Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my brand new and beautiful season five DVDs.
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My hands are too big. That's just what I feel like right now. Way too big to be holding this little person, something that's totally... I don't know. Life's a little overwhelming right now. In a good way, in a great way. A baby, in my hands, that's half me and half of Pam. Who is my wife. I still can't say that without taking a second to let it soak in. But, seriously? This little guy is here, finally and...
I don't even know where to start. I feel like I should start talking to him, say something to him. Not that he'd remember it at all, but I feel like I should start teaching him. Right now. What, I don't know. I don't even know what I would "teach" him. Horrible father? I don't know. There's a lot I could say to him right now. It escapes me and sits on my tongue at the same time. Pam's asleep. Actually, I think she is. She could be. She should be, she deserves it, after all of this.
He probably thinks I am, but I'm not. My body is telling me to just go away for a while, just to sleep and let it wash over me, that it will still be here when my eyes open up again. But how could I possibly do that when my husband is holding a little boy that's all ours? He looks like the smallest thing I've ever seen in m life, even though I know, I know he's not. But in Jim's hands, he's absolutely dwarfed and it brings tears to my eyes. It's way too much the way the little boy stays silent and sleepy as Jim carries him around the room. The tears burn because I know our son (whoa) is sleeping because he's in his father's arms, because he knows how safe he is, and how great his daddy is and, oh, wow.
Jim looks surprised this whole time, as if the baby snuck up on him. I want to tease him and say to him, "You know that I wasn't just letting myself go, right? All this stomach was baby, you know that, right?" But I'm just too exhausted and too in love with the image in front of me.
My eyes are fluttering closed, and I'm too tired to smile. I'm ashamed to say I'm too tired to watch my family blossoming across the room. I'm too exhausted to scratch my neck where it really itches; I'm too happy to think of anything but naming my baby and kissing my husband. Every emotion is clouding just... everything. Am I always going to be like this? Elated. Oh my god, it's there in front of me again. My fingers are curling, seeing our little baby all over again. He's perfect.
He's perfect, even if he has my ears. He's got his mother's nose, so he'll be good. I don't know where to start...
I've never witnessed anything like pain until I saw Pam today. I guess I thought that all the jokes about "drugs" during labor meant that she wouldn't feel much at all. I was so wrong, and a little embarrassed with my expectations, but it's not like I had time to focus on them or anything. My head was mixed up, trying to help her through pushing (which, by the way, is probably the most emotionally confusing and heavy moment for a husband ever), but I couldn't. Because she was just crying and I felt useless. I'll admit, I wasn't thinking about the baby for a second, the shortest possible amount of time. Not in a neglectful kind of way, I swear. Just... I didn't think I could watch her go through that for much longer. She was crying and sweaty and overworked and red everywhere, and when I whispered that I loved her and that she was amazing, it didn't seem to register. I had a brief thought of suing the doctors and nurses, or whoever was in charge.
But then he was crying, and just when I thought Pam was going to burst with pain and suffering and reach her limit, she was smiling and laughing. A beautiful, airy laugh born on emotions and tears and so much time. I did a double take, not sure what to look at, and momentarily confused at my wife. I mean, you try to comprehend the fact that you can do nothing for her because of the pain she's in, and you want to console her, but before you can offer anything she's laughing and smiling despite it all, because there's a baby, and he's in the hands of the doctor who's at the foot of the bed.
I was gawking, and Pam's hand was blindly reaching for my arm as we just watched him flail just like a baby would. I sort of reached out for him, but let my hand fall to Pam's thigh before it looked like I was reaching.
I was on overdrive. I was just confused and happy and in love, being a total sap. I looked back at Pam as she collapsed into the pillows behind her, shaking with happy tears and smiling hard with her eyes closed, laughing and crying and laughing. I felt like I should protect her and thank her and then kiss the hell out of her all at once. I grabbed both of her hands and just squeezed them, watching the red and white course under my skin.
My son, my son (oh my god), was screaming across the room. Pam opened her eyes and bit her lip, choking on something like, "Hear him?"
He nodded, and when the tears were welling up in his eyes, and he glanced at me and to the crowd by the window, I felt a rush. I felt like I'd suddenly made every perfect choice, like I hadn't made any mistakes along the way. Because life just doesn't get any better than holding your husband's hands and hearing that noise. A brand new perfect and pink baby boy. The funny thing is that Jim thought he was a boy the whole time, and the ultrasounds never confirmed a damn thing. They would tell us they thought it was a girl, but the kid always had his hands down there. Jim said he wouldn't want his stuff on display either, and that it showed character.
Jim, Jim. I couldn't help myself looking at him. Just the looks that flashed across his face were making me tear up. He was watching his little boy over there, whatever they were doing to him (it took far too long), and looking at me like he loved me. Like he really loved me. I had a small picture in my mind of Jim and I telling this little boy that he's going to have a little brother or sister. But I couldn't picture the boy's features yet, and suddenly they were handing me my baby.
