Monday, January 10, 2011

An Open Letter to Robin Emily on the Anniversary of Her Birth

Dear Robin,

I remember the day you were born very clearly. I was 7 days overdue and I was really, REALLY tired of being pregnant. Bona fide contractions finally started and I had labored at home all night. The next morning I was exhausted but excited because the contractions were getting closer together. The Dr. said we could head to the hospital. Yea!! When we got there the contractions completely stopped! Nooooooooo!! They gave me a little medicine that got the contractions going again and at about 6:45pm you were born! Hooray!!

If you want the gory details, I'll share those with you later.

The Dr. handed you to a nurse who was holding an open blanket and she took you and laid you on my chest and then covered you. At first you were really mad, (probably because they wouldn't let push the snooze button again). You were crying and complaining but as soon as you were cuddled up you were quiet. You had two little sores on the top of your head from the monitors. They had been worried about your heart rate and oxygen levels.

I looked at you so little and pink and I thought . . . well, I thought, "When are they going to take this baby so I can sleep?"

I was really disappointed at my reaction to this extremely significant moment in my life. I was suddenly a mother! Where was that deep love women talked about? Where was that moment of connection they described? Where was the excitement?

A week or so later, you and I were still getting to know each other and I was holding you, looking at you. We were sitting in the pink, wing-back chair and I saw a little spider crawling on the blanket you were swaddled in. I was appalled! I was furious! I couldn't believe something so ugly and repulsive would dare to come near you!

I took that spider and squished it between my fingers. I squished it with malice in my heart. I hoped it felt pain and I hoped that any other spiders in the house would see this public squishing as a warning not to touch my baby! I'm not exaggerating.

Now you know how I feel about spiders but that was nothing, NOTHING compared to what I was just beginning to feel for my little Robin. Oh! How I loved you! How I adored you! Even then, feeling that depth of love and protectiveness, I had no idea that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

So here we are 20 years later and you have far surpassed any expectations or dreams I had for you. You are wise and funny and beautiful and have one of the keenest minds in I know. You astound me at every turn!

I'm SO THANKFUL that I've had a front row seat for these last 20 years of your life and hope you'll keep that seat reserved for me for the next 20 years and more.

I love you to the sky my girl!


P.S. I am also thankful that you are old enough to kill spiders by yourself.