Wednesday, May 7, 2014

to remember: Magnolia - 2 weeks

Dear Magnolia,

There are so many things I want to remember about newborn you.

I want to remember the first moment I met you and how I mostly just couldn't believe you had a full head of dark hair.  You were all white and "cheesy", calm and alert, just like your brother.  

I want to remember how I cried with relief after a long and hard pregnancy and how I realized looking at you that you were totally worth every minute of sickness, anxiety, aches and pains.  I want to remember how delicate, perfect and beautiful you were (and still are). I want to remember how you stole everyone's hearts when they met you and how you were happy to let anyone hold and cuddle you. 

I want to remember how a nurse came into our room late one night and saw that your hair wasn't properly washed by the previous nurse. I want to remember how she exclaimed that this was "absolutely unacceptable" and how she gently washed, combed and "styled" your hair saying over and over again how beautiful you were. 

After you came into the world I slowly started to realize that my right leg was numb and the muscles weren't working.  As the hours and days passed, more and more nurses, doctors and specialists would come in to my hospital room with worried looks and soon I was told I probably wouldn't walk on my own for months.  I want to remember how I would try to hold back my tears as I asked your Papa to lay you right in front of me so I could focus on the precious gift you were and try not to get overwhelmed by the news I was receiving.  I want to remember how you made this time joyful and hopeful in the midst of a vast unknown. 

I want to remember how exceptionally easy and laid back you were right from the beginning.  You barely ever cried or fussed.  You would sweetly smack your lips when you were hungry,  nurse like a pro, then go right back to sleep.  I want to remember how you were happy just sitting with your almost couch-ridden Mama and didn't need me to walk or pace with you. It's almost as if you knew (or God knew) that I needed a laid back baby.

I want to remember your newborn curl, your cute little pouty lip, your mop of soft dark hair, your adorable little grunts and coos, your sleep smiles.   

I want to remember how happy you make your big brother.  How you don't mind his smothering hugs and kisses and are content (no, happy!) to be held and coddled by him.  I want to remember how he adoringly calls you "my Maggie" and tells you numerous times a day how much he loves you. 

My dear Magnolia, this time has been sweet.  My injury has forced me to slow down and savor every moment with you.  They say time flies and I found that out for myself with your brother Levi. I'm so thankful that despite the hardships of this time, I've been given the opportunity for lots of slow time with you. 

I love you.  I love getting to know you. You'll always be my girl. 


1 comment:

  1. This is such a beautiful letter and I love your attitude towards your injury. I wondered if you would call her Maggie.