“The greater your storm, the brighter your rainbow.”
Four years ago tonight, my husband and I grabbed chipotle for one last bite before driving to the hospital to be induced with my daughter. My age, coupled with life long high blood pressure, made my doctors want this baby to be born in my 39th week of pregnancy. As we drove there, all nervous excitement, all I could think of “we are safe now, my baby girl will be born alive,” knowing that we would be monitored the minute I entered the hospital doors. Nine months of worry, anxiety and fear left my body with a deep exhale. We had reached the finish line, I could hardly believe it.
Although I thought I would meet her the day after I was induced, Miss A had other plans for me. It would be almost four days before I would see her little pink face and hold her in my arms. I would go through 36 hours of induced labor followed by active labor, pushing for an hour, only to be told my pelvis was too small and a c section was needed. I won’t bore you with the details, but her labor mirrored the process it took to conceive her, hard, emotional and way way longer than I could have imagined.
Then, at 353 on July 15, life changed in an instance.
I’ll never forget her first cries. I heard her before I saw her but when I finally laid eyes on her I could hardly believe it. She was finally here. The little bean that I had seen almost weekly on hard to decipher ultrasound machines was a living, breathing being. She was all mine and she was perfect. As her dad held her for the first time, I stroked her cheeks as she cried. Then finally, the blissful moment when finally they placed her in my arms as we were wheeled out of OR, past the excited nurses, the smiling faces the congratulations as we made our way to recovery. They were a blur of faces, words and good wishes, but I was on cloud nine and in my own world. I finally had my girl, here in my arms. After three years, three losses, nine months of constant worry and four days of labor she was here. My Arabella. My answered prayer. Everything I has imagined and then some. My greatest hope realized. Finally.
This same little pink faced baby who was determined NOT to leave my body without a fight, turns four this weekend. I can hardly believe it. I’ve been emotional for months really anticipating this-birthday.
Four is a hard one. She’s starting to look more like a kid less like a toddler. Day by day she grows and as I hold her 8 month old brother I find it harder to remember the feel of her as a baby. Her first crawl, her first steps and words. It’s all become a blur-past memories intermingled with the little sassy chatterbox she has become.
My Arabella is four. Where did time go? How is it possible. I can remember trying to get pregnant with her and the moment I learned I finally was. The tears I shed, not of happiness, but of fear that I would have another loss and that would be it for me- a future with no children. I remember the calendar I kept, counting down the weeks until the pregnancy would be safe, then viable. Milestone after milestone finally being met and reached and finally the realization that I was in fact going to have a baby. She was in fact going to be born, healthy, and alive and mine.
The Arabella that only existed in my head for so long, is now a force to be reckoned with. She has a million stuffed animals who she refers to as “her guys.”Each and every one of them has a name. If she loses one, it’s a national emergency until they are found. She is sweet, but stubborn. Sassy and bossy in the best possible way.
She loves her dogs and has an open heart. Everyone she meets is a potential friend and every activity I’ve signed her up for, she’s loved. Whether it be dance gymnastics or music she enjoys it all.
She never ever stops talking. I am not exaggerating. I thought I talked a lot until I had her. She will wake up at three am sometimes to use the bathroom and will resume conversations with me as if it was. Noontime. Most nights, she falls asleep Mid sentence.
When she was a baby she couldn’t fall asleep without me holding her hands. As a soon to be four year old, she still needs me in the night. “Lay with me mommy, Mommy can I come in your bed?. My blanket fell off,” and the list goes on and on. These are the days where I am still needed. In the night, in the day. I am still mommy and I am still her number one person. I fear the day, when that might change.
For four years I have had the blessing of spending our mornings eating waffles and watching cartoons. Taking walks. Going to beaches and bookstores and museums. Rockland trips and playgrounds. Dance and gymnastics and art classes and the list is endless. She has been my constant companion for four years now playing together , being together and now spending time with her baby brother together too. We are a team. We are inseparable. They are my everything.
As much I would like to keep her little and by my side forever, I know she is meant to be more then that. I can’t contain the spirt she has. Her eagerness to learn, her thirst for new experiences, and her curiosity about the world in general. My Arabella, is just nothing short of spectacular. Everywhere she goes, she brings the sparkly and the sassy and I know that whatever she will do, she will do it with enthusiasm and pizazz.
So here’s to the girl who made me a mom four years ago. The little rainbow baby, who brought the hope and color back into our world.
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