Dear Little Rainbow,
I swear I haven't slept. I haven't missed a moment. The nights have been long. Days have stretched longer and longer over these last few months. Yet, here we are on the eve of your first birthday. Your bath is done. You smell so sweet. As I nurse you to sleep one last time as an 11-month-old I can't help but sit here in absolute disbelief that a time that seemed to string on forever happened so fast. It is the ultimate oxymoron. I remember looking at that positive pregnancy test and being filled with a combination of unparalleled love and fear. Dare I hope? Dare I dream? Am I too presumptuous to celebrate? Would celebrating now, mean that my mourning for you later will be felt even more deeply? I remember emailing doctor's offices and explaining my story and my fears. I remember telling your daddy that you were here and you were growing. I could see the steps he took backwards in the beginning. The physical and emotional withdrawal from me as he too was afraid that our story with you would end like your brothers'. I remember all the doctor's appointments. The twist in my stomach as I pulled into the parking lot. I still can recite the inner dialogue I held with me, myself and I. I remember the intense rush of relief I would feel when I would see your petite features on the ultrasounds and the tiny flickering of your heart. The weeks before you were born I visited Labor and Delivery too many times to count. The anxiety was next level. The intermittent contractions sent my brain into overdrive as I always feared that this was the moment that we would lose you. The morning you were born I had a routine MFM appointment. The only time I've ever been on time is for my doctor's appointments for you and your brothers. That ultrasound is one I would never forget. You were practicing breathing and your heart was thumping so loudly, but you refused to move. No matter what the medical staff or I did...nothing would get you to even move a finger. I remember texting your dad and pouring my fears out to him. I remember sitting for an hour waiting for my MFM to get out of surgery. She came into the room and sat with her right leg tucked under her as she sat on the rolling chair. She was sitting sideways on the chair and propped her arm on the headrest and leaned against it in a very casual but "real talk" way. She told me you weren't moving but that you looked great. But, that she knew all too well that if she sent me home that one moment you could be fine and the next you couldn't. "I think we should just have a baby today, is that ok with you?" I cried. I sobbed. A line of techs and nurses lined the hallways as I left and they cheered and smiled and sent me reassuring nods. It was Baby Day. I went home and grabbed my bag and your dad and I left for the hospital. You were born via cesarean at 2:43pm. "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us" by Starship Troopers was playing in the background... what a wonderful coincidence. Your little cry sent tears streaming down my face. I remember looking over at the warmer and seeing your tiny little body. 19inches long and 5lb10oz. I remember thinking about how incredibly tiny you looked. Those first few days I remember everything. I didn't sleep but for less than an hour that whole 3 days. I was overwhelmed with love for you and grief for your brothers. Coming home with you in my arms rather than a box with handprints was surreal. The sleepless nights were spent nursing you and watching you sleep rather than crying silently into my pillow with my breasts throbbing from fullness. Each milestone you met has brought with it feelings of joy and this desire to freeze time. This past year I have been a mess. My anxiety has ebbed and flowed. Some days (actually a lot of days) I know I haven't done my best. I am guilty of losing my patience and feeling overwhelmed. I have have tried to be the best mom I can be but I know I can do better. I have watched you these last few days I have seen how you have grown. You are moving everywhere. You are sweet and kind and oh so very sassy. You are developing a little temper, which actually is just you letting me know you have very strong opinions which I understand because.... well, I am your mom and you are me. I know this chapter has closed on us and while it makes me sad I am so incredibly grateful to move forward with you and to watch you continue to grow and learn. Selfishly I played with the idea of how I want you to stay small forever, but I already have my forever babies. I will cherish the time we had when you kicked in my belly and fit in my hands and would fall asleep across my chest. But, I am looking forward. I have memories and pictures and a thousands (like millions) of videos to hold close to my heart. But, I am so immensely happy to see you grow up. So, on this last night as a baby I hold you close and stroke your baby hairs because tomorrow you will be older and this time will be gone, but you will be here with me. And in the morning I will hold you and sing to you and carry-on on this wonderful adventure of motherhood with you. I love you Nora, my little rainbow baby. Happy First Birthday, We did it. We made it. |
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