Dear Daughters,
One month ago at my 34 week appointment we scheduled your cesarean delivery for today, Saturday April 13th.
I was excited to have a date on the calendar. Along with that excitement came anxiety. The finality of it all was hitting me. Soon you would not be snuggled safely in the womb. You would be on the outside, observing the world with fresh, innocent eyes. I was comfortable with you on the inside, despite your jabs and kicks that kept me up at night and the discomfort of all the swelling, numbness and pelvic pressure I was feeling on a daily basis. I knew how to cope with those things. I wasn't sure I would know what to do when you were here. Would I know how to hold you? Feed you? Love you?
I don't consider myself to be a highly superstitious person, but I have this thing with odd numbers - I don't like them. And 13 is the worst of all odd numbers. I dislike this number so much that I wouldn't marry your father in 2013. I insisted on a December wedding in 2012 to avoid the number entirely. It dawned on me that your cesarean was scheduled for the 13th, and therefore you would have many birthdays, in your hopefully very long life time, that fall on Friday the 13th. To me this was a terrible fate, so much so that I almost called the Doctor and asked to change the date. After mulling it over for several days I convinced myself that I was being absolutely ludicrous and disliking a number was not a good enough reason to request such a change.
I announced our plans to all who came near - "We have a scheduled c-section on April 13th!" I said proudly to anyone who asked when I was due. (It's weird, strangers asked all the time when I was due. Perhaps they were worried I was going to go into labor right in front of them and wanted to make sure my due date was several weeks out.) I told all my co-workers, our friends, and our family the scheduled date and time. We were scheduled for 8 am, to be at the hospital by 6 am for check-in. When I told my sister in law, Karyn, about our plans she responded with, "You'll have babies by breakfast!"
Indeed. We did have babies by breakfast. But not on April 13th. On March 31st you entered this world. It was not scheduled. I was not prepared. But it didn't matter. You were born at 36 weeks perfectly healthy and immediately hungry and as the nurses helped me breastfeed you both for the first time I looked at you and realized I already knew how to hold you and feed you and love you.
Mother's intuition is real. I don't have any experience with babies, but I have you and we'll figure life out together. There are no words to adequately describe all the complex emotions and thoughts that have run through my head and heart in the last two weeks. How lucky am I that God chose me to be your mom?
It's been two weeks. It feels like an eternity and an instant. Not everything has gone to plan. We're figuring out feeding and sleep schedules and working with a mix of breast feeding and formula and some moments I feel like I'm just trying to survive. But then I look at your sweet faces and I am so happy I could cry. You are perfect, both of you, and you are mine.
I'll love you forever, Violet and Zara.
Love,
Mom
One month ago at my 34 week appointment we scheduled your cesarean delivery for today, Saturday April 13th.
I was excited to have a date on the calendar. Along with that excitement came anxiety. The finality of it all was hitting me. Soon you would not be snuggled safely in the womb. You would be on the outside, observing the world with fresh, innocent eyes. I was comfortable with you on the inside, despite your jabs and kicks that kept me up at night and the discomfort of all the swelling, numbness and pelvic pressure I was feeling on a daily basis. I knew how to cope with those things. I wasn't sure I would know what to do when you were here. Would I know how to hold you? Feed you? Love you?
I don't consider myself to be a highly superstitious person, but I have this thing with odd numbers - I don't like them. And 13 is the worst of all odd numbers. I dislike this number so much that I wouldn't marry your father in 2013. I insisted on a December wedding in 2012 to avoid the number entirely. It dawned on me that your cesarean was scheduled for the 13th, and therefore you would have many birthdays, in your hopefully very long life time, that fall on Friday the 13th. To me this was a terrible fate, so much so that I almost called the Doctor and asked to change the date. After mulling it over for several days I convinced myself that I was being absolutely ludicrous and disliking a number was not a good enough reason to request such a change.
I announced our plans to all who came near - "We have a scheduled c-section on April 13th!" I said proudly to anyone who asked when I was due. (It's weird, strangers asked all the time when I was due. Perhaps they were worried I was going to go into labor right in front of them and wanted to make sure my due date was several weeks out.) I told all my co-workers, our friends, and our family the scheduled date and time. We were scheduled for 8 am, to be at the hospital by 6 am for check-in. When I told my sister in law, Karyn, about our plans she responded with, "You'll have babies by breakfast!"
Indeed. We did have babies by breakfast. But not on April 13th. On March 31st you entered this world. It was not scheduled. I was not prepared. But it didn't matter. You were born at 36 weeks perfectly healthy and immediately hungry and as the nurses helped me breastfeed you both for the first time I looked at you and realized I already knew how to hold you and feed you and love you.
Mother's intuition is real. I don't have any experience with babies, but I have you and we'll figure life out together. There are no words to adequately describe all the complex emotions and thoughts that have run through my head and heart in the last two weeks. How lucky am I that God chose me to be your mom?
It's been two weeks. It feels like an eternity and an instant. Not everything has gone to plan. We're figuring out feeding and sleep schedules and working with a mix of breast feeding and formula and some moments I feel like I'm just trying to survive. But then I look at your sweet faces and I am so happy I could cry. You are perfect, both of you, and you are mine.
I'll love you forever, Violet and Zara.
Love,
Mom
Comments
Post a Comment