It was beginning to get to me. For 2 months, all I felt was stress.
I was convinced my son hated me. I couldn’t touch him without it leading to him crying. I felt lost again with our second child, seemingly forgetting everything I knew about how to comfort a baby.
My job added to my responsibilities the week of his birth, so I was spending less time at home, and arriving home with less energy. I was on edge, and my inability to bond with him was pushing me over it.
Maybe Makayla spoiled me. She was so easy to take care of. She slept through the nights after a week or two. I was only working part-time when we were preparing for her to come, and had only been working full-time for the prior 3 months to her arrival. Maybe the ease with which she moved into our lives was keeping me and Aiden from having a fair chance to bond.
I felt a toll. Going to work in the morning was getting more difficult. I was tired from a lack of sleep, and I wasn’t feeling wanted by the newest person in my life. A person I had wanted for so long. A person whose name I had chosen when I was 13.
I watched his body tense up whenever I spoke, and I took it personal. I couldn’t deal with him crying when I held him. I couldn’t be there for him in the way that I had imagined. In the way that seemed to come so easy for Gabby.
I watched as he would melt away in her arms. He felt instant comfort with her. It felt at home, with mom.
Even Makayla began to bond with her brother, requesting to carry him on several occasions. She became protective of him, scolding me when he cried and I wouldn’t stop it.
I felt depressed by it. I didn’t update the site with happy pictures. I gave generic responses when people asked about him. I leaned on Gabby to handle him most.
I stayed away.
In doing so, I was placing blame on him instead of me. I stopped being a proper parent. I wasn’t being fair to him, and giving us a chance to get to know each other. To build our own bonds.
But on a typically hectic day, Gabby needed to rush out and buy some things for the house, I was left alone with our two babies. On that day, something happened. “Billionaire” happened.
Aiden cried endlessly. I had no idea how to calm him. I felt myself beginning to get stressed out, but I told myself that today would be the last time I copped out on him. I stood up with him, put on the video channel, and danced with him, but nothing worked.
Nothing worked, until Billionaire by Travie McCoy came on.
Instantly, he started cooing. He relaxed, and I smiled.
For the first time, my son melted into me. He lay on my chest, comfortably, and I finally felt he was at home with me. We accepted each other. All over an alternative hiphop song.
Flash forward to this past Father’s day. Our families had gathered at St.Michael’s for Aiden’s baptism. He was such a good kid. He didn’t cry throughout the entire event. And I held him, the entire way through. He felt so at ease with me now, falling asleep in my arms.
Towards the end of the ceremony, Aiden began to get uncomfortable in all of the clothing he had on. It was pretty warm out, and it was starting to bother him. Aiden started crying, and Gabby passed him to me. The deacon began to do his blessing to us, and as soon as he was done, Aiden started bawling.
I didn’t panic. I didn’t get nervous. I turned around, and started dancing and sang to him..
I want to be a Billionaire, so fucking bad…
Then I stopped. Realizing I had just cursed in church. But he had stopped crying. He was at home with me again. So I hope God lets that one slide.