My Dearest Belle,
On Wednesday, February 24, 2021, a day before your due date, Papa and I went to bed talking about how much later you may be than your due date. Everyone around us told us that the first child comes later than the due date, and you weren’t showing any signs of popping out any time soon.
The next day, we woke up, Papa started his work day, and I was heating up a croissant in the air fryer when I felt my water break. Actually, I felt something pop, but I wasn’t sure if it was my water breaking or some other part of my body losing its form and function thanks to pregnancy. I was so confused that I had to call the doctor’s office and describe the sensation to make sure. We were told to check in to labor and delivery.
So, on February 25, 2021, Papa and I grabbed our go bag and made our way to the hospital. On the way there, I kept telling Papa that this could all be a false alarm - that we could check-in and have them tell us that you weren’t ready yet. To be honest, I was saying that more for myself than Papa. The thought of going through delivery was so scary and nerve-wracking. I had so many women around me telling me one horror story after another about labor pains (the contractions, the epidural) and delivery (the pushing, the tearing). I just didn’t know what bringing you into this world had in store for me, and while I was anxious to birth you and finally hold you in my arms, I was scared about the whole process.
Papa and I got admitted, and the waiting game began. The contractions started coming faster and more intensely, and I laid there thanking God for whoever it was that invented the epidural. It took about 15 hours of breathing through contractions, including about two hours of pushing, to get you out. And on Friday, February 26, 2021 at 1:54 AM, you took your first breath in the world.
As soon as you were born, the nurses whisked you off to get weighed and measured, then they plopped you on me for skin-to-skin time. You were this long, lanky thing covered in goop, and the nurses kept toweling you off, trying to get you to cry just a little louder. I held you there… squirming and crying… a wave of a million different emotions crashing over me as I realized that you were finally here. Then came the biggest shocker:
“She’s 10 lb. 9 oz., and she’s 23 in. long!”
Granted, I didn’t have a basis for how much taller you were than other average newborns, but just three weeks prior, I was told that you were 6 lb. 11 oz. and well on track to be an average-sized baby at full term. I was expecting a newborn weighing in around 7 lb. and some odd ounces… not a 10.5 pounder.
It took me some time to wrap my brain around what had just happened. Then it all hit me:
All those years of waiting and praying for you… the rounds and rounds of fertility treatments… the tears… the angst… the daily injections… this procedure… that procedure…
Everything culminated into the moment when I realized that you were really and finally here.
And just like that, you turned Papa and me into parents.
And there will NEVER be enough words in all the languages of the world to express to you just how thankful we are that you are here.
Papa and I will make mistakes… we will do the wrong things at the wrong times… we will have moments when we break down and lose our heads… we will question our competence and will in this fight… but just know: everything we ever do will stem from our love for you and our commitment to be good parents to you and good stewards to God who chose us to parent you on this earth.
Love always,
Mama