I still remember leaving the hospital that day. First, waiting to be discharged. Me from my obstetricians and Jack from the nursery. Once that was done, we had to wait, wait for our nurse to get a wheelchair. I wasn’t allowed to walk, I had to be wheeled down to the car. I thought this was quite odd and even asked if I could just walk myself. The nurse looked at me strange and was very adamant, this was procedure. I must be wheeled.
They were leaving me to fend for myself and nurture a child, yet I couldn’t walk?
My nurse was too busy to wheel me out, so they enlisted an older lady (a hospital volunteer) to wheel me down from our perch on the fourth floor down to the basement. The hubs walked out to fetch our car, and the lady struck up a conversation with me. Asking how much Jack weighed. I noted I would be saying this number a lot, so I should actually really know the answer, instead of saying 8 pounds… and picking an ounce. She said she liked bigger babies because they don’t have as many problems, slept longer, etc.
Being me, I joked and said, he might have problems if they are letting me take him home! She laughed as the hubs pulled up. He grabbed the infant carrier, as the lady wheeled me to the car and said just figure out his four cries and you’ll be fine.
She then smiled, said goodbye, and closed the door.
I looked back at Jack while waving at the lady and said to myself, Four cries? What?
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It was one of those sleep-deprived nights when I came to Paul and asked if Jack sounded different to him. Does that cry sound different than his nighttime cry? The husband looked at me strange and said No? I don’t know? It was one of those male responses, not knowing the answer that wouldn’t make me cry.
I let him into the idea of there being different cries, and he said you’ll figure them out, in time; it’s only Week 2.
I broke down in hysterics stating I don’t know? I don’t know the difference? I’m not good at this, and I think I mentioned something about him taking paternity leave because I obviously couldn’t be a good mother not knowing his cries…
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Honestly, I haven’t thought about it since… Until this Friday afternoon.
I was finishing up cleaning the kitchen while Jack was in his swing; he was getting fussy and started to cry. I walked over to him, picked him up, hugged him, and said you’re just bored baby.
I stopped and thought to myself, wait, I know because of his cry. He’s just bored! I know why he’s crying bit*hes! (sorry for the profanity)
And that’s the day I realized – I’m a mom! Or at least I’m on the right track!
I’m sure there will be many times I don’t know why he’s crying, but at least I’ve got a few down!