Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

Dear Livi:

It wasn't until you were about 18 hours old that we finally had our moment. Your dad was fast asleep in the chair next to my bed, his bloodshot eyes finally closed. I looked down at you and everything I thought would happen when Dr. Spoon handed you to me immediately after birth finally came together. I spoke softly to you and you laid in my arms quiet and attentive, listening to my voice, following the shape of my face with your beautiful blue eyes.

We fell madly in love.

You didn't come exactly as we'd hoped, your big, beautiful head a little too much for me to handle. After fourteen hours of labor, three hours of pushing and a quick heart to heart with the doctor, a man who leaned on my knees, stared me in the eyes and said, "You get two more tries before I call it," we ended up in an operating room at 7 in the morning.

I tried really hard.

And had two black eyes to show for it the next day.

Dr. Spoon told me to rest and I fell asleep for a few minutes while they prepped me, your dad in a chair right next to me. I heard the doctor talk about your head, your cheeks and your long, long legs before I ever heard you cry.

And when you did cry?

Me and your dad did too.

Your daddy went over to the warmer as the nurses were cleaning you up and weighing you while I laid there and worried that you wouldn't know me by the time I could touch you. I worried that you'd reject me like a kitten rejecting it's mom. Silly. I know.

I didn't get to hold you for what seemed like a very long time. But once I did, I didn't want to put you down.

You, my love, are perfect. The nurses keep telling us that you're a gorgeous baby and your dad has since been heard wondering if he's on some kind of baby crack since most babies look a little like fleshy raisins and we think you're the most beautiful child ever born.

Your dad has also handled every single diaper while I've been nursing a sore tummy. He's an expert Desitin applier, but has to get the burping thing down. He's too worried he's going to hurt you, but I figure a few more spit ups and he'll be a pro.

We can't wait to get you home and show you where you're going to live, your room, your dogs, your life outside of a hospital.

Your life with us, my love.

Love and mush,

Mom

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Livi was born on April 29th at 7:25 a.m. weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 20.5 inches long. There was a lot of joking in the operating room that she had upstaged the royal wedding. I apologize that Trevor and I haven't been the best about posting photos. After getting a bad case of the chills and some pain they've decided to keep us for a bit and we're still eating jello. Well, I am. Miss Livi is doing her best to regain her figure.