The day Ramona was born felt very surreal. It felt like it wasn't really happening to me. I almost felt like a passive observer at times, despite the pain and pushing, and when she started to cry for the first time I was almost confused. She's a real baby? Oh yeah. That first night Ramona spent in the world I barely slept. I couldn't stop looking at her. I was afraid I would forget what she looked like if I didn't look at her. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that this beautiful little person was the same one who had grown inside me.
I was holding her that night and she got the hiccups. It was strange and familiar at the same time. I'd felt her hiccups when she was in my belly so many times. Then I was feeling those same hiccups against the outside of my belly. I watched her little chest rise and fall. It occurred to me that she was now an independent living organism. Keeping that little chest rising and falling was my job from now on.
A few weeks later, I was struck by her humanity again. She was in just a diaper and I just finished nursing her. I pulled her up and she slept with her chest on my chest. I could feel her tiny heart beating against me. I thought about how amazing, strong, and healthy, but fragile she was at the same time.
Tonight was another night I couldn't stop looking at her while she slept. I kept watching her breathe. Her little lips opened up as she sighed in her sleep. She is mine to love and protect. Her chest still rises and falls each night. I must be doing something right.
Hopefully I'll stop being overwhelmed by her mere existence sometime before it gets creepy for me to watch her sleep.
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