Motherhood
I loved being pregnant. Aches, vomits, no sleep, constant pee breaks, and all. I loved seeing my belly get bigger and knowing that she was getting bigger, healthier, and was mine. And the kicks! My favorite. Kylan wasn't much of a mover but when she did, it would be a "pow, kick, bam" moving my entire belly. Ken would tell me in the morning how surprised he was that I could sleep through her spasm sessions. I loved that he felt my belly in the middle of the night.
When I hit 38 weeks I started getting impatient. As much as I wanted her to stay in me up until 40 weeks for her development and so that I didn't lose out on my well earned vacation, I was becoming more at peace with her coming early. I even texted my sister and mother-in-law that I was getting induced on 11/21 because I liked the date and I would be 41 weeks then. I wasn't uncomfortable though, and I probably could have made it until 44 weeks before demanding they take her out. Luckily, that didn't need to happen.
From the moment I got to the hospital on 11/12 and heard that heartbeat (skip and all) until the second her slimy little body was placed on my chest, I was overwhelmed by the fact that "this is really happening." Becoming a mother is not something I can describe but I can tell you that Kylan has shown me a love that is like no other.
She has been a good baby from the start, coming right on her due date, at 6:02AM -- the date of birth of Ken and his father being 6/2. That made daddy very happy. She didn't cry during her shots and stayed wide awake for an hour or so while her nurses did measurements and footprints and the visitors and parents kissed and took pictures of her. Her big pink lips were more than adorable as she sucked on her bottom lip like it was her job; the nurse called it "peanut butter lip." I couldn't believe she was ours.
Being wheeled to the maternity section with my swaddled daughter in my arms was the first moment I got to really take it all in. I'm a mom. This is my child. She is beautiful. And when they had Ken press the button to play the lullabye that let everyone know on the floor that a newborn was here, I cried. My heart could burst with all the emotions I felt that day and in the coming days.
We had so many visitors in the first few days following Kylan's birth. I loved seeing how loved she was. The common consensus being that she was "perfect." And she really was. Now, 12 days later the visitors have died down but the love remains and grows.
My breasts get tingly hearing her cry and it makes me feel connected to her like when she was in my belly. Maternal instincts are really no joke. I almost always know what my baby needs whether it's to swaddle her because her flaling arms are causing her distress or she needs to be moving because motion-- with a pacifier being a close second-- is calming to her.
Daddy and I are big fans of the many faces of Kylan. Including the "pouty face," the "stink face," or the "serious face" used exclusively when she is concentrating on the breast.
When I hit 38 weeks I started getting impatient. As much as I wanted her to stay in me up until 40 weeks for her development and so that I didn't lose out on my well earned vacation, I was becoming more at peace with her coming early. I even texted my sister and mother-in-law that I was getting induced on 11/21 because I liked the date and I would be 41 weeks then. I wasn't uncomfortable though, and I probably could have made it until 44 weeks before demanding they take her out. Luckily, that didn't need to happen.
From the moment I got to the hospital on 11/12 and heard that heartbeat (skip and all) until the second her slimy little body was placed on my chest, I was overwhelmed by the fact that "this is really happening." Becoming a mother is not something I can describe but I can tell you that Kylan has shown me a love that is like no other.
She has been a good baby from the start, coming right on her due date, at 6:02AM -- the date of birth of Ken and his father being 6/2. That made daddy very happy. She didn't cry during her shots and stayed wide awake for an hour or so while her nurses did measurements and footprints and the visitors and parents kissed and took pictures of her. Her big pink lips were more than adorable as she sucked on her bottom lip like it was her job; the nurse called it "peanut butter lip." I couldn't believe she was ours.
Being wheeled to the maternity section with my swaddled daughter in my arms was the first moment I got to really take it all in. I'm a mom. This is my child. She is beautiful. And when they had Ken press the button to play the lullabye that let everyone know on the floor that a newborn was here, I cried. My heart could burst with all the emotions I felt that day and in the coming days.
We had so many visitors in the first few days following Kylan's birth. I loved seeing how loved she was. The common consensus being that she was "perfect." And she really was. Now, 12 days later the visitors have died down but the love remains and grows.
My breasts get tingly hearing her cry and it makes me feel connected to her like when she was in my belly. Maternal instincts are really no joke. I almost always know what my baby needs whether it's to swaddle her because her flaling arms are causing her distress or she needs to be moving because motion-- with a pacifier being a close second-- is calming to her.
Daddy and I are big fans of the many faces of Kylan. Including the "pouty face," the "stink face," or the "serious face" used exclusively when she is concentrating on the breast.
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