My Sweet Max

Eleven years ago, my Max was cozily tucked away in my belly without any intention of leaving.  He was two weeks late and although I loved being pregnant - yes I loved every minute of pregnancy, especially the panel pants - I was ready to have my body back.  I weighed 236 pounds which was made up of chocolate chip cookies, french fries, broccoli, salmon, nachos with a side of baby. I had my natural birthing plan laminated and ready to be followed.  I had the baby announcements created, the baby room organized and the hand sanitizer and doctor masks prepared for every visitor wishing to hold my germ-free baby.


Pregnancy is an interesting experience.  For 9-ish months there is talk about the baby but really the talk is all about the idea of the baby experience.  The idea of the baby and labor and nursing and raising the child is very, very different from the reality.  The minute I entered the hospital - after the due date came and went and Mother Nature was perfectly fine with my baby living in my belly forever - I was induced by a very sweet nurse which failed.  I was then given Pitocin by a very mean nurse which failed.  I was poked and prodded and walked and squatted and rubbed and rested until finally the doctor said it was time for a cesarean - which was not in the plan.  But after 18 hours of failed attempts, the laminated birth plan was thrown in the trash and I surrendered to the expertise of western medicine.


At 11:40pm on Monday, May 5, 2003, Owen Maxwell Morgan was born.  All 10 pounds of him. He came out screaming and was sporting a black mohawk.  His skin was peeling because he was 'over cooked' the nurses said as they were cleaning him up.  He was a stranger and familiar all at the same time.  He was fragile and his innocents frightened me.   He was pure love and I was in awe.


The moment I held him - really held him in my arms, skin to skin - I fell into a new kind of love.  A love I didn't know was available to me.  A love that was too big to articulate. This love was more of a quiet knowing.  I knew him and he knew me. He belonged to me and I belonged to him.  Pure.  Simple.  Magnificent.


The true miracle has been the experience of this love growing from that day to this.  Right when I think I can't love Max any bigger - God cracks opens my heart unveiling more.  Motherhood is a privilege that I do not take lightly.  And with Max as my son - wow!  Happy Birthday my sweet boy.