On the Night Before you Were Born

Little Man,

On the night before you were born, the last night you lay cradled inside me, I couldn't sleep.

Not just because you have a habit, when you're sleeping, of pressing your head into any resistance you can find which tended to be my pelvis at the time.

Not just because I was nervous about the surgery scheduled at 8:30 am the next morning. The one where they would slice me open and pull your slimy brand new self right out of my womb.

Not just because I was so very excited to meet you, my first son, my last baby, the one I was ready for.

On the night before you were born I couldn't sleep because I was hungry.

I had never, enjoyed a giant hamburger with all the fixings the way I did when you were in me. Oh the dinners I made with you stretching and kicking at my belly. Always with meat, and fats, and dessert. The degrees of starvation I felt throughout the day, I had to snack between snacks!. And still, we were never without hunger.

When they told me I would have to fast before the scheduled c-section I didn't think much of it. The surgery was scheduled in the am, surely it wouldn't be a big deal not to eat while I was sleeping. I had, of course, under-estimated you. You see, it wasn't my hunger that had been rolling in my stomach for nine months, grinding my very bones away, sapping every bit of iron and vitamin stores out of me until I was exhausted, brain dead and anemic. It was yours.

I want you to know that. I want you to know you were born hungry, that when I was in the "recovery room" pushing buttons to raise my bed and slurring out threats to the nurses' health if they didn't bring you to me at once, they had to give you sugar water. I was so angry when they told me! My baby shouldn't be having sugar, he needs breast milk! "BRING ME MY BABY!" I demanded, over and over.  And when they finally determined that I was not going to "lie back and rest" without you, when they brought you to me, and I put you to my breast I knew then that you would always be hungry and that for as long as you needed me to I would help you fill up with all the best life has to offer us.

Tonight, two years later I'm hearing your little voice in my mind, remembering what you say the most: "I hunny, Mama!" and I love you for it. You are hungry. For good food, for good times, for pleasant company, you enjoy life running full force all day and all night long. And when things get real tough, when dinner is still cooking and your cries of "I EAT!" over-whelm me, when your hunger begins to invade my borders and I can still feel the way I felt that night, the night before you were born when your hunger was my own. I sometimes give you some sugar.

Love,

Mom