This love is crazy

Whelp, I had a baby.

And looking back, there is zero mention of it here on the blog. The post we made for the New Year was my last post before we found out (but actually I was already pregnant, just in very, very early pregnancy). I'm not sure why I never posted about the pregnancy, it's most likely part fear of jinxing it and part being distracted by it.

Our little girl is currently sleeping on my chest. Her little breaths are currently my whole universe. And since she was born I've had the itch to write down the memories and emotions. This love is crazy.

Dear June,

We named you June for two reasons: for the song "June Hymn" by The Decemberists. And also--you know how the month of June feels? Beautiful and warm and bright? When it's finally summer after all that winter? That's you. You are our June.

I found out that June was coming in January. I didn't know it was you yet, because I didn't know whether you were a little boy or a little girl, but something told me you were June. Your dad kept telling me to take a pregnancy test, but I kept refusing (I can be a little stubborn), but early on a snowy Wednesday morning I took the test and may have yelled a couple of 4 letter words when two lines appeared. Your dad was sick with the flu and came running into the bathroom with two tissues up his nose and we cried together in happiness.

You made me very sick all through the end of winter. February was the longest shortest month. So much snow and so much staring at the toilet while your dad held my hair.

I'll fast forward through the middle months, but just know I was a bit neurotic while I carried you inside me. I'm a bit neurotic generally, but this was a new level. I thought everything was jinxing it. I would get nervous when people gave me gifts for you, I procrastinated thinking about the nursery or reading pregnancy books, black cats terrified me, I was afraid when I bent over I would squish you (this one was the silliest), I got a pedicure and then panicked that I had sent myself into early labor and your dad came home to me in pieces with worry. This is just a little sample. I tell you this in case you're anything like me, so you know where you get it from.

But despite all my worry, you grew. And before I knew it August was here. And with August came a spike in my blood pressure. The doctor put me on bed rest (not the easiest for my brain, but you were more important than that). You were big in my belly and making me breathless. I watched the Perseid meteor shower with you inside me. I turned 30 while carrying you. I read Wuthering Heights, watched too much reality TV and waited for you.

And then you came.

We walked into the hospital on Sunday night. It was 100 degrees outside. I wore my Beyonce shirt for courage. Hurricane Harvey was hitting Texas hard as we watched CNN in the lobby. I thought about the women there giving birth in the eye of a storm.

I labored with you that night. Listening to your heartbeat on the monitor. I didn't really pay attention to anything else. The next night I asked your dad if he heard the heartbeat monitor going off in the room next door. There was none, I was just so focused on your heartbeat for so long I was still hearing it. Your dad kissed my forehead and laughed.

My induced labor was fast with you, when things got going they really got going. Your Aunt Cate was trying to make it in time from the airport, but I started to push early in the morning and she got there just after you arrived.

The pushing was long, but other women push longer. Two hours of work trying to bring you into the world. About an hour and a half in I started to doubt myself. I didn't think I could do it. Your dad told me I could do anything. My whole body was shaking and I was so tired, but then the nurse asked if I wanted to see you. I wanted nothing more than to see you. So I looked in the mirror the nurse held up and there you were. The top of your perfect head.

My June. I wished on a hundred dandelions for you, said a million prayers, used all my birthday wishes, crossed all my fingers and toes, and held my breath for 9 months for you. So I pushed harder and you were crowning.

They called the doctor. I waited, then it was time, and one more push brought you into the world. The feeling when you left my body was indescribable. I know you made a little noise, but I wanted you to scream so I knew you were okay. The doctor put you right on my chest and your dad and I cried. I've never seen that look on your dad's face and I've known him 15 years now.

They took you to clean you up and check on you. I didn't take my eyes off of you. I was worried you weren't making enough noise, but the nurse kept saying you were perfect. The doctor was telling me I had lost quite a bit of blood. Several more nurses came in the room. But I don't really remember what was going on, I just remember you on that little table with your dad next to you. You were so tiny, but you also seemed sturdy and strong already. Six pounds with lots of hair. I felt immediately I would do anything for you Junebug. Endure any pain.

They were still fixing me up and stopping the bleeding-- and your temperature was low, so your dad went with you to the nursery while I stayed behind. Then my big sister (your Aunt Cate) arrived and we hugged and cried. I told her how much hair you had. They brought you back to me and I held you for hours.

And just like that we had a daughter. We brought you home two days later during a summer storm.

That night with you in the bassinet by my side of the bed, with rain on the windows in our little house by the mountains, I listened to all of us breathing. You made little noises like a dove. And I thought, this is heaven.