butter, just the way he likes it, with lots of jelly. Organizing the new container and packing cheetos and cucumbers and grapes, so I documented it.
So there are some of mine, tell me about your firsts.