I thought I was getting used to that heart wrenching question. The one that grabs my heart and squeezes until I feel like I am going to collapse. But I was wrong. That ugly question presented itself to me again today, but in a different form. This time it wasn't "How's the baby?", it was "What did you have?"
One would think that would be an easier question, as the answer is as simple as two words, "a boy". But its not easier. It is harder. I was caught off guard. I hadn't been asked the question in that form yet. And as I was fighting with what to say, how to say it, and my physical demeanor, the vision was clear.
The vision of the first time I looked down to see his little face. His perfect little nose and his puffy little "look like me" cheeks. The first time I saw my son, the baby that I had hoped for since I was a little girl. The baby that was the perfect mix of his daddy and his mommy.
As the vision was quick to come, it was slow to leave. It stayed with me even after I left the corner of the hallway where it all took place. I know I provided the answer of "a boy", but I didn't allow time to talk about him, to tell of his name, or to brag of him as most parents would do. I quickly turned and walked away, not even thanking the individual for asking.
After, I continued to see the vision of the soft, untouched skin, the petite little face, and the baby who was the perfect son. I tried to refocus, but I couldn't. I allowed the vision, the question, to get the best of me. But did it?
It did as I was in tears and sat at my desk praying to God to give him back to me. But maybe the vision and the question allowed for something more. Maybe it made me realize that I can't continue have a shell built around me on the outside to protect the insides. I don't need to rely on a shell to act as my backbone. I am not a turtle.