Normal is Relative

When Emerson was born the Drs. told us everything looked great. Everything looked normal.

That one word.

Normal.

Some people would hear that about their brand new baby and be offended or wonder if 'normal' wasn't perfect, or great, or whatever.

For us, it was the biggest sigh of relief we have ever, and will ever take.

Emerson went straight to recovery with us, he stayed in the post-partum room with us. No specialists were called, no people taking him to other areas of the hospital.

No tests outside of the ordinary. And it felt so damn good to be ordinary!

Now, we've been home over a week, and things are normal.

He eats, he sleeps, he cries when his diaper is changed. He likes to be snuggled, he likes his rocker, he makes cute sounds that don't indicate distress.

When he eats we don't have to do math around fortifying his formula or milk. I don't have to cover myself in a towel for the potential exodus of everything he just finished eating, because he has reflux like Linda Blair. I don't have to switch nipple levels based on how quickly or slowly he eats, there aren't multiple medications a day.

Best of all, we can hold him unencumbered. No figuring out what wire goes where. No making sure my chair is close enough to the monitors to reach, or only being able to hold him in one position because of where his wires are.

There is none of that, as there was for Kenzie and Spencer. We feed him, burp him, snuggle him, change him, dress him, cross our fingers that last big bottle will knock him out for a bit. It is all so normal.

But we have never done normal, so to us, it is strange.

I catch myself moving extra towels over when I feed him. We both comment on how comforting and odd it is to see his eyes open so often and feel like he actually is looking at us.

Spencer, for reference only really opened his eyes a small amount, a very few times his whole life.

Don't get me wrong, these times are anything but normal.

What I wouldn't give to be able to have people come meet him. To have Kenzie in daycare so I could give him more attention, and heal a bit more easily. So I didn't feel like I was failing Kenzie some in the amount of Dora we are watching.

How I would love to walk through target with him in his carseat and just be able to glow in the knowing that yes, that is a baby, and yes he is my son.

Instead of avoiding the baby boys section for fear of breaking down like I did with Spencer.

So yes, I would have loved my maternity leave dreams to be living their best life right now.

But the fact that while life is anything but, my baby boy is NORMAL is the biggest comfort anyone could have ever given me, especially now.

I like to think Spencer had a hand in his little brothers arrival. Watching over us and him.

Sending us a sly wink, not to worry, because he's got this.

Most people don't dream of being told they are normal, and even saying it kinda sounds off. But for us, normal is amazing.