There are very few pictures of me holding my youngest, maybe a handful. I adore this picture because I was just in the moment. Taking in the miraculous moment of her birth. This was the first time I held her. I had gestational diabetes while pregnant with her, so there were a bunch of tests they had to do as soon as she was born. It feels like forever when you're sitting there waiting for all of the poking and prodding to be over with. Of course I sent her dad to watch out for her, which left me alone in the hospital room. What, once just moments before was a hustling and bustling room full of Dr.s nurses and neonatal specialists, all seemed to disappear with my baby. I'm not sure exactly what they expect one to do in this situation. It seemed as though, a millisecond before the anxiety got the best of me and I was just about to hop out of bed onto still half numb legs to franticly and spastically search for my baby myself, in rolls this perfectly clean, dressed, bundled up, peanut sized baby followed by a nurse and dad. Big sigh of relief as the nurse hands over my little miracle. She was intently sucking on her binky, clearly a lot of work had been put into cleaning her up, getting her dressed and diapered and swaddling her tightly just so. I could have cared less, I had to get my eyes on every part of her. I gently unwrapped her. It wasn't enough that no less than 3 nurses, a doctor and specialist had all checked her over. I needed to see her fingers, toes, chicken legs, tummy, and kissable rosy cheeks, pouty lips and button nose, all for myself. So I did. Then I scooped her up held her close and realized, in that moment, I was not the only one who had been confused and lonely by the sterile storm of hospital protocol. So together, at last, finally some peace and the single connection we had both been looking for. That, is this picture.
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