Like a switch had been flipped when they laid his wet, goopy baby self on my chest after birth.
When they said, "7lbs, 13oz", I smiled, because I knew that I had earned every one of those numbers.
It was a crazy moment, crossing that finish line. It had been my focal point for 40 weeks. Going in, I wasn't even sure how I was going to feel when the race ended. I had no idea what to expect. Relief? Joy? Hunger? Exhaustion? It seemed like a combination of all these things when it was over.
When they set Joseph on my chest, I knew that race had ended. I had run that race for miles and miles against all sorts of discomfort and disbelief that I could make it one more step. But each step had a purpose and value.
So the best way I can describe it is this - though the race was longer and harder than I could have ever imagined, when I crossed that finish line, my legs were not tired at all.
Welcome, sweet baby Joe.
hyperemesis gravidarum: 0