24 Hours 

It’s been 24 hours since I first laid eyes on you. Red-faced and screaming so loud I could hardly hear anything else. You were a stranger to me, just one day ago.

You were placed in my arms by our wonderful social worker, and immediately I needed to protect you. I shushed you out to the car where we picked up your things. 2 paper bags with some clothes, diapers, wipes, and a can of formula. 

It is the strangest thing to have a newborn without postpartum bleeding, nursing cramps, cracked nipples, and a whacked out hormone drop. But, some how my body is wanting to feel these things when I hold you. You do not smell like you came from me. Your scent is entirely different, but my body let’s down milk when I hold you close, my womb aches when I feed you your bottle. The sun is setting right now, and I sense that old postpartum blues feeling creep up where I am homesick in my own home. 

It’s so familiar to have a newborn in the house and yet this time it’s also different and unknown. I’ve never fed a newborn formula in a bottle, and certainly not at the same time while nursing my biological baby. Having to watch the clock for feeds and log ounces in and diapers out feels formulaic (no pun intended!) and foreign. Trying to distinguish between your cry for comfort and your cry for hunger is something I’ve not had to do, since a breast has always fixed either problem in the past. 

You’ve not been alive very long, and you’ve been with me for less than that, but some how I love you so much, my heart could burst. And whether you are here for 1 day, 10 days, or many more I’ll keep loving you. 

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One thought on “24 Hours 

  1. […] a Tuesday afternoon last October we got the call. “Would you take a 5 day old baby boy?” 3 hours later we were pulling into the driveway with a tiny stranger, screaming both from […]

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