| Friday, September 09, 2005 |
| to Lauren, on her first birthday |
Dearest Lauren,
Before you were born, before you were a clump of cells, I longed for you. I prayed for you. I browsed the baby aisles in Wal-Mart during my grocery shopping trips, and sighed. I was jealous of all the droopy-eyed mothers carting their babies around shopping for diapers, jars of baby food, and toys.
One day, a small toy lamb caught my eye. I held it in my hands and shook it, eliciting a quiet rattle. The lamb went home with me. That evening, I laid down on my guest bed, and stared at the lamb, hoping that soon I would have somebody in our home that would love to play with the toy. I cried. I had friends that have been trying for years to have a baby, and I worried that maybe I was destined for the same.
We were blessed. It took only a couple of months to conceive you. I remember feeling nauseous at work the day I found out, and talking to my co-workers about my sudden illness. The first question one of them asked was "Are you pregnant?" I looked at him and it finally kicked in that I could be a mommy at that very moment. In fact, I knew I was a mommy at that moment.
My pregnancy took so long, yet I only remember it as a flash compared to the past year. I slept a lot and cried more and more during Oprah, the evening news, and even watching Fear Factor. *Sniff* Those poor defenseless bugs! And bull testicles! Life is so unfair. Like the time daddy's job shipped him off to Amarillo for a few months. I was pretty far along by then, and I missed him sleeping next to me, unable to share the feel of your kicks and thumps, and hear the thud of my feet on the ground every hour when I had to go pee. You made me pee a lot.
But we made it, swollen elephant feet and all.
What do you mean I won't be your #1 girl anymore?
I thought you made this new pillow especially for me?!
My labor lasted all day, but was relatively pain free. I was tired from just sitting in bed, but my family kept my spirits up and kept me laughing. I remember that my doctor came in after several hours and said, "Well, you're not progressing, so I think we'll send you home." I said, "Um, they just broke my water about 10 minutes ago." Crazy doc: "Oh, well, I guess you're here for good then."
Fourteen hours after I entered the hospital, the doctor said it was time for a C-section. Daddy donned his blue Papa smurf suit and we headed down to the OR. I remember everyone in the operating room being so nice and talking to me and your daddy. It was a very odd feeling having them get you out, but all I was concentrating on was hearing you cry. They immediately took you over to a table, but I still don't think I heard you cry. All I remember after that was another doctor walking over and asking if we'd like to see our new daughter. They brought you up to me, and the first thing I saw were those beautiful, plump red lips. I started to question that maybe Steven Tyler or maybe Angelina Jolie was your real father. Where did those ginormous lips come from???
Lauren, in her photographic debut - just minutes old.
I spent five days in the hospital because the doctor said that the insurance would pay for it. I thought it would be smart to take full advantage of the nursery, meds, and nurses while I could. I'll never do that again, even if your sweet daddy brought me Olive Garden and cheesecake every day.
I believe it was the third day that I was told I could take a shower. It was so difficult, but daddy was right there. He held me and bathed me in the shower, with a smile on his face no less. When we were done, I felt so refreshed, but daddy looked like a drowned rat. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to help me while fully clothed.
I was so swollen that it hurt to smile, but doggone it, I was finally clean!
Lauren, your father is a very special man. He is all that I had hoped he would be, and more. If it were up to him, he probably would have kept you in our hospital room day and night. He held you, studied your features, and smiled a lot. "She so beautiful. I mean it, really beautiful." He was so gentle and timid with you, as though you were made of fine China. It was a miraculous thing to observe.
Your father and I don't know a whole lot about being parents. We were the youngest children in our families, and really haven't had much opportunity to be around small ones. We don't read parenting books because we already have an idea of how we would like to raise our children. That doesn't mean we don't change our minds, but it keeps our eyes and our hearts open.
Watching you become the young girl you are today has been a completely amazing thing to be a part of. Everything was a first, from raising your head, smiling, crawling, eating solid food, butt ruffles, pigtails, standing, and Lord help me, walking. I'm so glad that I created this blog. Not only has it connected me with some extremely kind and supportive people, but it allows me to look back on how far you've REALLY come.
You still hate vacuums with a passion, but you still love tags, bubbles, and velcro. You enjoy standing on our bed and pounding out a beat on our headboard. And you still want to be held...all the time. That is, until you do your horsey gallop on my hip, signalling that you've spied your next target for annihilation, and it's time to get down.
I'm cute, but when you're not looking, I will ingest the contents of your purse.
You are so tiny and fragile right now. As a mother, it's my job to protect you. You don't know what the images on TV mean as you flit from one toy to the next. Hurricane Katrina has destroyed so many lives, and I'm thankful that you are not old enough to understand how devastating things really are. I read about the small child that led his family and friends out of the depths of hell, and I wept. I weep for the families that have lost children, and for the children that have lost the only home they have ever known.
We are so blessed. You are happy, healthy, and home. I am so thankful for that. This is truly a reason for celebration.
My goodness, girl. I can't believe that this year sped by so quickly. I've dreaded this day. To me it signifies that you are no longer a baby, but a spry, young toddler. But I know you'll always be my baby, whether you're two, twenty, or 200.
Happy Birthday, sweet baby Lauren.
I love you and always will.
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| posted by ieatcrayonz @ 9/09/2005 |
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