Ronan,
I know I’m supposed to sleep when your Poppy sister sleeps, but even in these early morning hours, I just can’t seem to do so. It doesn’t matter the lack of sleep I’m getting due to breastfeeding her, holding her, or obsessively watching her sleep because I’m terrified she’s just going to up and stop breathing. At this point, I’m just running off adrenaline, and that’s o.k. Sleep stopped being my friend a long time ago.
So, do you want to hear the story about the day your sister was born? I know you already know it, but I’ll recap it for those who don’t.
The last few weeks of my pregnancy, I was miserable. Miserable in a way that had me begging day after day for your sister to finally get here. You know I’m not a good pregnant person at all, and those last few weeks, I was beyond done — mentally and physically. Dr. Schwartz was well aware of this, too, which is why I convinced her to strip my membranes to try to jump-start my labor, the same way she did with you.
I went into her office on a Tuesday, and she did it to try to get things moving. It didn’t work. I went back on Thursday, and once again she stripped away, and I left her office hoping your baby sister would make her entrance into the world soon, just like you did after I had this done.
I ended up going to the hospital due to some bleeding, and pretty strong contractions had started as well. I thought it would be go time, but as the night wore on, the contractions stopped. I had to stay overnight so they could monitor me, but I was released the very next day. As you can imagine, I was out of my mind upset. I may be a patient person about most things in life, but the end of a pregnancy is not one of them.
I also had myself convinced that Poppy was either going to be born dead or was never going to come out at all because I had fabricated her in my deranged head. Once home, I stayed in bed the entire weekend, not wanting to talk to or see anyone. If there was ever a time in my life you could say I was depressed, it was those final weeks of pregnancy.
On Sunday night around 10 p.m., just as your daddy came to bed, I was huffing and puffing about how miserable I was and how I hated the world, so I got up to do the late-night laundry I’ve become so accustomed to. Just as I was cursing the pregnancy gods above, I noticed a little drip, drip, drip running down my legs. I walked down the hallway, and the puddle slowly trickled out of me.
I entered our bedroom and said to your daddy, “I think my water just broke.”
He jumped out of bed, panicked, and told me to grab my stuff so we could rush to the hospital. I told him, “No way. I have to shower first. This could take forever, and I’m not bringing Poppy into this world until I shower and shave my legs.”
I calmly showered, dressed, and then we headed to the hospital. We were admitted right away, and Dr. Schwartz was called. She ordered Pitocin to get things progressing faster, as I was still only about 4 cm dilated. By this time, it was around midnight, and I geared up for the night while your daddy quietly slept away on the couch.
My contractions started to intensify, and the epidural could not have come soon enough. I couldn’t get ahold of Dr. JoRo, who was back in Sedona. She had been with me Thursday night but went home after I was released. My doula — your daddy — was just not cutting it as I screamed at him about the pain and having to feed myself ice chips because he was so exhausted he couldn’t stay awake. Luckily, I had a wonderful nurse who helped me through everything while your daddy got his beauty sleep to prepare for the big day. Apparently, labor is hard work when you’re a dude.
I was actually quite proud of the self-control I exercised, as it took everything in me not to throw ice chips at your daddy’s head while he slept and I sat there cursing through the contractions that were growing stronger and closer together.
Around 5:15 a.m., I started to push your sister out. I had your blanket on my chest and did my best to remain composed as I said your name over and over in my head. Three pushes were all it took, and your baby sister was placed in my arms almost immediately.
I was overcome with so many emotions it was as if I couldn’t feel anything at all. I just remember staring at her and whispering, “Thank you, Ronan,” into her tiny ear.
She looked up at me with big, wide eyes that already seemed full of wisdom. Your sister was born at 5:35 a.m., 6 lbs 11 oz, with tons of dark hair and utterly perfect in every way. She let out one small cry as she entered this world, but that has been about the only peep she has made. I have never seen a more serene or peaceful baby in my life.
I spent the next few hours staring at her in disbelief over how much she looks like you. Your daddy and I cannot get over it. I think I went 48 hours without any sleep. My adrenaline was through the roof. All I could do was stare at your little sister as I slowly allowed myself to fall in love with her. I needed time to process everything and time to bond with this new baby girl, as you know how bittersweet this is for all of us.
Dr. JoRo arrived around 10 a.m. and stayed for much of the day. She left once your brothers arrived so we could have private time together as a family. It hurt to see your brothers walk through that door without you, but it was also exquisitely beautiful. They were so excited and proud to meet their new baby sister. I think they were both relieved to see she was finally here, safe and sound.
We kept visitors to a minimum, just as I said we would. I needed everything to be calm and quiet — not only for me, but for Poppy as well. As the day went on, I sat and watched through our window as an unexpected rainstorm swept across the entire valley. It wasn’t predicted. It simply appeared out of nowhere.
I know you are always with me, Ro, but that storm on the day your Poppy sister was born felt like confirmation. It was as if it were our own private signal. You are such a spicy little monkey boy, and I spent much of the day smiling as I watched the rain pour down.
Mr. Sparkly Eyes came by both days I was in the hospital. The first day, he just popped in to take a peek at his new goddaughter. The second day, he stayed longer to sit with me and check in on how I was handling everything. He told me I was such a natural at being a mom. I smiled and told him I knew — that this was the easy part for me.
I told him how proud you would be to have him as the godfather of your baby sister and how I knew you would have chosen him and only him for this role, as he is the only one extraordinary enough. He will be the best at watching over your baby sister, just like he helped watch over you whenever he could. I know you would be so happy about this. I am deeply honored to have him play this role in her life.
We were released 24 hours later, and it took us that long to decide on her name. We had originally planned on Ireland Ronan, which I still adore, but for some reason it no longer felt right. Your daddy and I went back and forth endlessly. I just could not part with Poppy. I didn’t want it to be a nickname or an afterthought. It had come to mean too much to me.
Your daddy suggested a few beautiful names like Sophia and Alexandria, but this baby has been Poppy since she was five weeks in the womb. Nothing else felt aligned. We sealed the deal with Poppy Ronan with a kiss and a smile. I know her name would be Ronan-approved. Poppy Ronan Thompson sounds like the sweetest thing ever. It fits her perfectly.
We have been home now and are all doing well. I did not spiral into postpartum depression like everyone feared I would. I have been quieter and have not seen many people, but that is not depression. It is simply the four of us savoring this sacred, quiet time together.
I wondered how this would feel — having a new little life to care for. I wondered if the hole in my heart would disappear when Poppy was born. I have come to understand that this is not the case and never will be.
My heart has expanded. It has grown larger. But the hole remains. No one can fill it because it is not meant to be filled. It is there to remind me every day how much I love you, how much I will always love you, and how much your absence hurts. The birth of your sister has proven that if even she cannot mend it, then it was never meant to be mended.
I will live with this hole for the rest of my life, and I am learning to be o.k. with that. It makes me stronger. It sharpens me. It propels me. I will let my pain do meaningful things in this life to make you proud.
Alright, my little man. I’m going to go. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your beautiful sister. Thank you for getting her here safe and sound. I promise to be the best mama in the world to her and to teach her everything about you. I cannot wait to learn from her the things I know you have already whispered into her soul.
You are the best big brother in the world. We love and miss you so much. I’m so sorry you are not here with us.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.
Sweet dreams, baby doll.
xoxo
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