Seven weeks ago tomorrow, I gave birth to a chubby little cherub named Caroline Grace. We had her name picked out before we found out she was a girl, and sometimes the name you choose doesn't fit the personality of the tiny human that is yours. Caroline Grace fits perfectly. She is strong and good.
Over the past seven weeks I have learned more about myself than I could have ever imagined and to be truthful, more than I ever wanted to imagine. I grew up loving baby dolls and loving the opportunities I had to love on babies. I always felt such a sense of pride when I would hold someone's baby and they were comfortable with me. It was always something that I was good at. When Caroline was born, it was different. I felt proud that she was mine because she was so perfect, but I didn't feel proud because I knew what I was doing. It was the total opposite. I had more questions in the first week of her life than I care to admit. It was hard. It is hard. But I feel like this week I started to get the hang of things. We're on a schedule: eat, play, sleep. She loves it, I love it, things are going great! And then, this morning happens. Mornings are a struggle for me. Caroline normally wakes up around 5, I feed her, and put her back in bed. She doesn't normally settle as well after this feeding, so a lot of times I will hold her and we'll both sleep. No judgement, please. Well this morning, Tommy brought her to me when she woke up at 8:30. I decided I would feed her in my bed instead of feeding her in her nursery. It's always harder to do this because I don't feel like I can get comfortable, but I was too lazy to go all the way to her room. So I started nursing her. After she finished the first side, I looked around for a burp cloth but didn't have one. So, I looked over in the pack and play and saw a blanket I could use. I leaned over and tried to grab it, but it was just out of my reach. I stretched a little farther and then it happened. I had put Caroline down on the pillow in my lap while I reached for the blanket and when I reached just that little extra distance, I knocked her off of the bed. I can't describe the feelings that I felt. Horror, shock, shame, fear, anger, and sadness. I could NOT believe that I had been so thoughtless and lazy that I did that. She landed on her belly with her little hands up next to her face. She cried and Tommy and I checked every inch of her little body. No bruises, redness, tender spots, nothing. Once I felt like she was okay, I lost it. I have never cried like that before. I felt the most intense sense of guilt. I still can't let myself think about it, because I can see it all play out in my mind and it hurts just as bad now as it did then.
Today felt like a physical reenactment of what my life has been like over the last seven weeks. Fast, unexpected, scary, and okay. It's not okay that I was not as careful as I should have been, but she was okay. She is okay. I screwed up, and she's okay. I've always wanted to be a mom, but being a mom is hard. It is tiring, frustrating, and scary. When mom's would say it's the hardest job you'll ever do, but it's so rewarding, I could never understand. But now I do. I know Caroline. I know what will make her laugh, I know what she needs, I know when she's going to spit up. I can hear her cry across the house in a dead sleep and get to her before she has a chance to shed a tear. That is the reward. All of your hard work pays off when you look in those tiny little eyes and realize that they need YOU. It's incredible. These weeks have gone by fast and many unexpected and scary things have happened, but we're okay. Every day we fall in love with each other a little bit more, and I can't wait for every day that I have with her. She is my strong and good baby girl. She's My Sweet Caroline.
