One Week Later…

Eight days have passed by. Eight days of relearning our places in the world. Eight days of coming together anew. Eight days of intense bonding, all three of us. Where there used to be only two, now there are three. Where there used to just be one that could soothe, now there are two. In the midst of my sorrow, a new bond was forged. In the midst of my darkness, a new light was found. It has been eight days.

Three of those days were immensely painful. I sat in my office, alone. I wrote, alone. I cried, alone. While my husband was upstairs, cradling our freshly weaned child, I sat alone. While my husband comforted our crying baby, I cried alone. On day two, I cried like I have never cried before. Sad, empty, alone, I wept for the broken bond that I would never experience with our son again. On day three, I felt a little more at ease, but I was still unsure of my presence in this new routine.

On day four, I joined them upstairs. I watched as my husband rocked our baby into quite bliss. I watched as my husband sang lullabies to Max and rubbed his head, cheeks, arms, and feet. I watched as my little boy contently fell into silent slumber. I watched in amazement. I watched with joy, pride, and a little sorrow.

On day five, I sat closer to my boys. I rubbed my child’s head, cheeks, arms, and feet. I sang the lullabies that we listened to together. I got to lay my blissfully sleepy child down in his crib. On day six, I held him while my husband sat close to us.

We have started a new routine. A routine where mommy and daddy are equally important. A routine that requires both of us to be complete. In losing one relationship, we have gained so much more than I ever though possible. We have become a closer family.

Eight days have passed by, and where there used to be only two, now there are three. I could not be happier! 

Just before being put down for bed.