In the hours and days before the birth of my daughter I envisioned what our first moments together would be like—What I’d think when I first saw her. Would she be like a stranger to me, or would it feel like I had known her my whole life? That moment was finally staring me in the face.
First I heard her cry, a good sign since NICU nurses were on standby in case she didn’t. There was meconium—lots of it—in my amniotic fluid and they wanted to be sure she hadn’t inhaled any of it.
When I saw my baby’s face for the first time, and got to hold her in my arms, all of my stresses, my worries, my anxiety about how she would arrive not only went out the window–They became insignificant.
My daughter was here. She was a healthy 9 pounds 9 ounces, 20-and-a-half inches long. And I was a healthy mom. Everything didn’t go exactly as I imagined, but in many ways it was better than I could have hoped.
Breastfeeder/formula feeder. Cosleeper/ separate sleeper. Natural birth/ epidurals. Vaginal birth/ cesarean sections. None of those terms really matter to anyone other than the mother and her child. I think we sometimes we put too much emphasis on labels and automatically judge a person based on a word as simple as “Cosleeper.”
Really, the most important part of my birth story is described in the first few paragraphs of this post. The other details—Preferences I had and choices I made may matter more or less to others but it’s all a part of my beautiful story of bring my baby into the world.
Photo from Forever Bliss Photography.