Love is a powerful thing, and when it's powerful enough it has the ability to change a person.
What I'm referring to in this instance is the way that my heart was changed the very first time I became a mother. Shawn and I got married in September of 2007 and it was just over a year later that we welcomed our first daughter into the world, a sweet little girl named Brooklyn.
I knew that my life would be changed but what I wasn't prepared for was the earth-shattering love that would come with it. I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew what it felt like to care about someone other than myself. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
The love I had for my husband is strong, and up until I became a mother, it was the strongest love I had ever experienced. We stood up in front of our family and friends and God and expressed our devotion to one another. Through sickness and health, richer or poorer, you know the rest.
And then baby made three.
And then baby made three.
My pregnancy was a pretty run-of-the-mill boring (in all the best ways) pregnancy. I was so thrilled about the new life that was growing inside of me and with each kick and somersualt I could feel that love get stronger. People would tell me "you just wait, there's nothing like being a mom" and I smiled and nodded at the comments but honestly I thought that I knew what it felt like already. I mean, technically I was already a mom, I just hadn't met my baby yet.
As the end of my pregnancy drew near I had my baby shower, painted the nursery, washed all the baby clothes, set up the bassinet, and packed my bag for the hospital in preparation for our new arrival.
But nothing could prepare me for what came next.
Hours of contractions.
Feeling like my abdomen was being tightened in a vice one minute and then relaxing like nothing had happened the next.
I went as long as I could without pain medication but then finally opted for an epidural (hey, you get the same prize at the end of labor and at that point I wasn't trying to go for extra credit by going drug free).
Then they told me to push. Sure. No problem. I'm a woman, my body is supposed to just know how to do this stuff, right? Well, after 1 hour and 49 minutes I finally got the hang of it...
As soon as Brooklyn was born and the doctor placed her onto my chest the first thing I thought was 'I can finally breathe.' I remember being completely exhausted. Like, imagine the tiredest you've ever been and then multiplying that by 100. That's what it feels like when you've been dealing with back-to-back contractions and trying to push a child from your body.
It's freaking exhausting.
And freaking amazing.
It's freaking exhausting.
And freaking amazing.
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| Brooklyn Mya Gingue born 7:49am, November 29, 2008 |
When I laid eyes on my daughter... that tiny human I had been growing for the last 10 months and everything changed. Was she really here? and really mine? The strong love that I thought I knew paled in comparison to the love that I now felt for my child. It wasn't that I loved my husband any less, but now I knew an entirely different love.
It was like all the pain from labor had turned into love.
Sounds weird, right?
It didn't feel real. It felt like I was in a dream, or having an out-of-body experience. Or both, it's really hard to tell.
My heart had simultaneously been ripped open and made bigger and put back together packed full of love for someone. A love that was completely new. My heart didn't double in size, or even triple, the amount of love that my heart could hold for this new child was infinite.
It starts out as a shocking love and then, once you realize that this love is here to stay, you see that it will grow and get bigger just like your child.
It's an I would give my life for you in an instant without a second thought love.
It's a fierce desire to protect you with all I have.
It's an intense longing to always make the right choices for you.
It's being scared to death you're going to get it all wrong but you give it your best.
It's hoping that I can be everything she needs me to be.
It's earth-shattering.
It's frightening.
It's beautiful.
It's unlike anything I've ever experienced.
In the weeks and months that follow (or, in our case 3 years) Brooklyn got all of our undivided attention. Every single first is not only a first for her, but a first for me.
Her first smile : your heart grows a little more.
That first belly laugh : your heart grows a little more.
Sits unassisted : your heart grows a little more.
Crawls : your heart grows a little more.
First word : your heart grows a little more.
Stands : your heart grows a little more.
Walks : your heart grows a little more.
I'm sure you can see the picture I'm painting by now. Brooklyn had gone from a dream to a reality and there's just no way to properly put it into words, but I hope I've given you a little insight to what it felt like for me to become a mother for the very first time.
This love is a special one, because it's a love that I'll only experience once, it is the love of becoming a mother for the very first time.
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| Brooklyn & I, spring 2009 |
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