"Hi Honey. It's Momma. I've been in touch with the guys. I heard you've made it through with flying colors and have a beautiful son. I am so proud of you. I am just so happy and relieved that you had such and easy and great time. I know it hurt like hell but that is the name of the game. You are probably sleeping, or all of you are sleeping, as you should. I am on break from class but wanted you to know how much I love you and how proud of you I am. I can't wait to see pictures and get down to you. Waiting till Friday will be hard. Know that I love you very much sweetheart. Congrats! You're a Mom!"
That was the voicemail message from my Mother, and now named "Gaga" that is still saved on my cell phone. That is the message that I listen to when my precious Monster retreats from the world in fear of whatever noise, color, object, or emotion that sends him spinning out of control. I listen to that message and remember all the hopes and dreams and, insane plans I had about being a Mom. Those dreams didn't involve sobbing in the Walmart check-out line because your child is freaking out, it didn't involve neurologists, or endlessly talking about three blue cars but those dreams did and still do include big silly smiles, late night couch cuddles, and the occasional "mommy I lub you".