Today my daughter is one year old. I can't believe it was just a year ago that I was laying alone in a hospital bed, too tired to live and in too much pain to function, but still determined to continually take that loooong (or so it seemed) journey down the hallway, down the elevator to the NICU to visit the helpless little pile of sticks they kept calling my daughter.
My labor had lasted for 22 hours. By the time I got any sleep after giving birth I had been awake for well over 24 hours. And when I did sleep, it was short and disturbed. It was such a terrifying time. I didn't know how I was supposed to live one second to the next in so much pain. This was during AND after my labor! I was so alone and too tired to care. I was overwhelmed and lost. Suddenly I was plunged into this new world and I had no time to adjust before it was time to go home.
Most women get to spend their hospital stay WITH their new baby. They get to change the baby's diaper and cuddle the warm little body in the middle of the night. They get to feed the baby whenever they want to. They get to make all the calls. And they rarely are alone. But my experience was different. My baby needed to be on oxygen for the first day and was hooked up to IVs and antibiotics for the rest of our stay due to the possibility of an infection in her lungs, which luckily turned out to be negative. On top of this, I had broken my tail bone during labor. And to add insult to injury, they had no rooms available so I was assigned to the overflow on a completely different floor of the hospital. Plus, I was a single mom and no one was able/willing to stay with me throughout my entire stay. I had family and close friends visit, of course, and my sister and my mom were good at being there as much as they could, but, much of the time, I was alone. Even from my baby. Out of the three days I was in the hospital I spent only a few hours holding my child. I never changed her and I had the hardest time in the world nursing her (a challenge that would take several months for me to overcome). When I carried her car seat into the house after discharge she was still a stranger. I loved her dearly. She was so small and so beautiful. I was filled with pride every time I looked at her. But still, I hadn't really had the chance to get to know her at all. When my mom went back to work after that first week I really thought my life was over. I was terrified. I was overwhelmed. I was sooooo tired. But no matter how impossible it seemed, I had no choice but to keep going. And now, it has been 366 days and I can't even recognize the zombie sitting on the couch staring blankly at the new baby sleeping in her bassinet.
It's so amazing to see how my little girl has grown from that tiny, helpless little creature who had no ability to do anything and no knowledge of the world into this big, independent, smart little person I see walking on two feet and pretending to talk on my phone. But what's even more amazing, although far less obvious to see, is the transformation I've gone through. My entire life revolves around this two-foot person and I absolutely love it. All the things I thought I wanted in my previous life are they desires of another person. I would be perfectly content to never again do anything besides watch her play and cuddle her. I enjoy teaching her and helping her to develop. I'm miserable when we're away from each other. I miss her terribly when she's in the next room sleeping. My life is now tied to her. Every breath I take, every beat of my heart is for her benefit and hers alone. In one year I have become a true mother and in one year she has become an individual.
So, today, on her first birthday, she ends her life as a baby, but begins her life as a toddler. Happy birthday, my Love. And may this next year be even greater than the first.
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