He was born at 3:53am. It had been a long day and night, and we both needed rest. I was exhausted physically and mentally. I craved sleep, but knew it would be impossible to drift off.
Rest would not find me.
I watched this tiny bundle of life wrapped tightly in a hospital blanket cocoon. His little cone head was warmly covered by a beanie cap and his little face barely peeked out from under the opening in his tight swaddle.
I wasn’t a big fan of that plastic bassinet. It looked so institutional, but he seemed snug and happy, so I left him there as I watched and waited…
I had made it through delivery.
Reality washed over me and I was overwhelmed.
I’ll never forget that first night in the hospital.
My night nurse had a terrible understanding of how to treat a new mom and she criticized every move I made. She was terrifying and I was sure she would be watching me in my sleep.
She clearly had her mind made up about me. I had resolved to not care what others thought of me going into this journey, but deep down, I did.
I knew then that she would be the first of many to judge me. I had only been a mother for a few hours, but I was already so much wiser than the girl who walked into Labor and Delivery the day before.
The quiet room filled my thoughts as I lay awake watching this new baby.
As much as I wanted rest and privacy, I didn’t want to be alone.
The reality of our new life became crystal clear when our last visitor said good-bye.
I was young, single, and scared.
Fifteen years ago God began making me the woman I am today.