Not What You'd Think

When people ask me in conversation how the adjustment has been from one child to two, I usually say that it's hard in some ways and easier in others. Like that I don't freak out so much about Reed and generally have a pretty decent idea of how to handle the whole parenting a newborn thing. And that's mostly true. Mostly. Except at the very beginning. Here's a little tidbit of Reed's story that I didn't share before.

So we were standing there in the hospital room with Reed. Placement was done, Chris and Shelah had left, and we were waiting for Reed to be discharged so we could go home. I had a sudden and very strong sense of deja vu, remembering this same moment when we adopted Rachel. See, when you adopt, you never really know that you're for sure going to be bringing home a baby until that moment. I actually always tried to steel myself to not expect to bring a baby home. Up until then, the birth parents are the only parents, and I'm only a bystander. Then, all of a sudden, I'm the mom. It's a very surreal and sudden rush of emotion. You'd think that this would be a moment of absolute joy. I have a baby! But joy is not the predominate emotion here.

It's fear. I'm talking sheer and utter terror. I remembered feeling it with Rachel, and thought that it wouldn't be as bad the second time around. Nope. Standing there, holding Reed, I was completely terrified. I remember the thoughts that ran through my head. I'm this little baby's mom. He's really ours. We're about to go home, and be solely responsible for him. I didn't have time to get anything ready. I didn't have time to reread parenting books and remember how to do all this. The doctor came in, a really nice, warm woman, and talked with us for a few minutes, answering our questions, telling us how Reed has done totally fine his first few days. Reminding us to get his PKU test done, recommending we get the pertussis vaccine. Etc, etc. I nodded and smiled and talked.

And then I just lost it. "I don't know if I can do this," I blurted out, like it was a confession, tears starting to run down my face in front of this perfect stranger. "I don't know if I remember how." My mind filled with all the things I couldn't remember - What's considered a fever for a newborn? How do I hold him to burp him? Do I remember infant CPR? How do I change his diaper without feeling like I'm about to break those skinny little legs? How do I manage the crying and the sleepless nights and the overwhelming feeling of complete inadequacy?

Cue hyperventilation.

Luckily, the doctor was very sweet and reassuring, and after a minute or two I calmed down a bit. We strapped Reed into his carseat and drove home with our kids. Plural. We have kids.

And, of course, it didn't take long to remember all the infant stuff. It didn't take long for joy to overcome the fear. To fall in love with this little person that we didn't even know existed yesterday. I think a lot of people would agree that you don't fully understand love until you're a parent. But I think you also don't really understand fear until then either.

Wow this parenting thing is one crazy ride.