And then we were four.
It is hard for me to put into words the raw emotion that accompanied the births of my children. Elation, shock & awe, disequilibrium? Maybe, I dunno, I was kind of emotional. Over emotional really, at least the second time around.
When Sam was born there were unexpected complications, and a close call. He was fine, but it was touch and go for a few minutes for Bettie. I guess I handled it pretty well at the time, I just held the baby and stayed out of the way with all the blood and the “GET ME SOMETHING-SOMETHING STAT!” I remember a lot of people moving quickly, and my wife turning very very pale.
Obviously she survived (or she is a very crafty undead of some type likely categorized in one of the later-edition D&D Monster Manuals), but for a while there in the hospital, I pondered a very different future than the one I expected. I always liked kids, kids have always liked me. But I don’t think I wanted, actively, to be a parent until I found the right person to parent with. The idea, being conveyed by the very very pale woman on the gurney and the scrambling medicos, that I would have to go it alone- without her- was terrifying. But also very calming.
See, she is my anchor and she keeps me centered and focused. So when I panic I turn to her to (figuratively, mostly) slap me in the face. When I thought she might not be around to do that, I became remarkably calm.
“It’s gonna be ok, little man,” I told the equally calm and relaxed infant in my arms. He was just sort of blinking at me, figuring things out. “I’ll take care of you.” I figured we would be Daigoro and Ogami Itto; we’d go nomad and I’d drive around on my Vespa with my baby strapped to my back, having adventures. Scooter Perambulator At The River Sanju. “Pick the sword,” I told my child. “Forget the ball. You don’t need a ball yet, you are still so tiny.” He hadn’t seen the movie yet, but I think he understood what I was saying on a purely mythical level. We had an unspoken agreement my son and I, and everything was going to be okay.
And much to my joy, it was. Bettie was okay, my grim fear of being a widower with an infant was put on hold. Life started up again, now with a son. We came to joke about the touch-and-go “almost fucking died” thing. Mainly, I think, because that is how we’ve always had to deal with tragedy and near-tragedy.
Let’s jump forward several years, and Grace is born. The birth itself went great. She was glorious, was my Bettie, my wife, Annika my partner. She was glorious and strong and she caught her own child as she tumbled free and we marveled at this tiny creature- this purple, furious, scrunch-faced and flailing little thing that wailed and hiccuped and scrambled at the breast.
Afterwards there was a need for medical intervention- no problem. This time we’re ready for it, this time we half-expected it (and it turned out to be a different complication, amusingly enough). So Annika goes to the hospital to get some medical attention, some blood, and baby-girl goes along for the ride. Good hospital, Good Samaritan, good staff.
I wait for a friend to come to keep an eye on sleeping Sam, and then head over to Good Sam to check in on my wife and daughter. When I get there, I get to hang out with my daughter for a few hours and give her a sponge-bath in the nursery. I check in with Annika- she is doing well, I’m sent home to get some sleep. I catch 2 hours before Sam wakes me up, wanting to play. I drop him off with the McQ family- basically Sam’s second family, he loves it there- and go back to the hospital to see my girls.
Our Goblin Princess’s ears looked like a miniature prize-fighters, her brow was somewhere between a Next Gen Klingon and a Whedonverse vampire, one big indentation from eye to eye across the nose. She was a little less purple, moe of a ruddy angry pinkish red. Her cheeks- my God her cheeks- like one of those skiff-guard aliens from Return of the Jedi, or just two giant apples overwhelming a tiny chin and cupid’s mouth.
They wanted to keep my wife under observation for one more night and day- which was to be expected. I went home and called Tim to get Sam back. “We can keep him tonight if you want, it’s no trouble and he’s having a great time.” No thanks. I wanted- no, I needed to have my son with me. I felt at loose ends, my emotions were all unchecked all broadcasting louder and more raw than I could understand. I sent off a barrage of emails and phone calls- trying to make each call as short as possible because I felt like I was choking.
Waiting for Sam to be dropped off was painful. Every sound in the hallway of the apartment building, every noise from the street, was making me jump out of my skin. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty, I showered but just sat in the water and let it run off me. Well, I’m pretty tired- I figured. The next day we brought the girls home, Sam was overjoyed. “Coming back?” he asked me that morning in the car. I fought back tears driving him to the McQs for a second day. He was happy- but I felt like I was abandoning him. So when we all went home, on New Years Eve, the world clicked back into place.
Except a part of me hasn’t clicked back yet. Sudden noises are still a bit too loud. I swing between sleeping like a log and springing out of bed at the slightest noise. I’ve vibrated with fight-or-flight impulses. My left eye was constantly vibrating in the socket- stress headaches were common. I burst into tears watching Bolt with Sam. It isn’t that good of a movie, believe me, but the scene where the girl is being wheeled to an ambulance- with the dog curled on her chest the way Gracie was on Annika’s- just about tore me open. All of those emotions came rushing back- I couldn’t understand it!
I kept telling myself, it wasn’t Grace’s birth- that went fine. Everything went as expected and planned for- so why am I more of a mess this time than I was when my wife almost died?
Well, I think I supressed it. I don’t think I ever really came to terms with almost losing Annika when we became three.
Maybe I can’t and won’t ever. Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, the old saying goes, but I think that trauma counts too.
I am so very lucky, so incredibly lucky. I have my little man, my Sam, my Goblin Princess Grace- who keeps getting prettier every day- and my partner, my wife. But sometimes, it still shakes me.