Get a Grip
It wasn’t when Levi was born, or when the doctor handed him to me to hold him for the first time, or even in the hours to come after that. It was the next morning. The chaos of the event had subsided and we were alone. The phone wasn’t constantly dinging with family members eager for information. The nurses and doctors had stopped checking in to give advice, ask if everything was ok, or check someone’s vital signs. It was quiet. We were alone. I was still getting used to the idea that he was here to STAY. This time…those baby onesies and blankets were going to be used! I wasn’t going to have to pack them away and process a depth of pain that by now should feel normal. At least not in the same ways. Not right now. I was still processing the idea that the weight in my hands somehow felt so much different than the three boys before him. His full head of fine, black hair was just as soft and fluffy as a little kitten. Some family members immediately gave him the nickname Elvis. To me, everything about him was so dependent, fragile, and temporary. Yet, so full of potential and love. Like the universe just handed me a whole ass world to manage. A whole ass life to build and hopefully steer in the right direction. No manual, no instructions, which felt scary as hell considering how mine was going.
I had this little, tiny 6-pound 3 oz human being in my arms that I was fully responsible for. He was to grow up and be a toddler, a young boy, a teenager and someday a man. But for now, he was lying there with his smooth, pinkish fingers, toes, and cheeks. His eyes were closed. For now, he was this infantile little seed of endless possibility. Calm. Content.
I remember thinking how everyone kept saying babies liked to be swaddled tight, but he seemed so much comfier unwrapped and free. I watched his chest rise: Up, down, up, down, up, down, with each breath and could sometimes even see his little heart beating. It reminded me of the time I watched his brother’s fade into a heavy stillness. I watched closely, almost waiting for something terrible to happen still. Like it wasn’t real yet. The safety to think about “ok, what’s next?”.
I went to stroke his fingers while he slept and that’s when it happened. He squirmed around on the bright, white hospital sheet and stretched out his fingers. When he felt mine underneath his, he wrapped them around and held on tight. I waited, anxious and scared, for him to start waking or fussing but he didn’t. His little hand just gripped my fingers. Tight. Secure. Solid. So Grounded. Safe. I knew deep down there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep him healthy and safe. To keep him secure and fully supported. That no matter what life threw at us I could never let go of that little grip like my mother let go of mine. I always went through life wondering how a parent could do that. In this moment, like so many after it, it was so much more impossible to comprehend.
Being a mom is hard (as I have come to understand), relationships are hard, making decisions that affect more than just you is fucking hard. I often look back to those quiet little moments when they grab my hand unexpectedly. When they ask for my time at bedtime with conversations that spill their little thoughts and dreams. Almost like the world is in their hands and everything is possible. When the unprompted “I love yous” with tight hugs full of unconditional love come. It’s these moments that help me realize why I push through the days when life throws us upside down and pulls me inside out. The days when Levi’s break downs were almost too much to bare. The days of rebuilding a life (or trying to) in the middle of potty-training, and colds and flus that keep us up all night. When solo study sessions stretched to 2 A.M. that often included job applications and forgetting to set the alarm to get everyone up and off to school by eight. The days I lose my composure because I feel guilty putting all these hours into this university, the grades, the teachers. All to build that degree that would someday get me the career that would get us the home that I keep promising them. All while they constantly ask “when are we getting a house mommy?” or “when are you going to be done with school?”. When they say things like “we’ll give you the money in our piggy-banks so we can get a house” and I feel like a low life piece of shit. I was supposed to support them, I was supposed to take care of them. I vowed since before that little grip and definitely after that no one and nothing could keep me from doing this for them. The days the kids themselves are acting out in expression of needing attention and love so I have to leave work or school early and I’m expected to “discipline” them. In reality, I just implode and explode under stress, loneliness, and heartache. The nights full of amped energies, tantrums, and deadlines but never enough time. Those little moments, they’re my reason. It was them who kept me motivated and driven when I wanted to just give up.
Forensic science was the goal but so is raising decent human beings. They aren’t going to raise themselves. Before I give up, I try to always remember they’re watching. I know I’m supposed to say things like “if it weren’t for my kids, I’d probably be dead” but honestly without them, my motivation and moral compass ceased to exist. They have grounded me in ways no one else could while driving me insane at the same time. The innocence and joy in the depth of their eyes in those moments that are quiet and still like when Levi laid there in that hospital, or when he saw his sister for the first time, or when Levi and Skye held Axel for the first time, or when they lay with each other wrapped in hugs in between the daily sibling rivalry makes it all worth it. I could have never imagined the ways our lives would continue to change while the rhythm of his breathing steadied my wavering purpose that day in the hospital.
“If you’ll be my star, I’ll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night. When I turn jet black and you show off your light, I live to let you shine. I live to let you shine”
Gregory and The Hawk
