I woke up at 3AM and realized Louise had picked a birthday. A mere, but intense and painful and hectic, five hours later, she was in my arms.
My prayers have lately revolved around labor and delivery; both that I could handle the pain and that she would be healthy. Momentary discomforts and screamed expletives aside, I can handle a lot for the sake of her. The prayers were that I would remember it.
And now she’s here, and she is perfect. Twenty inches and eight pounds four ounces of her beautiful self. She knew me the moment the nurse put her on my chest and she heard my voice.
The first thing we did together? Rest. For a moment with her heart beating against mine, I whispered that she is my strong, brave, beautiful girl. And that she is perfect.