Birth-Day
Today marks the ninth anniversary of the day I became a mama.
At 6:27 a.m., twenty-five hours after my water broke, I managed (finally!) to push an eight-pound, nine-and-a-half-ounce baby girl from my tired, fatigued self. When I held her in my arms, she opened her dark almond eyes (different from mine!) and looked at me with such intensity it was hard to believe she was brand-new. Chris, who had been at my side throughout the entire thing, said something — I no longer remember what, but I do remember how this baby turned her head in response to the sound of his voice and locked her eyes onto his.
I don’t know how to describe how I felt that day. It was a little like slipping into a incredibly dark cavern — I had no real sense of where I was going, and there was absolutely no way I could stop myself from going there. I will admit: I was terrified. But also: I was transfixed. I could not stop looking at this baby.
Today, nine years later, Lila still has that intense gaze, and I am still transfixed.
