Four Weeks

I got up in time to shower and get ready this morning, but the words on my heart are like lead in my feet.  It is cold in Kentucky now.  I woke up to the sound of the weather man saying "it's colder in the Bluegrass than it is in Fargo!"

And my sleepy mind thought only of the old movie, of Joe, and somehow, of Fried Green Tomatoes.  And his impish little grin saying "I done r-u-n-n-o-f-t". 

That's how my mind works in the morning.  With Judah curled up in my arms and the bedroom dark and echoey.  Sometime in the night, whatever show I was watching on TV switches over to infomercials and weather reports.  And the thermostat drops from 72 degrees to 65.  The blankets I'd thrown off, I'm now scrambling to pull on top of us.

Judah is four weeks old today.  And we have slipped into some sense of normalcy.  A quiet sense of knowing each other, of protecting each other, of surviving together.  I'd like to think I saw him smile at me when he opened his sleepy eyes this morning.  But I'm wishful.

He has eyelashes.  Did I tell you that?  And he's gaining weight at a slow but steady rate, filling in his old man wrinkles.  His neck is strong and his ever-changing eyes looked green yesterday.

I had to introduce him to a bottle last week, because, I say as I sigh deeply, I went back to work this past Monday.

Three weeks in, three weeks of being a mommy, three weeks of Judah being alive, and I am back in the game.  Waking up to alarms and putting on real clothes and having to pay some mind to my appearance.  Back to the real world where people, who have only ever seen me pregnant, are marveling at my narrow waist and big behind.

Three weeks later and I'm back to 9-5's.  And packed lunches.  Kissing Judah's sweet neck goodbye in the mornings and waiting anxiously to see him again in the afternoons.

This is not ideal.

But I am thankful.

Thankful for a job where people care about me.  Care about Judah.  Who helped me make ends meet.  Who took a risk on me.  Who I enjoy talking to.

All these things make the coming back more bearable.

Today, Judah is four weeks old.

He's sleeping on aunt Liv again right now.  As I drink my coffee I secretly wish I could just steal him and go back to bed and avoid all that is going to be thrown at me today.

Today is a big day.  Today is a scary day.

And I am so tired of scary days.

I am depleted of the strength I need to deal with this even for one more day... but I have to.

My story is full of things I've had to endure.  Triumph out of necessity.  Progression because of "had to"s, responsibility, and sheer... gumption... for lack of a better word.

Not because I am a good person.  But because I love my son.  Not because I am a strong woman.  But because I know what needs to be done, and I must do it.

Do hard things.  

This, perhaps, is my life's motto.

So I will go today.  Reluctantly.  Hesitantly.  Hold my breath and wonder what it is I truly want -- because until I know the truth, I won't understand my heart.  Like flipping a coin, your heart's reaction comes mid-air.  We just don't know sometimes... And we certainly don't know what to do.

What I wouldn't give to just settle quietly in this home today.  Stir up the creative energy I feel and produce something beautiful... clean the dirt off things, drink more coffee, wear less clothes, snuggle him closer.  Coax that smile again.  Oh, I am waiting for it.

But today is Thursday.  He is four weeks old.  And I will slip him down into a Bjorn and we will go traipsing around campus, discussing ethical issues and human behavior theory, and he will listen to our voices and look into the lights.  Because this world is so big.  So big.  And it has not hurt him yet.  Not in a way I cannot fix.

Not yet anyway.

And then I will go.  Damned blue paper, you will be the first thing, which could hurt him.

This morning I spend mustering up all my gumption, all my courage, all my love, to try and figure out how to protect him from that hurt.  At my own expense, perhaps.  But it doesn't matter anymore.  Protect is the word on my heart.

He is too young to know the world can be such a dangerous place.