I know. I know that I am (we are) crazy. I'll get back to that tomorrow or Wednesday.
Because today is my daughter's third birthday. I am exhausted from a whirlwind of activity today and the past three days. And I am over-emotional from hormones and everything else.
I never felt a connection to my daughter when she was pregnant. In fact, I hated being pregnant. I was worried about maternal death as the due date approached. Please make sure they save me if anything starts to go wrong, I asked more than once. Choose me if there's a choice to be made. It was my crazy pregnancy worry. There were days I worried that I was a prime candidate for postpartum depression. I had no special feelings for the baby growing inside. It was kind of cool, but I think too abstract. I had been hurt from the previous early miscarriage, but I was confused by that hurt, confused by why I felt it, when logically, and scientifically, I felt nothing in particular. But emotionally, I did.
So, 3 years ago yesterday, my water broke in the middle of the night. I did everything I could to being labor on, including a long walk with my knees together by the end because of the dripping water (ew). Finally went to the hospital 16 hours later and started the pitocin, dilated not even a centimeter. 12 hours later, no further dilation, I caved into the epidural. 8 hours later, dilated a whopping 2 cm. And said yes to the c-section. And a little after 4 pm September 22nd, my daughter was born. And in the millisecond that she was removed from my body, I fell completely and utterly in love.
It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I wasn't prepared for that intensity of feeling. She is, without a doubt, the love of my life. Happy birthday, my little sweetpea.
1 day ago