I don't remember much of that part, except feeling utterly loved and in love. Mostly just crying and feeling Jim's cool fingertips on the back of my neck. One of his long fingers was carefully running down the blanket wrapped around the infant that was finally ours. I had another brief thought of everything we'd been through, pictures of Jim and I just a few years younger trying to figure it out, and then... Then, the wonderful life that was in front of me.
I think Jim started to worry, because I was holding the baby against my chest and smiling, but bawling and falling back onto the bed again. My eyes were shut, the tears spilling out and across my cheeks, and Jim looked happy and confused and bewildered. I try my best to convey what I'm feeling, but who knows if I was making sense. Just too happy, I said the only thing that would come out.
She told me she loved me, so so much. And that's all it took, and my breath caught on a sob, and I'm hugging her from the side, a little awkwardly, with my right arm wrapped carefully around him. Him. I knew it was a boy! I told her, too, but she said she was the one carrying the baby, and she got the vibes, and she would let me know. Vibes my ass, she never even made a real guess, but later she'll say she knew it was a boy. That's all right though. I love that about her, and I plan on worshipping the ground she walks on for the rest of my life, for giving me this little gift.
He's extremely little. And considering everything he went through, the trauma that babies seem to be bombarded with, he was extremely quiet. Words couldn't say how contented I was that he'd stopped crying. My heart stopped because suddenly I felt like the only reason he was calm was because Pam was holding him, and Pam is his mom, and maybe he already loves her. I knew she already loved him, because she just looked at him and just kept crying but smiling like her face would break in half. And I knew that this little boy was meant to have Pam and I take care of him.
"Hold your little guy," she suddenly said, in the most surreal, the sweetest way I've ever heard her say anything. Feel how heavy he is. Oh my god."
That's how he ended up in my hands.
Am I a terrible mother for practically passing out as soon as he's out of my hands? I mean, to be fair, I've been in labor for almost thirteen hours. Or twelve, something like that. But I can't fully fall asleep, because how can you when you suddenly have two men in your life that you love more than anything?
Jim loves him. Jim's going to teach him so much, I can see it. Jim was already a father before this, and how he has a son. Holy crap, we have a son. He's pacing all around the room, which is now dim and silent and simple. My eyelids are heavy, and I want to tell them both that I'm so sorry for being tired. Somehow, I think they'd both understand.
I feel like I'll wake up with tears in my eyes, because now and then I hve blurry images of Jim staring at the boy in wonder, trying to wake up from this small dream. My life could have gone a very different way, and the thought carries me closer to sleeping. I wish for Jim to teach him all about life and all of that, and hope that Jim teaches this boy to be smart and worthy and how to treat a girl and how to behave in church with his grandparents... I think about everything we can teach him together, and how he'll just fit in so well with us. How funny and smart he'll be, and how the three of us will have so much fun together. How he'll be our baby for his whole life but become someone who's amazing and maybe look like us a little (or a lot, a lot like his daddy if his face today is any indication) and learn all kinds of things...
I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't stop the tears (so emotional!) when I see him ease himself down onto one of the armchairs across the room. He's stroking the baby's head with his thumb, whispering something so delicately, so I just keep crying.
"That girl, your mom? The one passed out over there?" He smiles. "Our whole thing in life.. We just take care of her. That's our girl, alright?"
I feel like that's all he needs to know now. Hopefully I'll have enough time and sense to teach him all he needs to know. I'm worried about him already, but at the same time, I have more confidence in him than I do myself. I mean, look at that nose. He's going to be fine. As if on cue, he reaches one fist out and it pokes around in the air. It just kills me.
I set him down in the bassinet. My hands are useless without the baby in them, but they ache to be somewhere else. I'm the worst husband in the world, reaching for my wife who deserves all the sleep in the world right now, but to my surprise her eyes open before I reach her.
My hands cradle her face, and we kiss in the dimmest light, the yellow glow soft from above her bed. It's the slowest, the absolute best kiss we'll ever share. her eyes open sweetly to meet mine, and we tell each other we love each other, and it's just the two of us again, our third asleep a few feet away.
"You're a dad," she whispers. She laughs a little as I gaze at her. "That's so weird to say."
I nod, throwing a glance over my shoulder. "This is just..." I sigh and look back at her. "You..."
I'm kind of feeling really unmanly, but it doesn't matter because I'm just lost for words because I'm a dad and she just smiles knowingly. She winces in pain a little as she attempts to slide over in bed.
It's not enough room at all (forget childbirth, she's a bedhog any other time, too), but I settle myself carefully next to her, and she's turning into me like she's made to fit against me. Hell, she is. And we have all kinds of room between us now for the glue that's going to hold us together forever, the most awesome damn thing we're ever going to do.
I know she's awake for a long time, just looking at him and fighting off sleep, because I'm doing the exact same thing.
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