Joy

So here I am...back in the blogging world.  And this time I have my own blog that I can access wherever I am, which means you can expect a lot more posts from me :).  I have been wanting for so long to start my own blog separate from the website that Clint keeps up.  Not just for my own sake, but mostly because I feel like I owe it to all of you out there who have invested so much into my little boy.  I guess I never realized truly how many people have prayed, have checked our website and facebook posts, and who have poured their hearts into our family.  So the least I can do is continue to keep you all up to date on the happenings of Hudson and our little family of 3.  Because I know your hearts are still invested.  I know that just because the initial crisis of the NICU has come to a close that doesn't mean I can drop off the face of the earth and stop updating you all.  I know that the battle is not over with my son.  That he will continue to fight his whole life.  I know I will struggle to find strength as his mom.  I know some days I will rejoice.  I know some days I will mourn.  I know that I will fall on my knees and pray God uses my son in mighty ways because of all he has dealt with.  And I know that I will need the strength, support, and encouragement from you all just the same in this everyday life as I did when Hudson was in the hospital.

So here begins my blogging journey, and I must warn you that this post will be a LARGE one.  Because I have been meaning to reflect on my first couple months as a mom for soooo long, and between the feedings, diaper changes, and doctors appointments I fear if I don't get my thoughts down now it will be months before I get a chance to.

So now onto the real topic of this post.  JOY.  I must admit that this word is something I have struggled with during my time as a mom.  If I am going to be honest, it's mostly because I have felt for sometime that I missed out on many of the joys of being a new mom.  I have always wanted children.  Always dreamed of the day that I would give birth to my first baby.  I pictured what that moment would be like.  The absolute and utter joy I would feel when that miracle came into this world.  When I started dating Clint in high school, we would talk about that day.  Some far away day that seemed so unrealistic but was so fun to fantasize about.  As time went on I wanted that day to come more and more.  When Clint and I finally got married that's when it got real.  And the entire year and a half we were trying to get pregnant I focused on that picture.  I meditated on the image of my newborn baby being put into my arms and squeezing them so tight I would never them go.  I imagined the tears that would fill both Clint and my eyes as we stared at this perfect gift in my arms.  I could feel the relief and joy that would rush over me as our dream FINALLY came true.

December 9, 2010 was the day my son came into this world.  The day I had waited for.

 The thing is, though, it happened nothing like this 'dream' I had conjured up in my mind.  Because of Hudson's condition I had to have a c-section.  And due to some unfortunate circumstances with the anesthesia (that I will spare you the details of...but lets just say I was in a bit of pain), I had to be put out the second Hudson was born.  So I remember very little of that day.  I remember lying on the table to begin the c-section.  I remember feeling pain.  I remember hearing the doctor say that the baby was going to be out in 30 seconds, and being so glad because that meant the pain was going to be over soon.  I remember hearing the tiniest bit of crying.  I remember hearing the doctor say it was 7:49.  And then I remember hearing Clint ask if the doctor was going to put me out of my misery and knock me out.  And then the world went black.  That was it.  I didn't see my son's face.  I didn't see my husband's face.  I didn't hold my baby boy close to me.  I didn't experience an ounce of joy.  Just pain.

The first time I saw my son was on Clint's iphone.  I remember staring at these images and feeling so disconnected to the baby that I saw.  I remember wanting to break out into tears because I had missed out on everything.  I missed out on my moment.  I missed out on getting to introduce my son to my family and friends.  I sat up in the recovery room while Clint ushered people into the NICU to meet Hudson.  I remember feeling like it was so unfair that I carried him with me for 9 months and was the last one to meet him.  It felt so unnatural.  I felt empty.  Like my baby had just been taken from me, along with my dream of what this day would look like.   I don't even remember naming Hudson.  I was so groggy that the memory of that conversation with Clint is completely gone.  Every single idea I had of what having my first baby would be like was lost.  And to be honest, I was bitter about it.  I was devastated.  Because it was so hard to let all of that go and know that I would never get it back.

But here's the crazy thing about joy.  Joy floods over us when we least expect it and in the most unusual ways.  Joy is experienced when we let go of our own desires and our ideal pictures.  When we accept what this life has handed us and embrace the amazing blessings that come despite tough circumstances.

I will never forget the joy I felt the first day Hudson was put in my lap.  I grabbed his hand and sobbed uncontrollably.

 I will never forget the joy I felt every time I would see Hudson in the NICU.  I know that is a very general statement, but it is so true.  I had a hard time recovering from my c-section.  I could barely walk, I could barely move.  It was rough.  But when I would get wheeled up to my son's bedside...for those 20 minutes...nothing else would matter.  He poured life and energy into my weak body.  

I will never forget the first time I knew I loved this boy with my entire being.  When I knew he had captured my heart.  As hard as it is to admit...it wasn't the first day he was born.  And hopefully I am not the only mom out there that would confess to that.  But it was on day 5.  I remember it vividly.  It was the night I fell asleep dreaming of his face.  The night that my heart ached for him.  The night I missed my son more than I could bear.  I felt such sorrow that night, but at the same time such joy as I meditated on the overwhelming emotion of truly being captivated by this tiny being that had just come into the world.  Without being separated from him, I'm not sure I would have experienced this truly joyful and precious moment in the quiet of my room.

I will never ever forget the joy I felt on February 11, 2011.  The day my son came home!!!  I am so lucky.  I am so blessed to have this day.  Words cannot describe the relief and the comfort that this day brought.  Our family was whole.  All was right in the world on this day even though Hudson didn't nap well, didn't eat well, and was having a hard time adjusting.  It didn't matter.  He was home.  And my heart was filled with joy.

I wish I could describe the emotions I have had throughout this entire experience.  I wish I could describe the joy I feel every time I pass Kaiser hospital.  Doesn't that sound crazy?  I feel insurmountable joy when I drive by there.  Like something is pulling me towards the front doors.  Beckoning me to come in.  I would have thought I would never want to go there ever again.  That after being there 3 times a day for 65 days and experiencing some of the most traumatizing news I ever have in the darkness of the NICU walls...it seems I would want to run away.  To never return again.  But it is quite the opposite.  Because as terrible as it sometimes was, it was Hudson's home.  For 2 months it is where my baby boy lived.  It was my only connection to him.  It was the place I got to see his smiling face.  It was place I got to hold his hand.  It was the place I got to meet and get to know my son.  It was a huge part of Hudson's story and our story as a family.  It is a part of us all.  And it always will be.  And for that reason, I can feel nothing but joy at the thought of it.  

And that, my friends, is the crazy thing about joy.  Happiness comes and go.  It fades when life gets tough.  But joy.  True joy that God bestows upon us can only be experienced when we dive head first into each of our unique stories.  When we stop comparing.  When we stop wishing.  When we stop dreaming, and we just live.  We live this life alongside those that we love and we soak up every ounce of joy there is.  Because no matter how dark life gets...there is always light.  

This little boy is one huge light in my life.  He reminds me that life is so precious.  And every night when I put him to sleep I squeeze him a little tighter and pray a little more fervently than I probably would have without this experience.  Thank you to you all for bringing our family, and our son more love and support than most 2 months old will ever receive.  We are blessed.  We are overflowing with JOY!