crossing the finish line

The minute he was out, I felt better.

 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
Chrissy: 1

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