Thoughts on Lillian
It’s a quiet Sunday morning. The sun is shining and a gentle breeze is playing with the leaves in the trees. It’s rained steadily for the last two days; the sun is a welcome sight this morning. Trent and my mom went to 9:00 a.m. church this morning and I’m here, healing and watching Lillian who is now 17 days old.
17 days. So much has happened in just 2 1/2 weeks' time. I look at this child sleeping next to me (sometimes peacefully, sometimes spastically…) and feel washed in the waves of love that fall over me, repeatedly, whenever I see her.
I was afraid to have a child, truthfully. It felt so overwhelming that mentally I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. My focus was on getting through the pregnancy and living through delivery. Both proved to be a sufficient enough challenge to preoccupy my mind for 10 months.
While I was pregnant, thoughts of her: how she’d be, what she’d look like, would creep into my mind and heart and I almost had to dismiss them because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. That seems so silly now, but truthfully, I didn’t even dare dream about her. It’s no wonder, then, that when I saw her for the first time she literally took my breath away.
3 events from her delivery stand out in my mind. The first was when I felt them pull her out of me. I took a huge breath for the first time in 10 months and it was like an air of euphoria and relief filled me. I gulped drunkenly on that pure fresh air and cried out, “She’s out…I’m not pregnant anymore!” I guess initially that focus was on me: I was so happy to no longer be pregnant and I could honestly feel the physical difference in a moment’s time.
The second and third event center solely on Lillian. In fact, since her birth, most everything since has centered on Lillian or Trent in some way. It’s a miracle how quickly the self-ish focus ends when a baby comes into your world.
My second memory of her delivery is when I heard her cry. Because it was a cesarean, I couldn’t see anything that was going on. I knew there were concerns about the meconium she had been immersed in in-utero, so they didn’t want her to cry immediately for fear of the meconium going into her lungs. Thus, I wasn’t expecting an immediate cry. The cry did come more quickly than I had anticipated though, and when that precious cry filled the room I broke into sobs. I knew she was all right and instantaneously all my worries and fears for her health and safety were assuaged. She was here, she was alive, her life had begun. My child’s life.
I asked Trent to go be with her, and he did. They were over there for a long time checking her out. I couldn’t see anything. The funny thing is, it didn't bother me. She was alive and that cry told me that she was fine. I was remarkably lucid (if I do say so myself) and chatting with the anesthesiologist and obstetrician.
Finally, after about 45 minutes, Trent brought her over to me. I was stunned by her. In fact, as I gulped down my sobs, I said, “oh! She’s so pretty!” I said that repeatedly; she was just so beautiful. Her face was so clear and her head so perfect and round. She has the cutest little nose and chin with a gorgeous peaches and cream complexion. She was crying when Trent brought her but she calmed when she heard my voice, which was a beautiful part of the whole moment. I just kept stroking her face and telling her how wonderful she was. I had felt her inside of me for so long and I loved her then, but nothing compensates for being able to see her and to touch her soft skin.
Another thing about Lillian’s arrival that was so amazing was how alert she was and how peaceful she seemed. She looks at everyone and everything with wide and thoughtful eyes. Very little seems to upset her, and that’s been consistent since she arrived. She conveys a very calming, peaceful, graceful spirit. She’s patient in waiting to be changed or fed or held and only really cries for pain or huge discomfort.
Although Trent and I have both at times felt overwhelmed by the prospect of parenthood and all that goes along with being parents (self imposed expectations, to be sure) Lillian is calming for us. She makes it easy. She’s so easy to love: so beautiful and peaceful. She casts her spell on all who hold her or come in contact with her. They all say she’s so beautiful, so calm, so gorgeous. Some have said she seems to possess a wise spirit. All these statements are consistent with what I feel about her.
She is ours. And yet, even as I say that, something tells me that she truly belongs to Someone who has given us to her in trust. That the God of the Universe trusts us with someone so special is humbling and awe inspiring.
