YOU ARE HERE! You came! You arrived the day before your due date and, oh my goodness, you are the most amazingly beautiful little person I have ever, ever seen. It’s like your face shows all of the love I feel for you. You are over-whelming.
Even as I write this, I can hardly believe it though. I look at you often, admiring how perfect you are, and it just blows me away that something as wonderful as you came from us – that we made you! In that very first moment that I saw your little face, and could finally touch you, smell you, hear your little noises, and appreciate how very real you are – it was so utterly surreal to think that just moments before you had still been inside of my own body. You will always be our little piece of magic, baby!
I will never forget the first moment I saw you, ever.
You came after what was an intense 3 day labour, which had resulted in an emergency c-section. I have to tell you, baby – it was the exact opposite of how I had prepared and imagined birthing you. And, in so many ways, I initially felt as though I had let you down.
You see, after a comfortable and healthy pregnancy, I had prepared to birth you calmly at home in a birthing pool, without any drugs or interventions. What I did not expect was to have to go to hospital, at 2am, after my waters first broke and there was a loss of blood. Nor did I expect to be allowed home to labour as planned only to return again the next day after my 10 hour labour (which I was actually really enjoying!) had abruptly stopped. And I really did not expect to be told you were in the wrong position and becoming distressed, or to be induced with artificial hormones to get things moving, or to be plugged into all kinds of drips and machines, or to need your daddy to help me to use the toilet, or to eventually need an epidural, and a catheter, and to be horizontal in a bed for 12 hours unable to move my own body from my chest down, or to be unable to sleep at all, or not allowed to eat anything, or to have the epidural wear off and then have our midwife put her hands inside of me to try and turn you in a last desperate attempt to get you out naturally, or to eventually hear the words “we have a 30 minute window in theatre, get her in now.” I felt as though everything was out of my control and that I was helpless.
I didn’t expect to lay there immobile on the hospital bed, away with the fairies of the gas and air, whilst a team of medical staff quickly prepared my body for theatre. I didn’t expect to see your daddy, getting into his theatre scrubs at the other side of the room, privately wiping his tears away with a tissue, not knowing that I saw him.
Oh baby, I want you to know that I did everything I could, and gave everything I had, to birth you naturally and comfortably. I hung on as long as possible, to give you the time to turn, but after my body had opened up to 9cm I was finally told that you were stuck and we had to get you out immediately. And baby, I want you to know that I would have done anything to ensure that we got you.
Your birth was definitely not the calm water birth we had planned for you at home – but I really need you to know baby that it was still a labour of love.
And you know what else? I didn’t expect to be so taken care of; to be treated with such warmth and compassion by the medical staff, who never once forgot my name and who genuinely cared about my feelings. I didn’t expect to hear the surgeon ask for music to be put on once I was in the operating theatre, and to then hear a song that meant so much to me. And, most of all, I didn’t expect to feel such greater depths of your daddy’s love for me. I saw more tears from him, baby – but this time they were happy tears – at the moment you were lifted up for us to see.
A little boy. Our little boy. And we named you Beau Xavier.
Baby, you were so precious! I wanted to reach up and grab you, to hold you close to me.
I will never forget the moment I turned to look at your daddy and how we said to each other, almost in unison, “it’s Beau!” Before we kissed and said “I love you, I love you” about a million times, letting our tears mix together, before I sent him to get you.
And so, for that first time we met, baby, I was completely exhausted, drugged, tearful and frightened… but at the moment you were brought over and held to me, cheek-to-cheek, whilst the surgeon sewed my body back up – the journey we had taken to get you here was completely forgotten. It no longer mattered, because you were here. You were what mattered.
My precious baby, we rubbed noses and had kisses for what felt like ages. Smelling each other’s skin and looking into each other’s eyes. I will never forget how beautiful that moment was. I kept saying “hello baby, you’re here” over and over, and when your daddy had to take you away to be assessed you grabbed hold of a piece of my hair and wouldn’t let go.
I later found out that you had taken your first breath and let out your first cry, when you heard my voice call out your name. I like to think that you already knew me baby, just as I already knew you. I often wondered if you could hear my thoughts, just as you could hear my heartbeat – and I couldn’t help but worry for you after your birth, thinking how you might be so frightened by suddenly being outside of me.
So it was with much relief that I was eventually wheeled out into the recovery room, where your daddy was holding you skin-to-skin. Waiting for me. Our family finally all together.
That night in the hospital ward, when the lights were out and your daddy had been told he needed to go home – it was just us. I kept you in my bed with me, even though I was told I wasn’t allowed, and I let you sleep on a little pillow snuggled by my side.
I told you that I will always be here for you, and I hope you heard me baby.
And so – here you are! Our little Beau Xavier, our handsome, welcome to our world. You have already made it a more beautiful place.
Never forget that you are so wanted, so needed. And so completely adored.
Your Mumma. Xxx
[Our first meeting]
[Your daddy captured the love I felt after I first got to hold you, in recovery.]
[our Beau Xavier – how we love you.]