The hours leading up to when I met my Beautiful Daughter on the morning of February 5, 2011, I thought back to the hours I spent in an indoor swimming pool during my eighth month. I would float on my back, glide through the water and rum my big tummy. There was a comoradory formed long before she came; maybe because we're both girls. I just remember saying so many times: "We're in this together, girl. You do what you need to do when you're ready and I'll take care of the rest."
The laboring was not as difficult as I anticipated, thanks in no small part to my "team." When it finally came time to push, the sun was shining outside my window. Then she emerged and she was perfect. Like her brother, her eyes were wide and her skin so lovely.
When they set her on my belly I was in love and reborn. That's what I never figured about motherhood: Every time they're born, you're born. Life starts over and continues on all at once.
I had no idea what to expect from a daughter. My son was flat-out awesome...how would she compare?
Beautiful Daughter, you made me a believer in little girls, with your hand-holding even as a newborn and your tiny moans that could never be confused for a boy's. I love the way you always want to be touching me somehow (I love it even when I act irritated). And the calm. You and I can still sit together in quiet, just like we floated in that pool, and enjoy the comfort of the present. Your eye contact and on-cue kisses melt my heart. Your rhythm and tenacity astonish and inspire me. I may not always be able to pick you up, but we'll always be able to hold each other. You do what you need to do when you're ready; I'll take care of the rest.
That was a precious account of Ingrid's birth, Joy. I could sense the peace you still feel about it. Thanks for sharing and bringing me some misty eyes- ya know, the good kind.
You do have a way with words, my dear. Thanks for sharing such wonderful moments with us!
Beautifully written, Joyous. "Life stars anew..." in childbirth. I didn't understand that either until my second birth. And now you've found a way to articulate it.
Very touching. A keeper
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