Sunday, May 4, 2014
Sunday with Frankie
Our visitors have left for the day, Frankie is sleeping, Frank went out to get himself dinner, and I'm sitting here with the laptop trying to gather my thoughts. It's so hard to write right now—so hard to find something coherent to say in the fog of ideas and sensations and emotions. I am going to just write little snippets and memories of what happened today so I can remember it for later.
Early this morning Frank and I sat down for pancakes, eggs and sausages, courtesy of room service—our first meal together since Frankie was born. Halfway through, the hospital chaplain, a sweet elderly nun, came to visit. She brought Holy Communion for me, which I didn't expect and wasn't sure I should consume, but she said "Hospitals are like combat zones—the usual man-made rules don't apply," and since it was my only chance to receive the Eucharist that day I decided to listen to her. We prayed together before and after, and she told us how inspiring it was to see a young family open to life, which melted our hearts—especially as I'd been up nursing Frankie for several hours the night before and felt the opposite of inspiring. God bless her.
Frank left for Mass at our parish and to stop at home for a few odds and ends we'd forgotten—notably my Boppy pillow and nursing cover, ammunition in the breastfeeding battle. (Nursing has gone really well so far, I should clarify! But I've heard from everyone that it can get really difficult so I'm trying to stock up tools to make it work long-term.) He came back bearing congratulations and promises of prayers from our friends at church. My mom had come over while he was gone and some of our friends were planning to come visit in the afternoon, so I decided it was time to lose the hospital gown and start dressing like some semblance of a human being. Yoga pants, nursing tank and loose cardigan went on, with help from Mum. I even managed to put on mascara and instantly felt like a million bucks.
Soon Giedre arrived, bearing Gatorade and a stack of chick flicks—the way to this postpartum lady's heart. Frank and I plan to watch the classic What a Girl Wants tonight. Can you believe he's never seen it?? Then Theresa arrived and I got to sit back and bask in contentment as they oohed and ahhed over my baby. I never realized how wonderful it is for a mother to see other people loving on your child. It makes you love those people ten times more. Giedre brought her camera and took the most stunning pictures while she was here. My sister Cathy came too, with her boyfriend, and everyone passed Frankie around and enjoyed meeting him and it was just lovely.
A lot of people think he looks like my brother. I can definitely see it! His strawberry patch is like me, though, and the big hands and feet come from his dad. It will be so fun to watch and see who he looks like and how he changes as he grows up.
I want to pause and say how much I adore seeing Frank in his new role as dad. Actually I could probably write an entire book about how much I love this new stage in our relationship. I'm more in love with him every day as I see the way he is with our son—how he flagged down a nurse to give him a lesson on the proper way to swaddle, how he snuggles and kisses Frankie every chance he gets, how he can't stop texting pictures of Frankie to his entire family, how we sit together staring at our baby and whispering things like "Isn't he cute?" I could go on and on with a million more stories from just the past two days. The nurses have even commented on it, saying, "You have such a supportive husband!" I beamed.
Well, the night got away from me. Frankie woke up needing to be changed, then the nurse brought me more pain meds and Frank got back from Chipotle and next thing you know it's 11 pm. So I'll just finish with two silly stories.
Frankie adores to be swaddled, like so many babies, and when he's all wrapped up in his blanket he looks like a little baby burrito. Given my Chipotle obsession throughout the entire pregnancy, I think that Chipotle is his mother ship and Frankie actually thinks he is a burrito.
Yesterday Lillian texted me this line from one of our favorite movies, 7 Brides for 7 Brothers: "Ma named him Frankincense, 'cause he smelled so sweet." That cracked me up and we've been calling him Frankincense ever since. It might just have to become his nickname.