This what they meant when they say a baby changes everything. She has…and I wouldn’t go back to life without her for all the kings’ ransom .
17 days. So much has happened in just 2 1/2 weeks' time. I look at this child sleeping next to me (sometimes peacefully, sometimes spastically…) and feel washed in the waves of love that fall over me, repeatedly, whenever I see her.
I was afraid to have a child, truthfully. It felt so overwhelming that mentally I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. My focus was on getting through the pregnancy and living through delivery. Both proved to be a sufficient enough challenge to preoccupy my mind for 10 months.
While I was pregnant, thoughts of her: how she’d be, what she’d look like, would creep into my mind and heart and I almost had to dismiss them because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. That seems so silly now, but truthfully, I didn’t even dare dream about her. It’s no wonder, then, that when I saw her for the first time she literally took my breath away.
3 events from her delivery stand out in my mind. The first was when I felt them pull her out of me. I took a huge breath for the first time in 10 months and it was like an air of euphoria and relief filled me. I gulped drunkenly on that pure fresh air and cried out, “She’s out…I’m not pregnant anymore!” I guess initially that focus was on me: I was so happy to no longer be pregnant and I could honestly feel the physical difference in a moment’s time.
The second and third event center solely on Lillian. In fact, since her birth, most everything since has centered on Lillian or Trent in some way. It’s a miracle how quickly the self-ish focus ends when a baby comes into your world.
My second memory of her delivery is when I heard her cry. Because it was a cesarean, I couldn’t see anything that was going on. I knew there were concerns about the meconium she had been immersed in in-utero, so they didn’t want her to cry immediately for fear of the meconium going into her lungs. Thus, I wasn’t expecting an immediate cry. The cry did come more quickly than I had anticipated though, and when that precious cry filled the room I broke into sobs. I knew she was all right and instantaneously all my worries and fears for her health and safety were assuaged. She was here, she was alive, her life had begun. My child’s life.
I asked Trent to go be with her, and he did. They were over there for a long time checking her out. I couldn’t see anything. The funny thing is, it didn't bother me. She was alive and that cry told me that she was fine. I was remarkably lucid (if I do say so myself) and chatting with the anesthesiologist and obstetrician.
Finally, after about 45 minutes, Trent brought her over to me. I was stunned by her. In fact, as I gulped down my sobs, I said, “oh! She’s so pretty!” I said that repeatedly; she was just so beautiful. Her face was so clear and her head so perfect and round. She has the cutest little nose and chin with a gorgeous peaches and cream complexion. She was crying when Trent brought her but she calmed when she heard my voice, which was a beautiful part of the whole moment. I just kept stroking her face and telling her how wonderful she was. I had felt her inside of me for so long and I loved her then, but nothing compensates for being able to see her and to touch her soft skin.
Another thing about Lillian’s arrival that was so amazing was how alert she was and how peaceful she seemed. She looks at everyone and everything with wide and thoughtful eyes. Very little seems to upset her, and that’s been consistent since she arrived. She conveys a very calming, peaceful, graceful spirit. She’s patient in waiting to be changed or fed or held and only really cries for pain or huge discomfort.
Although Trent and I have both at times felt overwhelmed by the prospect of parenthood and all that goes along with being parents (self imposed expectations, to be sure) Lillian is calming for us. She makes it easy. She’s so easy to love: so beautiful and peaceful. She casts her spell on all who hold her or come in contact with her. They all say she’s so beautiful, so calm, so gorgeous. Some have said she seems to possess a wise spirit. All these statements are consistent with what I feel about her.
She is ours. And yet, even as I say that, something tells me that she truly belongs to Someone who has given us to her in trust. That the God of the Universe trusts us with someone so special is humbling and awe inspiring.
This what they meant when they say a baby changes everything. She has…and I wouldn’t go back to life without her for all the kings’ ransom .
Comments
Thanks letting us share in this new experience with you!