Momcafe

In my second semester of nursing school, I gave birth to my third child. Holding her, admiring her simple perfection, I was mesmerized, completely consumed with her. On my second day in the hospital, I was hit with a choking thought: how could I continue with school? It seemed too soon to be thinking about that, but it was a realization I had to face.

At home, I wanted nothing more than to hold her. She was so tiny, arriving into this world three weeks early, and I kept her bundled tight warding off the chill of early February. I didn’t want to put her down, not for a moment. Even at night, when I knew she should be learning to sleep in her own crib, I kept her close to me, watching her breathe, feeling her tiny fingers curl around mine. She became my safe place. When my mind was racing, she calmed me.

When I had to return to school the following week, I cried. I didn’t want to leave her so soon as if she might sense that I was somehow betraying her. But it was only for one hour and I was back before she barely had a chance to wake from her nap. When clinical began two weeks later, I wanted to quit school altogether. To leave her for a full eight hours seemed impossible- even if it were only one day a week.

In the darkened moments of early morning, I held her and kissed her, and felt the softness of her cheek pressed against my own. She buried her head into the hollow of my shoulder and held on to my shirt with her clenched fist as she slept, oblivious that I would be leaving her for the day. My heart was aching, my mind was battling an internal fight. Am I doing the right thing? I questioned again.

Later that afternoon when I returned home, I picked her up and whispered how I had missed her. My husband sat smiling, pleased that he had managed her and the older two children with such ease. After I changed, I sank down with her onto the chair and put my feet up- knowing this was the only place I wanted to be.

After those initial days of class after her birth, I made it through the rest of the semester and the next one as well. Seven months after her birth, I am into the first semester of my last year of school, and she continues to be my safe, quiet place. Whatever else happens at school, I take her in my arms and know that I am holding all that matters in this life. She is my comfort, my joy, my light. She was given to me at a very busy time in my life to remind me to slow down and hold on to what is important. I now know that it is she who makes possible what at first seemed impossible.