Love is Not What I Expected

I didn't think it would amount to anything, this giant leap into the world of parenting. Two babies, born in-vitro, 22 months apart. We were starting a family, but I didn't think it would amount to much. Or maybe I just couldn't fathom what we would become.

Sleep was a dream, those first three months a blur. Hey, some people function better on a fucked up sleep schedule than others.

I remember soothing my little girl to sleep to the sounds of The Grateful Dead. "It Hurts Me Too."

Our anthem, the only song that would put her back to sleep, or was it because we danced?

I rocked, I soothed, I spun a graceful waltz across the carpet in a darkened bedroom.

And my son! The first child. The experiment. Because let's face it, I hadn't done this before. Not really. My older daughter visited; stayed for extended periods of time, but I didn't raise her, not really. His first months were truly a blur. A wonder.

His first moments out of the womb: Wide-eyed, bright and examining everything in the nursery. Recognizing my voice? My presence? I remember:

The first time he fell asleep on my chest. Nothing would calm him. I laid on the couch with a fussy bundle in a royal blue footed onesy; a Gap beanie on his head. A bundle that once fit on my chest and slept as I slept.

And I remember Striped Jumper Photograph day. The window light perfect, the eyes reflecting just so. A peaceful moment to hold onto.

But I never thought it would come to so much. That I would get past my own demons to guide this ship through rough and calm seas, damn the metaphor.

I remind myself through these memories, through the photographs we took, that this family has become a vital entity, and also that moments weren't so important, awful or absolute in their power to affect as they once seemed. These memories change as time moves on, but we have made love a constant.

I don't mean it in the fluffy pink teddy bear red valentine's box of chocolates sense. Real love can be a four letter word sometimes. Hard won, fought for over days, months, years, and often gratuitous.

But it's the last thing I expected when we started our family. I didn't really know what it meant.