The very first time I saw Rocco he was four cells old. Up on a monitor in an IVF clinic and BLIP he was shot into me like a cannon. I walked lightly out of the room, thinking, I could *totally* be pregnant right now.
I was, in the next few weeks I could feel strange tugging like a spider weaving its web up and down. It was Rocco, he took hold like a champ and did not let go. I had all my IVF posse bloggers back then, my Pam and Palemother and Tobacco and Lori and Mel and Louise and Nancy. And Vee. I miss those innocent days.
Rocco grew and grew.
He was born. He cried for about a year, and woke every few hours.
I only had eyes for Dave, who was really sick at the time.
"Mum, Crash Bandicoot is our brother too."
Everything I wanted, yet the universe plays tricks. I was strong for my boys because there was no choice.
Rocco and I went straight from maternity at Katoomba to oncology at Nepean. To visit dad. Not knowing what's going to happen to somebody you love is one of the hardest things to accept.
Dave came home a few weeks later and was on chemo for a long time.
We used to walk around the lake, a lot. And avoid people.
We didn't know back then that fights like this would happen in the future - that Rocco would beat up his dad while wearing a PULLUP. (Hon - looks like that lion is ripping out of your SKIN.)
Spring came, Dave got the all-clear, and five years later we all woke up and got to watch this guy open his presents with utter delight.
NEVER have I seen a person so excited about their birthday. He's been counting down for so long, and he's never really had a party so we went all out. Five just seems to be such a milestone. New bike, 20 kids, a jumping castle ... the works.
My beautiful friend Naomi has a cake-making business called Dough Re Mi. Rocco asked for "Rockman", who technically is called The Thing. The best chocolate cake I've ever tasted in my life - and I've tasted a few.
And the best party he's EVER had in his.
When everybody whacked the piñata they screamed like Beliebers. I was like an airline hostess for two hours, monitoring fights and toilet trips and games and general party mayhem.
"Excuse me .... you spelt my name wrong on my cup."
Rocco's older brother Tim was there, and Phoebe, and Max. When everybody sang happy birthday, he stuck one of his fingers under my hand for security, uncharacteristically shy.
Later I cuddled him so tightly before bed. I felt his heart beating, and marvelled at those four cells.
I love him. I love him.
I was, in the next few weeks I could feel strange tugging like a spider weaving its web up and down. It was Rocco, he took hold like a champ and did not let go. I had all my IVF posse bloggers back then, my Pam and Palemother and Tobacco and Lori and Mel and Louise and Nancy. And Vee. I miss those innocent days.
Rocco grew and grew.
Everything I wanted, yet the universe plays tricks. I was strong for my boys because there was no choice.
Rocco and I went straight from maternity at Katoomba to oncology at Nepean. To visit dad. Not knowing what's going to happen to somebody you love is one of the hardest things to accept.
Dave came home a few weeks later and was on chemo for a long time.
We used to walk around the lake, a lot. And avoid people.
We didn't know back then that fights like this would happen in the future - that Rocco would beat up his dad while wearing a PULLUP. (Hon - looks like that lion is ripping out of your SKIN.)
Spring came, Dave got the all-clear, and five years later we all woke up and got to watch this guy open his presents with utter delight.
NEVER have I seen a person so excited about their birthday. He's been counting down for so long, and he's never really had a party so we went all out. Five just seems to be such a milestone. New bike, 20 kids, a jumping castle ... the works.
My beautiful friend Naomi has a cake-making business called Dough Re Mi. Rocco asked for "Rockman", who technically is called The Thing. The best chocolate cake I've ever tasted in my life - and I've tasted a few.
And the best party he's EVER had in his.
When everybody whacked the piñata they screamed like Beliebers. I was like an airline hostess for two hours, monitoring fights and toilet trips and games and general party mayhem.
"Excuse me .... you spelt my name wrong on my cup."
Rocco's older brother Tim was there, and Phoebe, and Max. When everybody sang happy birthday, he stuck one of his fingers under my hand for security, uncharacteristically shy.
Later I cuddled him so tightly before bed. I felt his heart beating, and marvelled at those four cells.
I love him. I love him.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell