Baby T

When I was a child I didn't really have any security items, at least not that I can recall. Not a baby doll, stuffed animal, or even a baby blanket. I am sure I went through phases and was attached to random things for short periods of time, but nothing really stands out in my memory. I've never really understood those attachments until now. For the first time I have that thing that I am completely attached to, panicked when I am not near, and almost completely dependent on for comfort.... my baby girl T.

T was born just under two weeks after the MRI found the lesions on my husband's spine, and exactly one week before we got the diagnosis. At four months old, her age is a constant reminder of just how long we have been on this journey. Though four months is such a short period of time, it feels like so much longer. Hours blur into days, days into weeks, weeks into months. I occasionally look at my email and see messages I thought I had responded to or had planned on responding to, dating over a month ago when I could swear that it has only been a week. Hopefully I will catch up soon.

During the day everything has the appearance of being normal, but at night when sleep eludes my husband and often times myself, thoughts begin to circle and my brain becomes overwhelmed by the good, bad, and the ugly. I often wake up to the realization that C is no longer in bed with baby T and I, I then hold my breathe and listen to see if I can figure out where he is in the house. Sometimes I will hear the creak of the sofa and know that he has taken some pain medicine and is probably catching up on various news articles he saves for just those times while he waits for it to kick in. Other times I will hear him snoring and know he is likely lying on the hardwood floor or, more recently, sitting slumped on the couch having finally found a position that allows him to finally fall asleep. Occasionally he will be lurking over me to see if I am awake, to inquire about the ownership of the cupcakes in the kitchen left over from a playdate...... Or I hear the toilet seat, and well, I won't elaborate there. After I've located him, my eyes tend to drift back to his side of the bed, and I feel alone. The only thing that stops the tears from starting is then looking down to baby T, sleeping so peacefully in my arms. Sometimes with a sleep smile or giggle, or occasionally a hug. Okay, so I know it isn't a real hug, but she shifts and tilts her body into mine for a few moments and then relaxes back to her former position... like she has some sense that that is what I need in that moment.

Then there are those rare occasions where I can't locate where C is, so I get up and go looking for him. Early one morning I found him sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, the one place that doesn't have a discernible noise, scrolling Facebook. With all three munchkins sleeping, I took the opportunity to sit with him for awhile. Rik Emmett had posted a Youtube video from one of his recent concerts, and we sat snuggled together in his blanket and watched it for awhile. It felt so good sitting there for just those few minutes, because for that short time it felt like we were a normal couple again.... no worries, no fears, no conversation about tests and scans, it was just us. I hope we find our way back to that, it is yet another thing I miss so much.