Mother's Day

Marissa hasn't gotten what she really wanted for Mother's Day - relief from her mastitis and thrush.  Nerves have worn thin between us in the last couple days, due in large part to the frustration this is causing.  The impatience to get him home is also building, and Marissa's problems are only slowing this down.  He looks so normal now, it makes me feel like a horse at the end of a ride.  I can see the barn, and I want to run for it.

I'm not the only one who thinks he looks like a changed baby.  His new neonatologist stopped by to echo that view, saying the early reports and what he sees now seem pleasantly incongruent.  Another EEG would be done next week, he said, once Asher's phenobarbital level gets below 10.

The one thing we're still hoping for is crying. Yes, crying.  Find me the parent of another two-week old who wants that.  Today's neonatologist, the nurses, and Asher's grandparents all seem to be less worried about this than me.  He's making other noises, so it's not as if he doesn't have a voice.  We know he feels pain, as in the circumcision, by the look on his face.  He could just be a mellow like we're told his mom was as a baby, or like our dog Jhana, who Riss pointed out barks about twice a year.

If he were going to cry, it seems his circumcision yesterday would have been the best opportunity he's had.  Instead, his mom did all the crying.  Perhaps to help her through, the doctor, who's also Jewish, began humming a song I've heard in synagogues before.  As he hummed and worked, Marissa joined in.  The comfort and the connection between two near-strangers provided by their faith made the event feel like more than a simple medical procedure.

*****

Though Marissa didn't get what she wanted for Mother's Day, my mom got the only thing she hoped for.

She's the last of the grandparents to meet him, which I think was quietly killing her.  However, she's also the first person outside his parents and the nurses to hold him.  It seems like she's been waiting to be a grandma since I made her a mom back in 1982. As a child, I remember her being very protective over my reproductive parts. Her fear of having no grandchildren was apparent every time I got unspeakable poison ivy or was hit in the groin with a soccer ball.  That fear must have felt like it was nearly realized the day Asher was born.  She admitted she was nervous to meet him, not knowing entirely what to expect when she saw him.  By the time she left, I think she felt very happy and as hopeful as Asher's parents are.