Violet was born almost a week and two
days ago. Thirty hours of intense contractions...an epidural for
about half that time. I endured hours and hours of pain I never knew
before, only to result in a cesarean leaving me with lingering pain
from that as well. For my first several hours of recovery, I couldn't
even hold my baby girl but I was able to have her rested beside me.
As I first came to after the operation, I heard a baby crying, I
heard word of a little girl (we had kept her sex a surprise) and I
heard my husband's voice as he cooed over our inconsolable little
one. I heard that I had a daughter and I immediately began to cry.
The love I carried inside for thirty-nine and a half weeks was now on
the outside, screaming to the world that she was here and I was in
tears from the pain and the confusion but mostly, my sobs were
brought by joy mixed with disbelief. My baby was here. Violet Phoenix
was here.
She came home with us on October 31st,
our six-year anniversary. This past week has been physically and
emotionally taxing. Even with my wonderful husband helping me around
the clock, recovering from a major abdominal surgery while caring for
a newborn is no simple task. However, I am in constant awe at the
amount of love I feel for this tiny person and I often fear that this
is all a dream. If it is, I hope to never wake from it. She is
everything to me. I look at her beautiful little face, I run my hand
gently across her silken hair and I often weep as this incredible
love bursts from the fragile shell of my being.
Knowing that she almost never was,
mystifies and frightens me. We weren't going to have a child. We
didn't think we should. We're broke and struggling. We have health
issues. We had a million excuses as to why we shouldn't, even though
being a mother was what I wanted more than anything in the world.
There were countless times when I would find myself sneaking out to
the kitchen in the middle of the night to secretly cry tears of
longing and regret, thinking the greatest gift in all the universe
would never be mine.
Last night, as she slept, I gently
caressed my beautiful baby's face, listening to one of the CDs I made
for our stay in the hospital and one of the song's from George's iPod
came on. I looked down at my lovely daughter and was filled with a
combination of heart-wrenching loss and soul-igniting gain all in the
same inward breath. The cycle of life, love, pain and death all moved
with a bitter-sweet grace all about me and I sat at the center of its
light. It was George's death that made us realize the frailty of it
all and how nothing is guaranteed. It was George's death that gave us
the courage to take hold of what we want. Fear should never keep us
from life's gifts and losing my baby brother made it so crisp and so
clear. Were it not for my greatest loss, I would not be experiencing
my greatest joy. Humbled, dizzied and weak, I marvel through my tears
at this incredible cycle of events and I hope that from wherever he
is, George can look down at his tiny niece and be proud knowing that
he helped bring her to us. Violet will surely grow up with stories
about Uncle George and how large and full of love he was.
Thank you, baby brother. Thank you for
this gift. I miss you more than I could ever fully express but I am
eternally grateful for what you have given me. I will cherish this
always, I promise.
