Narrative Essay — The Birth of my Daugher
It was day like any other day, one that revolved around me and my wants and needs, but all that was about to change. The sun was shining through my bedroom window of the small two bedroom apartment that was shared between me and my roommate. The day was a nice enough day for all to enjoy.
With temperatures in the 80’s and not a cloud in the beautiful Carolina blue sky, who wouldn’t want to enjoy a day like that? Not me. Not when I was nine months pregnant, with only seven days till doom’s day and whale (yep, spelled it that way on purpose) past the 25-35 pounds suggest by my doctor that I should gain.
I was sick from not being able to stomach even the thought of food, which was unusual for me and was starting to have some pains in my abdomen but had brushed it off, thinking it was due to the nausea. It didn’t take long to realize that the baby I was carrying was ready to meet me when the back pains started to become regular and more intense. As I laid on the beautifully crafted gold and burgundy comforter that was spread over my bed, I started to fell pressure in my lower back. It was as if someone was taking dull knives and running them deep in to my muscles along the top of my tailbone.
There was no doubting the fact that my labor had started when I got up and noticed that same elegant comforter was now forever stained. My water had broke causing the pains to bring me to my knees. With tears in my eyes, I was ready for some relief from the pain and wanted to get to the hospital in order to get an epideral(wonderful things that make you numb from the waist down). It didn’t take long to get to the hospital, especially since the ride was in an ambulance. Thanks to my roommate who dialed 911 in a moment of panic; hers’ not mine, she deemed it necessary to dail 911 and request assistance.
If that is what you would call a request, screaming at the top of your lungs at the 911 dispatcher. The pain had become unbearable and I was forever thankful when I was told by the mid-wife that it was time to start pushing the baby out. Two minutes later at 12:37pm on a bright Tuesday afternoon, my daughter was born. She seemed so small and fragile but the effect was immeasurable. Lynssa Grace Girma Adugna, 6lbs. 5oz. 20 1/5in. Her hair was so shiny that it looked brown with touches of gold thrown in here and there. Her eyes were such a deep, dark blue that they look like the ocean at night.
She was breathtaking. When our eyes met for the first time I felt my heart skip a beat. As I held that tiny bundle, that was just as much a part of me as I was a part of her, my mind was in awe of how much I immediately felt such an overwhelming amount of love for her. The kind of love that I felt in that moment was instant and was more intense then any emotion I had every felt. I never knew that this kind of love was possible, to be able to love something or someone the way that I loved her. I knew then that I would go to any lengths to make her happy and to give her everything that she every needed.
I swore to give her my absolute best and I meant every word. My entire existence had been meaningless up until then, or at least everything I had every accomplished felt like it failed in comparison to her, my daughter. I had never knew that there was an emptiness in my heart until this completeness replaced where there once was a void. When my daughter came home the “real world” begun. I traded nights with the girls for a night with the most important girl, and nights out with friends, to midnight feedings and diaper changes. These times were stressful without a doubt.
Although all I needed to make them worth the work was a glimpse of her smile. Which she would give while she was sleeping. I am told that babies are dreaming about angels when they smile like that. These late nights were hard to handle when they were followed with early morning wake up calls which gave way to a morning full of much needed errands. My life was no longer my own. Life now circled around this tiny little human which I was trusted to take care of . Before Lynssa came along, I was not the one who you could find in a church pew on Sunday. You did good to see me on the holidays such as Christmas and Easter for that matter.
Now that I was responsible for someone else’s mortal soul, it seemed very important to get back in church and to teach her the same values that were instilled in me. So now you can be sure where to find me on Sunday. I wanted to be sure to incorporate Christian values and beliefs into my child’s heart and mind, and the only way to do that was to but them back into mine. Even though my child is very young and not likely to remember these times, somehow I still believe that it is important to behave a certain way. I also changed not only my outlook on life but also my outward appearance as well.
I begin thinking in ways that would have never come to mind before had my daughter never been born into this world. There was not only the fact that I was a mother now that changed me but also the fact that I was the mother of an impressionable young girl was what affected me in a way that I never though possible. I wanted her to be everything that was good and right about me and none of what was wrong with me. I decided that the best way to teach her these things was to lead by example, and with a little hope and a lot a prayers she would follow. I needed to be the mother that my child could be proud of.
Nobody’s perfect and I sure do have a long way to go before I can even be close to being where I want to be in life. I am still learning. Learning new things everyday. Changing for the better a little everyday is my goal. To always be that person, striving to be the best mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend and student that I can possibly be. That’s who I am. I would never be the person that I am today if I had not received an award so great as that of motherhood. Word do not express how thankful I am everyday when I see my daughter is growing and becoming a little lady.