It was cold in Ottawa yesterday. The weather channel was warning of a severe snow storm that didn't actually materialize but it was still very windy with a combination of snow and rain for much of the day. Mac and I stayed indoors and had a great day. He got to do many of his favorite things including lying around naked, smiling at the cat, smiling at himself in the mirror, playing with applesauce and bath time.
Each second that passed felt like an eternity. I couldn't tell you if it took 30 seconds or 10 minutes but eventually he cried. HE CRIED! His little lungs worked overtime as he screamed out scared, alone, confused and cold. He cried and cried as the NICU team continued to shuffle around him sucking stuff out of orifices and monitoring stats. He cried for his moms and we cried too - tears of joy because the sound of his cry was the best noise our ears had ever heard. It was music and love and the sound of angels singing.
It wasn't long after that (or maybe it was, time was so hard to understand) before his skin turned pink and he was wrapped up and handed to my wife. Safe in her warm arms the tears stopped. Well his did anyway, I was crying enough for all of us.
In the days and weeks that followed I felt bad for him when he cried. I did my best to soothe him but I secretly enjoyed the sounds as I remembered the deafening silence when the cries weren't coming.
So on days like today when tears and sobs and shrieks are plentiful I hold my child close to comfort him but I revel in his cries - always grateful for the sound.