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I’m a crier. Not like a town crier…hear ye, hear ye; but an emotional crier. I cry at everything and anything. Movies, books, tv commercials. I cried when Ol Yeller was shot, when Ariel said “good bye” to her daddy in The Little Mermaid, and yes, when
Bambi’s mother was killed. Ask my daughter what I was like by the final act of Godspell at her college last spring! Each episode of A Baby Story has me blubbering by the end. I guess you could say I am an “emotional mess.”
That being said, you can imagine what I was like the actual day Riley was born. It was a long day, but at 5:05 pm, when her tiny head poked out, I was sobbing. “She’s beautiful” I kept telling the nurses and the Douala, “Look at those perfect little lips.” “Yes…” they said smiling. In their heads I’m sure they were thinking “Now get out of my way so that I can do my job!” I stood just mesmerized by this tiny person who had just entered the world. I touched her tiny fingers and tiny toes counting each one. I looked her up and down and marveled at her perfect construction. I was convinced she was the most beautiful baby that had ever been born at Heywood Hospital!
As of now, Riley has been living with me for a little over 5 months. I haven’t counted how many diapers I have changed or bottles I have made. We’ve been to the doctor for check-ups and immunizations, ear infections and tummy troubles. We’ve visited WIC for formula and A Baby Center in Hyannis for diapers and wipes. So many people I know have given us clothes and toys, a highchair and an exersaucer, and I have received many positive responses to my blog. Riley and I are grateful to have been blessed with so many friends. And even with all the positives that have occurred, I have shed many tears.
Having a baby at 50 was not on my bucket list. My daughter is about to graduate from college this month and is engaged to be married in the near future. I was an
“empty nester,” yet all of a sudden I have the responsibility again of an innocent being. Gone are the impromptu dinners out with my boyfriend. Or getting in the car with my daughter and driving around playing “tourist”, just because we can. Going out to dinner now requires planning. Packing a diaper bag and being sure to be home early enough to put Riley to bed and get to bed myself. My sleeping hours became shorter, since Riley is usually up by 5:30 each morning. (I’ve always said that if sleep were an Olympic event, I could probably place, getting the gold medal!) Lack of sleep has always caused me to cry.
Since I work during the week and so does my boyfriend, who would watch Riley? For those that don’t personally know this story or me, I have to tell you now, that I have the most awesome boyfriend on earth!
From the day Riley came to live with me, he stayed home with her so I could go to work each day. I would get home in the afternoon, and he would go in to work. This was the norm until just recently when I was able to get her into daycare…first part time in a private home and then full time when a spot became available at a daycare center. Yes I cried because I had to put her in daycare (I would have loved to be able to stay home with her like I did my own children when they were infants), but more so from guilt. This was my granddaughter yet he was willing to sacrifice his time to help us. I’m pretty sure that not many guys would have stuck around. (He deserves a medal for just putting up with me!)
But behind the tears, I would never have chosen a different path. Having this baby in my home is simply
amazing. Watching her grow and change from day to day is such a rewarding experience. (Have I mentioned that she’s crawling now?!)
To know that I am, for the time being, responsible for molding Riley into who she is going to grow up to be is such an enormous task. I can only hope the job I am doing so far is my best.
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