Baby Taco: 12 weeks, 3 days
When I was in 8th grade, I was in love. This boy named Chris, (not my husband), swept me off of my hormone raging feet. He was my first kiss. The first boy who made me feel beautiful. Oh, I was going to marry him for sure. He was a typical “bad boy”. He lived in the trailer park near my temple and I would sneak out of hebrew school to go and make out with him. I felt like such a bad ass. He smoked cigarettes and weed and had sex before. And here I was still hiding the fact, that I still played with barbies and action figures.
One day, I snuck out of my house to meet him at my old elementary school. We must have kissed until my lips went numb. I don’t know how long I was out there but I didn’t care. I was grown. I had a boyfriend. He asked me to have sex with him.and I immediately broke out into a nervous fit. Nevermind on the whole grownup thing. I was so scared, so I told him I had to go home. As I got up to start walking my friends dad was there. He said that my mom had been looking for me…shit. He drove me home in silence.
I walked into my house where my mom gave me a hug and almost instantly started to yell at me. I don’t even remeber what she said, but she was mad. Like the typical pre-teen, I yelled back, stomped up to my room and slamed the door. My punishment was that I could not go on the overnight 8th grade trip to the Pochonos. I was devastated. It turns out that while my class was up there, hiking and learning how to build fires. Chris, (not my husband), kissed a girl named Heather. Looks like we were not meant to be afterall.
At the time I thought to myself, “my mom is such a bitch, if only she didn’t punish me I would have been able to go on the trip and then he would have never kissed Heather”! Now when I look back, I understand why I was yelled at and why I was punished.
My mom was scared. Imagine going up to your kids room and them not being there. This was at a time when cell phones were still pretty new so there was no way to even contact me to see where I was. To her, I was just gone. She didn’t know if I was safe. That’s scary to think about. Having your kid just disappear.
What’s neat about genetics is that I have my mom same sense of fear. When I get nervous or anxious it does not come across as gentle. I will yell, I will get mad until I finally calm down but it takes time.
When I had Taco, it was a daze. One day I will write about his birth story, but it all happened so fast. He was in the NICU at the hospital where he was born and then when the doctors realized they couldn’t help him, moved him to another hospital that was more equipped. They discharged me but my baby still had to stay. I had to go home without him.
The fear, that anger is indescribable. I don’t know if it’s on the same scale of your 13 year old sneaking out to kiss boys but damn. You want to yell at the doctors. You want to just scream and shake them. You fell in love with this tiny human so quickly and the fact that the doctor doesn’t care infuriates you. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE HAS OTHER PATIENTS?!
I’ve been scared before. I’ve had surgeries where I didn’t think I would wake up, I lived in Jersey during 9/11 where I thought we would be bombed to death, I had family die, I have had fear. Nothing though can prepare you though for the fear of having a sick baby. No one can take the imaginary boot off that is just pressing harder and harder on your chest. Going home, without a baby is horrible. That fear hits you so hard and so fast you don’t even have time to process. The second you see that baby, it’s game over. You fall in love so deeply it hurts. Your heart aches because they are just so beautiful and when you can’t help them, it’s worse than anything you can think of.
I understand why my mom was hard on me. If Taco were to ever sneak out and go and kiss some girl, (or boy, who am I to judge?), I would meet him with the same intensity my mom gave me. Because I love him more than I love anything and would crumble if someone were to hurt him.
Being a mom has changed my perception of fear. I still have not taken him to the supermarket for fear that someone will try to touch him. On our walk last night I saw a bug land on his carriage and almost ran home for fear that he may have gotten bit. I constantly wash my hands for fear of germs. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Taco. I watch him sleep and put my hand near his nose to check his breathing. I have become so much more neurotic.
It’s that fear though, that drives me to love more. I know one day, he will get a cold, he will get a bug bite and I will eventually have to take him out to go food shopping. He needs to experience life. But for now, as he lays on top of me so perfect, I am more than content on letting him stay in his little safety bubble that is my arms.