Welcome to Crosbyville: Half a Year

Half a year ago around 2am, just two short hours after meeting your beautiful self for the first time, I got wheeled into a cold and tiny postpartum hospital room.

Exhausted from the journey we just took together, your dad fell asleep quickly on the fold out chair contraption that was his bed for the next 2 nights.

I laid in the bed cold and hurting, longing to hold you again.

The nurse brought you in, you were swaddled tightly and were warm when she handed you to me. She told me how beautiful you were and that you were strong and healthy. We shared a little laugh about how the nursery was crowded and all the babies were crying. The nurse said that when she looked over at you in your bassinet you were just laying there with your eyes big and open, blinking slowly, taking it all in. My girl.

She left and turned the lights off saying "please call when you decide you want some rest, I'll come back and get her from you....congratulations."

I smiled and nodded, sat up in bed and undid your tight swaddle so I could study your sweet, tiny body.

Your skin was still wrinkly from swimming around in my belly for almost 10 months, your lips pink and soft, and your hair still a little wet from the bath the nurse gave you in the nursery.

You let out a soft, squeaky cry, probably slightly perturbed that I just released you from your tight, comfy cocoon. I unbuttoned my hospital gown at the top and slipped you in to be closer to where you came from. I felt you relax, all 6 pounds of you on my chest. I took a deep breath and relaxed my body just like you had just done.

You were here. My girl.

My heart would never be the same.

I held you that way for over an hour, staring down at your beautiful profile. I don't really remember what I was thinking about during these precious moments. I mostly just remember being silent, breathing you in and stroking your fuzzy hair and soft skin.

Once you started to stir, I fed you, and you quickly went back to sleep. We cuddled until the sun came up. I don't think I took my eyes off of you once.

The doctor came in early and your dad woke up. I handed you over to him and you drew him in just like you had done to me.

You have a way of doing that to us, Ruby. A way of stealing our hearts and making us feel like we have loved you all our lives, whether it's been 6 hours or 6 months. It feels like you have always been right here in our hearts.

I'm thankful for those quiet, still moments we got to spend together 6 months ago. I will never forget those first moments of getting to know you, my darling girl.

You are so very precious to us.