Shiny Happy People

When I gave birth, I knew that I wanted to remember as many details about those first few months as was possible.  15 months later, it's interesting to consider which things "stuck".  For example, Joe and I spent the first couple of weeks sleeping in the living room next to Andy in his pack n play bassinet.  One of us slept on the couch (usually Joe), one of us slept on the air mattress (usually me).  And, at one point, we discovered that Andy fell asleep while listening to the classical music channel on our t.v. and, thus, all three of us began to fall asleep to it.  And, Joe and I would both wake, alarmed, because there were bright flashes in our face as the images on the screen changed.

Looking back, I have absolutely no idea why we thought we needed to sleep in the living room.  When we moved Andy into the bedroom, he slept there, too.  And he required no classical music.

Another thing that I recall was when Andy and I made the drive to visit my Grandma.  We got there with no trouble, and had a wonderful evening.  On the return trip, however, things weren't so fantastic.  What should've been an hour and a half turned into more than three and a half hours, most of which involved me sitting in stopped traffic on a highway, staring at a sign that indicated that I only needed to move 1/2 a mile to get to an exit that, while still being a detour, would get me home with my 5 week old child.  Needless to say, Joe, sitting at home and staring outside at the aftermath of rip-roaring windgusts and heavy rain storms, was not thrilled about the circumstances.  Neither was I.  While we sat in the stopped traffic, I found myself dealing with the need to feed my hungry son, which meant I needed to reach my arm back and stick a bottle of breastmilk in his mouth, and hold it there.  (Granted, my situation would've seemed even more dire if, in fact, I'd been able to breast feed).  Once I finally made it to The Exit, I discovered that my gas tank was hovering dangerously close to "E", and, by the time I finished getting gas, I had a crying son again (and no more bottles).  I quickly learned how to use the hand pump, and pulled off into the parking lot of a local realtor's office.  Finally, 2 hours later than we should've, we were safely at home, and Joe's heart rate could return to normal.

And, of course, there's the wonderful job of associative memory.  I cannot, and hopefully never will be able to, listen to "Shiny Happy People" by R.E.M. without thinking of my son's birth.  We heard that song over and over again in those first few weeks, and, now, it does its part to remind us those first few moments of joy with our son.  It's a true gift.

I am particularly nostalgic about my son's birth right now, both because I heard that song very recently and, moreso, because my family is celebrating the birth of my nephew, Elijah.  I've only seen pictures, but he's a beauty and a joy and a blessing in the life of his family.  I get to meet him in a couple of weeks and I can't wait!

When I look at Andy, or pictures of Elijah, or at the faces of the kids who are stranded in Haiti, I always find myself wondering what they will do in their lives.  It's amazing to think about all of the possibilities and, in the case of the Haiti orphans, it is nauseating to think about how many won't get to realize their dreams.  Joe and I watched part of a news package last night that was filmed at one of the destroyed orphanages in Port-Au-Prince, and we had to turn it off because it was too hard to watch.  And, yet, there are people who still refuse to do a thing, even if they have the means to.  That, my friends, is the most depressing part of all.

Anyway, though that is a very sad note, I still need to end on a happy one:

1. The safe arrival of sweet baby Elijah.
2. A chance to spend today with my husband (since he has the holiday off).
3. Indian food.  Yum.
4. Thermal-knit shirts.
5. Fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies and milk.  Again, yum.