Hey there! It’s good to see you! Have you lost weight or is it a new haircut that’s making you look so different? Me? Well, it’s been a while. A LONG while...I’m a horrid friend, I know. But there’s a good reason.
So. Nearly six months ago, THIS happened:
That would be Dylan, or Pickle as we call him. (Dylan–Dill–Dill Pickle-Pickle in case you’re wondering what circuitous path brought us there. Just please don’t call him Dillie…it makes my soul weep).
Of course, he didn’t come out looking quite that charming. I thought I would spare the childless amongst you THAT horror show. No need to frighten everyone into ill-advised hysterectomy’s over fear of what you might spawn. You’re never really prepared for how ugly your newborn may be. Dylan, poor chap, had been so squished in the birth canal that upon his arrival, Marc and I just sort of looked at each other and silently worried - this HAS to improve, RIGHT??? - while everyone politely coo’d over our sons misshapen face. One family member got it right when she accurately stated, “He looks like a little prize fighter!” though she forgot to add that he was on the losing side without the benefit of a corner coach.
There was a smushed nose, a cone head that listed eastwards and a lazy eye that wouldn’t open properly. We slapped a hat on him and peeked over the crib each morning in the hopes that things had smoothed out over night. It was rough going for a while but fortunately, about two weeks later, his face unpuffed and his features settled into something more angelic and less like Gollum. We breathed a collective sigh of relief.
I mean, it’s a crapshoot, right? Just because you are reasonable looking people doesn’t mean that your children won’t get the unfortunate genes that are swimming about in your respective pools. So we’re just enjoying these adorable years that Dylan seems to be heading into. What I’m sure of is that his teenage years will be less kind and awkward seeing as both Marc and I barely skated through that era with our dignities intact - there was a braided tail for Marc and some perplexing fashion choices on my part. In fact, dignity might have taken a hiatus and caught up with us around 25. It’s hard to say.
But in the interim, here we are. In the deepest of love with our tiny boy.
And what can I say about parenthood that hasn’t already been said? All of the clichés are true. Every one of them. That your heart explodes and suddenly is outside of your body in the form of your child. That it is the hardest and most rewarding job you will ever have. That you will suddenly have a completely different kind of appreciation for your own parents. That you never knew the depths of your capacity to love until you are holding the little person that is a part of your very soul. It’s true. I thought I loved Kylie with all of my heart. And I do…I mean, my blog is named for her (and she is doing swimmingly, by the way – she feigns disinterest but goes and sits outside Dylan’s door the minute he cries) and I like her more than most people. But THIS love…I just had no idea. I marvel at it.
One thing that I have been shocked at is my ability to power through the fatigue. I’m a girl who likes her rest. In fact, I require it medically being immune system challenged. And of course with a newborn, there is none of that. It’s like freaking Nam…you’re up at all hours, waiting with ears pricked for the next shriek from the nine pound enemy that you’ve let into your home. I was worried that I might crack under the pressure of the constant care seeing as gone were the languid afternoon hours that I spent on the couch allowing my body to rest up for the remainder of the day.
But it’s incredible. Caring for Dylan, in every capacity, is a delight. My body, though broken in many respects, has responded to the task of being a mother in ways I didn’t think it would or could. I feel that motherhood has healed parts of me that were sad and downtrodden for a long while. I’m intensely aware that his very life, his existence depends on my being present for him at all times. And I’m here. I’m showing up for this little man and will continue to do so for as long as I draw breath.
For him, I would fight tigers.
