2:15

Our son was born May 12, 2001. He came into the world 7lbs, 2oz with a head full of hair. He was soooo tiny. I can still feel that moment when I first laid eyes on him. My husband Mark was the first person to hold him. I pause even as I write this because as I reflect on all the moments of my son’s birth there are so many things that bring joy to my heart. It’s kind of funny reminiscing about my son in Marks arms. It looked like he was holding an animal or something, because when I say my son had hair, I mean, he had a full head of hair, and my husband had been bald since his early 20’s (he was 33 on our sons birthday), and I definitely am not hairy. Heck, as a matter of fact I think I’ve only had to shave my underarms only 3 times in my 44 years of life and one of those times was just because my silly teenage self, wanted to try it after seeing my older sister Jessica do it. OMG, I’m sorry, I just realized that I haven’t introduced myself; my name is Paige and OMG again, I haven’t told you my sons name; Joel. Joel is his name. Now it’s not pronounced the way you may think, it’s actually pronounced ‘Jo-el’. Now you’re probably thinking, ‘now why didn’t they spell that baby’s name right, well blame my husband Mark for that. For those that don’t know, when a woman is giving birth, she is usually medicated…which I was…and after the birth, some women are still medicated up….and I was…..soooooo when it came time to fill out certain forms, Mark, my wonderful husband filled out some of those forms and welllllll Mark wasn’t the best speller so he went with…and I quote – “The way I thought it was spelled”. I love that man, and he’s going to kill me for writing about that, but I’ll find a way to make it up to him. I’m trying to remember the moment we left the hospital but I’m having a problem remembering it, because all my mind can focus on his seeing my husband pulling up to the curb in that god ugly minivan. I hated that thing! I just remember sitting in the hospital wheelchair at the ‘baby curb’ with the nurse standing behind me holding the wheelchair as I set there holding Joel. My husband knew I hated that van, but he was so cute that day. He was fumbling all over the place as he checked to make sure the baby seat was secure. He carefully reached into my arms to grab the baby and put him in the car seat and kissed Joel on the cheek. Then he turned to me and helped me into the van. He carefully made sure I was comfortable before shutting the door, then leaned in and kissed my forehead. He was just a big ball of joy. He even gave the nurse whom wheeled me down a hug. Wow, he was so excited that it made me feel so loved and joyful. He jumped into the driver seat and started feeling around for his keys to the van and started to panic when he couldn’t find them. I reached over and touched his right hand and said, ‘Baby the van is on. The keys are in the ignition already’. He didn’t know what to say or do, and all I could do was say, ‘I love you babe’. We’d finally made it home. What a long journey we’d been through. 9 months I’d been carrying our child. Mark had always wanted a baby boy, but I never really had a preference. I just wanted a healthy baby when the time came for us to conceive. Throughout my pregnancy I never had those weird cravings. I’d never had those ruff nights. I didn’t have morning sickness. I just didn’t have that typical pregnancy that you see on TV. We made all of our doctors’ visits and I started prenatal care and vitamins before we even knew I was with child. I just figured that since we were trying, I may as well start taking them. I remember being so grateful that I wasn’t experiencing all the issues that many women go through, but at the same time I kind of felt cheated because I didn’t know if I was missing the true experience of being pregnant. I guess that was the only real ‘pregnant’ experience I had, paranoia. I just felt like something was off. But throughout, every doctors visit was great, but there was always feeling of something’s wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I stopped trying to find something to point too. So there we were, Mark and I standing over Joel in his crib watching him rest. The room was a light purple with a yellow rocking chair off in the corner. A dark wood changing station was right next to the crib. There was a silver diaper trash can to the left of the crib. Behind us was a bookshelf that we’d turned into a towel/diaper/baby books/pic holder and whatever else we could find to make it a baby room. In the middle of wall, separating the windows was a black and white clock. 2:15…2:15…2:15, I’ll never forget the moment when I was hit with a ton of bricks. All of the concerns I’d had during pregnancy were suddenly clear to me. At 2:15 I realized that I hadn’t heard my baby’s voice. Even though I’d been on medication at the hospital, I couldn’t remember hearing his first cry. I’d held him several times by now, but he hadn’t made a sound. 2:15…2:15…2:15