Chapter Fifteen: "Learning to be Held, Together"

Babies have few jobs in life. They are here to be cute and poop and pee and eat and cry and be snuggled. All they want to know and feel is the comfort of their mama's and daddy's and the people who love them. They should be held, as much as possible. Talked to and someone should take a million pictures of them.

So what do you do when you can't hold your baby?

You stroke your little ones head and touch their toes and fingers. You learn how powerful your voice is and you talk, a lot. You sit close to them. You be a presence. 

I have learned to love Dean in whole new ways. 

And just when I was getting the hang of not being able to hold him, I was all the sudden told we could. And just when I was getting the hang of asking for the nurses help to get him all settled, we moved and I was told I could hold him without help. 

He sees a physical therapist now, about three to four times a week. They come and talk to him and coo over how cute he is. They help him move his little arms and legs, they pick him up. They bring his hands to the middle of his chest, where his beautiful patched up heart beats. They stretch out his arms and legs. They tilt his head down so he doesn't arch his back so much. 

They tell me how important it is to hold him when he's awake. 

Yesterday, she told me that he is learning how to be handled, how to be held. 

My infant son doesn't know what it's like to be held. 

This is something I didn't anticipate. I didn't realize...so many weeks, he went so many weeks out of my reach. He was always snuggled up in the blankets, in a little nest. He would turn to my voice, and now he has to learn to respond to my touch. 

For a hot minute, this made me so angry for him. So angry for all these babies. So angry at the world and sin and death. So angry that my little tiny baby didn't know what it was like to be held. When I pick him up, his eyes get super wide and he arches his back against me. When he's in my arms, he closes his eyes. You would think this is a good thing, but his therapist was actually telling me this is a sign he is shutting down.

That merely being held could be too much for him. 

I hold him in spurts. When he is alert and awake. I get his eyes to track me, we sing a song I sang to Ellie, a song I still sing to her sometimes. I help him move his arms, legs, and his fingers. We make a fish face with his mouth, to help him learn how to pucker. 

I am teaching my son, almost seven weeks late, what Mama feels like. What skin feels like. What his fingers and arms do. Because he doesn't know. I can't get it out of my mind that he didn't know how to be held...and then, I realized, this is what I was learning too...

We spend our lives learning how to be independent. Learning how to do things on our own, and this is not a bad thing. I think we take it too far sometimes. We think it means that we can't show weakness or that we can't allow ourselves to be carried through things. 

But oh man, more and more, I've needed to be carried through all this. 

I need my husband to carry me when I feel like not pumping in the middle of the night. 

I need my Daddy to carry me when I forget what questions I should be asking. 

I need my Mommy to carry me when I feel like we will never go home and when I worry about my little girl. 

I need my sons Godparents to carry me when I forget the deep truths of Scripture. 

I need my brothers when I feel like I'm alone, their calls and texts and cards...give me such lift. 

I need my older sisters-in-law when I need to talk about anything else, or need a friend to talk to, or when I need a cup of coffee. 

I need my Church family to lift us up and carry our prayers for the days when I feel to weary to do anything but crawl into our bed. 

I need my God to carry me through the despair and impatience and frustration. 

I need to learn to be Held, just like my little boy is learning to be Held. We are learning together, he and I, how to best battle the weary days, the long days. We are learning together, he and I, how to be joyful together on the days when he does well. He is reminding me to slow down, because he doesn't like going to fast. 

It is a learning curve. We don't always get it right, he and I. Sometimes Dean is so stiff that I am literally coaxing his body to allow me to pick him up. Sometimes I am so bent on being strong that God has to remind me that His arms are here, and that He is stronger than me and that's WHY I can be weak. 

Learn to be Held. 

Learn to allow Him to Hold you.