13 Oct 3 years
When Bronwynn was born—7:50pm on October 13, 2007, ten days past her due date—she didn’t cry. The doctor immediately laid her on my chest–her warm, pink, slippery skin against mine. The nurses reassured me her color was beautiful, she was breathing well, and not to worry. I was shivering uncontrollably—the fatigue of a long labor, the blood loss, and sheer excitement over this child. Kris tucked a warm blanket around both of us.
In those first moments, Bronwynn’s eyes quickly found mine and we stared at one another intently. Here was someone I had known intimately for months, a part of me now on the outside, and I was in awe.
She is really mine.
I am really a mother.
This little person needs me and loves me, and I don’t even know her yet. I offered her my breast and she nursed voraciously. It was over an hour before one of the nurses interrupted us and suggested we weigh her. 7lbs 11oz
Those first 24 hours, I was afraid to take my eyes off of Bronwynn. She was so quiet. Swaddled. Content. I leaned in as close as I could to hear if she was breathing. I could smell her breath, like honey, so sweet and pure, a smell I quickly became addicted to…For months afterward I would kiss her plump rosy cheeks and steal a whiff. After several hours that first night, the exhaustion caught up with me, and I dozed off with my hand next to her, my fingers resting on her tiny little belly, rising and falling with every sweet breath.