I've heard so many say that motherood changes your life forever. And I've nodded and said, "Of course it does." For me, this statement was elementary. It meant that there were no more spontaneous road trips. No more Saturday nights out at nice restaurants. No time to yourself. But that's really not what this means at all. I mean, yes, motherhood does change your life in these ways. But from my perspective, the heart of this statement about change is this: one 6 pound 10 oz little girl has turned my world on its axis with an intense, overwhelming, and all-consuming love such that I've never before experienced. I never thought I could love someone as much as I do my daughter. (I have a daughter!). This is what the change born from motherhood is about for me.
We arrived home on Friday. She is doing wonderfully. She looks like her dad. I have a hard time seeing me in her face. She has slept through the night since she was born. I've had to wake her up to feed her. My mom is staying with us for a week to help out, which has been great. We've had a housefull of visitors for the past two days, which has been both exhausting and gratifying (so many people to love and hold her). And there have been approximately 1 trillion photos snapped of Isabella in various friends' and relatives' arms. The poor dear now knows what it feels like to be Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, minus the ridiculously attractive parents.
I'll fill you in on the details of Isabella's birth soon. As I type this, she's fussing in the bassinett next to my bed. But I will tell you this now. I cried throughout the whole surgery. And not because it was painful (although parts of it were). And not because I was scared (although I certainly was). I cried because lying on that table, with my arms extended on either side, and hooked up to heartrate monitors, an IV, and a blood pressure cuff, with a blue tarp six inches from my face and extending vertically up to shield me from seeing the surgery, and with four surgeons pulling and yanking at my temporarily paralyzed body, the only thought in my mind was that my journey through the center of the hell of infertility was over. I was minutes away from having my baby, the one for whom I fought for over two years to have, and during that time, I truly believed I was the luckiest girl on the face of the earth. I still believe I am.Isabella has a whole stockpile of faces she makes when she's about let one loose in her nether regions. This is one of her more endearing.
Isabella sings an aria during her tryout for La Boheme.
One of only three pictures in existence of me and Isabella. And no, I'm not kidding.
Thank you to Marie and Karrie for keeping everyone updated on Ella's arrival. And for everyone's well wishes on their blogs and on mine, I am so grateful and honored. I plan on printing these out for her baby book, so she knows how many people cared about her arrival into the world.