Face

We are the proud parents of one hungry boy.  Yesterday, Asher took 95ml from a bottle from Marissa during the day.  Today, he got as high up to 120.  The feeding team monitored him with a stethoscope and said he sounded great.  Things were going so well that the feeding tube was removed, and he is eating completely on his own.  When I arrived yesterday, he was sleeping, and I saw him for the first time without obstruction from tubes, tape, or wires attached.  Just his beautiful face.

Religion is mostly foreign to me.  After my grandpa died when I was about nine, I stopped going to church.  My dad describes himself as a recovering Catholic, and to this day I can't tell you much about my mom's beliefs beyond the fact that she believes in God.   The idea of God as portrayed in most religious texts has never been one that computes in my mind.

Yet I know what I feel.   A couple of years ago, I was waiting out a heavy downpour in a shelter on the Appalachian Trail, talking to a group of backpackers and trying to keep my dogs from making trouble.  Once the rain dispersed, I left the shelter and hiked to steep section of trail called the Jump Up.  My favorite time to be in the mountains is right after a hard rain, as the humidity clears and collects into fingerling clouds that nestle into the crevices of the land.   Such was the scene as I arrived at the Jump Up that day.

That had been the last time I saw God. A power far greater than me surrounded and enveloped my being on that mountain. Parts of myself that I'd never met before came to the surface. The Earth was giving me a big ole bear hug, and I could have spent the rest of that day in its embrace. I felt whole.

Then, last week, my son looked into my eyes, and it happened all over again.

Contained in that face is the power of something far great than me.  It surrounds me and fills in the gaps.  Like a campfire, I could stare into it for hours, not fully understanding why, watching as it flickers and dances.  Maybe it's love, but it feels like God.

*****

The wires came completely off today, along with diaper and clothes for Asher's first bathing by his dad.  I couldn't resist a picture.

Poor kid got his dad's gut. 

The good news of the day was that Asher can certainly cry.  Unfortunately, discovering this came at the expense of an unsuccessful first attempt at breastfeeding.  I wasn't there, but according to Riss, he wanted to latch on but couldn't quite do it, hence his frustration.  Given that his initial attempt at bottle feeding was also tough, I don't think this should be too surprising.  He may just need practice.  Riss took it hard though. Between the illness, hormones, and desire to get him home, she's been strapped into an emotional roller coaster lately.

Hopefully, starting transition will help her.  We're now on the waiting list, and we've been told that from there it should only be a day or two until we're home.  I hope when transition starts, being together all day for the first time will really help her feel like Asher is hers.  Motherhood came with a beginning that was unfair to her.  Pretty soon, I think we'll get to make up for some of that lost time.