I was getting in lots of snuggle time with my newborn baby, learning how to feed him, recovering from a c-section, and trying to sleep whenever possible.
Even though I was still a little out of it on that first night we spent as a family of three, there are a few things I never want to forget.
Once our friends and family had gone for the night, and it was just the three of us, I remember trying to sleep as much as possible. While the pain meds helped a lot, the world's loudest leg cuffs (used to prevent blood clots) made sure to wake me up every 15 minutes.
But that wasn't the only noise that kept waking me up.
The room would be dark and mostly quiet, when our new roomie would let out a piercing, high-pitched squeak. That was how he kicked off each crying spell, which usually didn't last long.
Even if I'd been in a deep sleep (as deep as you can sleep when hooked up to a gazillion monitors and other fun medical devices), I'd wake up with a giggle. That was our baby boy. (Sounding like a baby girl.)
It was the cutest sound I'd ever heard.
One of the most memorable parts of this first night with my baby boy was also one of the most amazing to me.
I don't remember when it was, whether it was right before or just after a feeding, but I remember consciously feeling his breath. I specifically remember thinking, "You just breathed on me!?"
It was (and still is!) awesome to me. And I don't mean "awesome" in the over-used, figurative sense; I mean it literally.
I was in awe of how God had used my husband and me to create a whole new person. Less than nine months prior, he didn't even exist. He was the quintessential twinkle in our eyes. Now here he was, breathing his sweet baby's breath on me.
What a miracle.
Another thing I remember thinking was how strange it was that his cry didn't stress me out. I wasn't one to be relaxed around a crying baby, but with Bryson, I knew he was mine.
It wasn't that I didn't take him seriously, but I knew it was up to me (and Jeremy) to help fix the problem, and stressing wasn't going to get us there. Thankfully, Bryson pretty much always has a reason for his cries, so he's not too tough to troubleshoot.
I also did a lot of praying.
Every time I closed my eyes to go to sleep, I thanked God for giving us such a precious miracle. That lasted for the first several days, or weeks, even.
I couldn't close my eyes to rest without taking the chance to praise God for our huge (yet oh-so-tiny!) blessing. I also thanked Him for my husband.
From the time I met him half our lifetimes ago, I knew he'd make a great dad one day. This first night was proof that I was right.
Jeremy was on watch all night long.
I'm not sure he slept more than a few minutes at a time. I think it was a mixture of his protective daddy bear instincts, the fact that people kept coming in and out all night, and the notoriously uncomfortable fold-out chair/sofa contraption he was trying to sleep on.
It wasn't until the night was almost over that a nurse kindly asked, "You know that folds out all the way, right?" (Even still, there's no way all six feet and two inches of him could fit comfortably on that thing.)
Any time a nurse or doctor came in to mess with Bryson, he'd literally jump up to be by his side, following his baby boy everywhere they would let him. Any time Bryson started crying, he was on it.
I was in and out of sleep all night, and waking up to the sight of my two guys getting to know each other was like a sweet dream.
Squeaks, prayers, and baby's breath. That, my friends, was our most memorable anniversary night yet.
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