Esme

I struggle to pen the details though memory is perfected and sentiment heightened. I see you and retell your entrance into this world daily. Expectedly, you came but in a much unexpected way. We waited months for you. We counted down the days. We were anxious and excited and willed the hours away. And on the day, having not yet seen you, we never left your side. You were slow and resistant, even with medical encouragement. But you surprised us all when you made yourself known and I nearly missed it. The nurse was convinced it wasn’t your time and then suddenly you appeared head first for just the briefest moment before falling out face up with the cord wrapped around your neck twice. Had the nurse not been in close proximity, I fear you would’ve fallen…but she caught you by the arm and leg.

I felt a pause the moment I first saw you. A pause in breath and a pause in my pulse. But as soon as your sound filled the room, I was overwhelmed with a flood of tears. If my ribs were levies, they would’ve crumbled by a sweeping flood…but despite the flooding, I stood firm…raised the crook of my arm to my face as if to lean into something for support…and sobbed uncontrollably with awe and wonder by the witness of your birth.

You were born at 8:15pm, give or take. We will never truly know the exact time since you came so suddenly in those moments. What I do know is that as soon as the nurses laid you down, I was at your side. I vividly recall reaching in between the nurses arms to hold your hand, which you grabbed tightly and instinctually. There are pictures to document this and years from now you will ask to see the first carbon copy of your entrance…but pictures cannot document the swell and tug of my heart to yours. Nor can pictures capture the connections firing in my brain. So much had changed in a matter of a day, within hours that dwindled to minutes, to seconds and the spaces in between. I had prepared myself for months but none of the preparation could’ve presented a moment so perfect as to what actually unfolded.

In all honesty, it’s still surreal to call myself your mother. But labels need not apply here. To you I am the familiar face in a world unfamiliar to you. Its amazing how one thing can matter so much and how true that the small things will someday be the big things that truly matter. And to me you are so much more than my biological niece. You are so much more than the legal term “Daughter.” You are so much more because I chose you above anything else. I made rooms for you within my soul marked for permanency. My commitment to you supersedes everything. And the love I have for you is boundless. I do not know the pace at which my love expands…only that it does daily.

I am in awe of your sound and presence. I dote on your growing abilities. Like a historian I document your progress…the first time you lifted your head, the first time you laced your fingers together, the first time you smiled, your growth, etc. The doctor says you are weeks advanced… confirmation that I am not a biased mother in my gloating. And yet you are small…small but mighty. 😉 You smiled on Day 2 and haven’t stopped smiling since. You are happy and peacefully content. You are alert and keen to focus. I have never met a spirit like yours and daily you reveal more.

Just yesterday I was playing a range of music and you were strongly reacting to each genre. At three weeks, you seem to have a preference for the early Jazz singers. Billie Holiday, Doris Day, Julie London, Ruth Olay, etc. And you get a kick when I sing along to you. You seem least interested in classical, though the first tune you ever heard was Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. And funnily enough, I think you like your back patted to Jeff Buckley’s Be Your Husband. It must be those consistent beats that bring out the burps for you.

What I wish for you is not uncommon of any other mother. Often I hear parents want their children to have a better, happier childhood…to be healthy, loved and mindful to others. I too want all these things for you…especially a happier childhood filled with love. Nothing is more important than now. “It’s easier to build up a child than it is to repair an adult.” I promise I will do all I can to enrich your soul so that you can enrich others in return. What I also promise though is to not shield you from the ugliness of the world but to learn from it and to combat it in healthy ways. There is strength in knowing the choices and challenges others face, where they’ve been and where they’re going without passing judgment. Others will be less fortunate than you and some, more. I hope I am able to teach you compassion, humility and respect. I hope to broaden your world outside of yourself. I hope to give you the toolset to be passionate yet objective and encourage critical thinking in you so that you can reach your own truths…spiritually, intellectually or otherwise. In other words, I just want you to be you, and that you will love who you are and know that you are loved in return.

I cannot deny that you will more than likely face some obstacles and challenges of your own…not because of you…but because of me and who I love. The whole world is not like this and by the time you’re older, perhaps it won’t be so much an issue. There is promise in progress…but as of now, the country we live in and the state we live in is less than understanding and supportive of families that are different…from laws to beliefs of others. I know there are some that have concern for you in this area although you’re only 3weeks old. There’s a learning lesson here…as adults we tend to make things more complicated than they have to be. We will take this as and if it comes, knowing you will have the life skills to deal with any difficulties or opposition. Just know you’re not the only one that comes from a “different” family and there’s nothing wrong with being different…just as there is nothing wrong with being yourself.

But let us return to the now where you are doing exactly just that…being who you are…sleeping and smiling through bouts of alertness and sleep. What you like: My face. Your head rubbed. Stretching out. Noise. Bath time. A’s chest to lay on. Dry diapers. Your boppy pillow. What you don’t like:  Not falling asleep without me near. Being swaddled (you are perhaps the first baby since the history of swaddling not to like this!)Not having your pacifier, despite my personal dislike for it. And you’ve somehow mastered the skill of how to keep it in your mouth by holding it with your hands. Just how do you do that so early, smart girl?! You are a constant wonder and I love you all the more sweet girl. Ahh that reminds me… nicknames for you: “Cheekers” for those massive cheeks of yours… and “Puppy” for all your cute grunting and happy sighs. You make it easy to love

you my precious girl.