Today, I'm joining The Thankful Project again to talk about a memory. Today's actual prompt is something I've learned, but I'm a few days off and this post was on my heart!
We knew that we were able to go home that morning, but the time had crept up on me. I was expecting a very rigid release schedule, with nurses asking tons of questions, having me fill out a stack of paperwork, and then, I don't know, maybe they'd all stand there and watch us leave? I'd never done any of this before and I was pleasantly surprised, and a little thrown off, at how easy the process was. So much so, that I really didn't have any of my things, or Noah's, ready to go when we got the go ahead.
I did have a rough moment earlier that morning, before the easy release, in which some confusing information from two different nurses left me in a ridiculous discharge class by myself, a hormonal, tearful mess. My morning nurse had told me I couldn't bring Noah with me to the class and that our parents couldn't keep him in the room because they didn't have designated wristbands. Michael was at his parents' hotel down the street getting an hour nap so he could drive us home, so I was forced to walk Noah down to the nursery, in tears the entire way from anger and physical pain, and leave him there while I walked all the way back to the class I had to take. Long story short, it turned out that the nurse was wrong and Noah could have come with me to the class. Instead, I had to leave him in the nursery, something we hadn't done the entire time we were there, and walk back to a class full of parents holding their babies. Michael wasn't there, I was still in a lot of pain, and I was livid. Once I finally walked to the nursery again and wheeled Noah back to our room, I had a little emotional breakdown.
At that point, it was still early, but I just wanted to get out of the hospital. I laid back in bed, nursed Noah, talked and cried good tears with our parents, and then we were told we could go ahead and get ready to go. I signed a sheet of paper, they did one last assessment of Noah and me, and I never saw the nurse again. I guess I was waiting for someone to come back in and walk us out, but no one ever did. We gathered up all of our things, got Noah dressed in warm clothes, brought in the car seat, and made sure he was strapped in well. Before we left, Michael's dad prayed over us and for Noah, and I think it was then that I finally realized what parenthood was going to mean for our lives.
We walked out the door, found our way to the parking garage, and I stayed with Noah while Michael went to get the car. Michael's mom stayed with me and as we were standing and waiting with twenty other people, I remember thinking that I just wanted to go back up into that room. It wasn't the room I wanted, really, but the security, the protection, the last place where he was inside me and safe from the world. Now he was exposed, and I felt exposed, too, and a little nervous.
We loaded into the car, said our goodbyes to Michael's parents, and started for home. I remember telling Michael, "Can you believe this? He's actually here, he's coming home with us, I can't believe it". It was an exhilarating feeling. Reality set in, and the reality was beautiful and scary and wonderful all at the same time. And the reality now is somewhat the same. Motherhood is a scary, beautiful, wonderful journey, and I'm thankful that I get to experience that with Noah.