The Between Years

hadn't yet stocked up on formula and diapers. But I would never look at it as a negative thing. What mattered to us was that Kenny was in our family, and that he was healthy.

    Cards and flowers poured in that week. We received visits from people we hadn't seen in years, including the priest who married us, and I must admit I loved the attention. And let me tell you, everything I was given at the shower came in very handy.

    In the following weeks, Randy and I adjusted to our lives as new parents, and it sure seemed like Randy's adjustment was swifter than mine was. He was a natural at everything from diapers to burping, feeding and bath time. Sometimes Randy would stretch his arm out and lay Kenny on the inside of his forearm while he tickled his chin. Sure, it was cute and all, but the way he held our baby made me nervous. Nevertheless, Kenny's balance on Randy's arm never wavered.

    Naptime seemed like Randy's only chance to slow down and, fortunately, it meant he would take a nap himself. I admired his enthusiasm, given how much the doctor's appointments, visiting and having baby photos taken ran us off our feet. But I still couldn't get over the night and day change in how Randy responded to him. Sometimes he would bounce Kenny on his lap, drawing his arms up and down like a ventriloquist's dummy. Other times, he would stretch out before the television with him to watch Dora the Explorer.

    One night, I caught Randy in the rocking chair, Kenny cradled in his arms, reading Love You Forever by Robert Munsch to him. We knew Kenny was a long way from being able to understand anything we read to him, but reading to him at an early age meant the world to both of us. Randy said it would nurture his motor skills, but that was a likely story. I knew it was part of their special bond.

    Randy's feet stopped flexing; the chair stopped rocking, and I saw that Randy's eyes had closed. The book flap hung from his hand. I snuck over, slid the book out of his hand, scooped Kenny out of Randy's arms, and laid him in the bassinette. Then I returned to Randy and kissed the corner of his mouth. He snorted and his eyes popped open.

    “ You fell asleep,” I told him.

    “ Forgot where I was for a second.”

    “ Come to bed, baby.” I led him by the hand to our bedroom.

    And I believe he really had lost himself in a special place exclusive to him and Kenny. In fact, I was jealous that I didn't have the same special bond with Kenny.

    After I laid Kenny in his crib, I crawled into bed and Randy scooted up behind me. His hand covered mine and we stared up at the ceiling, silent. We didn't make love that night, thanks in part to our exhaustion, but because we seemed to have found a peaceful place, a special bond that drew us closer together. We were the parents of a marvelous little boy and no one could take that away from us.

    Kenny didn't cry. Randy and I were trained in the routine of abandoning our sleep around 2:00 am each night for a feeding and diaper change. Normally, Randy was eager to hop out of bed and tend to his son, but I wouldn't let him do it for almost a week after I caught them asleep in the rocking chair. On one hand, I wanted Randy to get some rest, but deep down, I wanted my chance to bond with my son.

    What mattered most to me was Randy's changed attitude towards Kenny. While he never seemed bitter before, resentful wasn't a big stretch, and the complete U-turn he took astonished me. I still crack it up to that moment in the hospital when Randy held Kenny for the first time. The bond started there and they were inseparable ever since. I used to kid with Randy that on Kenny's first day of Montessori school, I wasn't sure who would cry harder when Randy left for work.

    For the first few months, everything was perfect for our little family. I thought of asking Randy if we could try and make our little Martha in the very near future, but I wouldn't press my luck. I wanted to make sure we could handle being the parents of one child first, but I realized more and more that we were making out just fine. We never argued over how an issue should be handled and everything felt natural. I went back to work within a month, and I hadn't realized how much I'd missed teaching.

    But I learned the hard way that not all wonderful things are destined to stay that way. Though I sometimes wonder how our lives would have been different had Kenny never been born, I also wonder how they would have been different if not for a