She's a Redhead!

On March 29th, 2012 I learned how hard parenting could be, and I still had no idea.

That was the day you were born. Perfect and pink with a great set of lungs. It didn't happen the way your father and I had envisionedu. As you probably know by now I like to have the illusion of control and that day I had none. Your nursery was decorated and perfect, clothes cleaned and going home outfit chosen. We were ready, or so we thought.

We decided to speed your entry into the world a little after an ultrasound estimated you at 8 1/2 pounds and we still had a few weeks to go. That coupled with the fact that you had been trying to get out since week 34 and we tried to keep you in, only to realize you decided you were going to wait it out then. (I even tried mowing the lawn, something your father was very happy about, with no results. I'll let you find that picture one day.)

So March 28th your father treated me to an amazing meal and we headed to the hospital. Anxious and excited, scared, having no idea what was about to happen. They started things going around 5am the next morning and at first all was great, progressed lovely, pain wasn't too bad. Fast forward 10 hours ... No progress. Ten hours of unmedicated labor with no progress. Turns out your head just wasn't going to fit through my pelvis. So surgery it was.

"She's a redhead" 6:52pm ... your first cry. Daddy followed you to the bassinet for them to clean you up and check you out and you immediately grabbed his finger and wouldn't let go. He talked about that moment for days, weeks. He fell in love instantly. Then they laid you on my chest and I knew there was never going to be another moment that I didn't want to be holding you. You were perfect. Pink. Beautiful blue eyes. Hints of red hair. "She's a red head" was yelled before they even confirmed you were a she. Nine pounds, 13 ounces. 21 inches long.

The next few hours, days, weeks kind of became a blur. In the hospital it was chaos. Visitors, doctors, nurses. They heard a murmur in your heart so tests were ordered to confirm it was a normal thing that would go away. All I wanted to do was hold you, kiss you, and sleep.

But I had to share you with your daddy. Only fair since I had you all to myself for 39 weeks.

So it's been 10 weeks since that day. Your still our perfect little angle. We couldn't ask for more. It hasn't always been easy, but it has been fun and exciting and nerve raking. Everyday you learn something new and amaze us.