Since I was pregnant, I began to imagine the great meeting with my baby. I thought I could control the pain as I had done many times in the past with different kind of pains that had been told me were assimilated to the dreaded labor pains. That's why I was so confident; in fact, I thought that somehow I would be able to handle it. I did my pilates exercises, I went for lots of walks, I ate healthy; in short, I did everything "I had to do" to reach as perfect as I needed to that blind date with my offspring.
To my delight, everything was coming up perfect: the weight of my baby, its location, even my own weight was ideal! I only had to wait until the big day has come and live that desired meeting like how many times I had imagined it: bidding, giving life to my daughter, bringing her into this world with my own strength, giving her her first breath after a sweet pat on her back. Yes, i have to admit it: that was my movie. And I was happy thinking that this was the way it would be like. Every day I talked to my princess and said "you do not worry, my pinky, everything it's gonna be fine. Mama will do all the hard work, you just position yourself well, I'll do the rest. And we'll be meeting sooner as you can imagine". After that, I stroked my belly, sometimes receiving a knowing kick, full of tranquility that only a mother can transmit with the the sound of her own voice.
And finally the day came by. You know, everything comes once in life. And so came the pain (God, what pain!) and the fear, the terror to that labor process that had triggered and wich I couldn't be able to restrain, much less I couldn't be able to handle it in the way I would had intended.
I knew (still not sure how) that something was going wrong. The pains weren't increasing, they were located in the area of my right kidney. It was as if someone had stuck a sharp knife, the kind cooks use to chop, or those which you can see in thrillers as a lethal weapon. And I felt like someone turned the knife into my body without stopping. It is the most graphic description I can make to describe the pain I felt then. But why the pain didn't progress? Why was located there? Why did I have some relief putting some heat in there or lying down sideways? Definitely something was going wrong, I could sensed it.
Anyway, it's just life. There was was no kitchen knife and no one was torturing me. That pain came from my baby, my poor baby who was trying to do what I had asked her to: she was trying to placed herself in the birth canal. But her size and mine size could not agree and even if she tried, my princess couldn't placed herself. She was only trying to fulfill my desires. Oh, my goodness, I feel so guilty until now about that.
The emergency c-section was the endind of such a beautiful process that left me really sad. As I prepared for surgery, tears ran down my cheeks as a marathon. I felt the loss of not having done my part, which I had just promised to my daughter in so many times before.
I was devastated, tired, exhausted. I needed a nap, but there was no time to relax. It was time for our awaited meeting !!! And I wasn't ready!
When I finally saw her, when finally her face touched mine and her improvised crying stopped a few seconds when found our scents together, so close and so familiar, we both knew that the trip was over, but at the same time that trip was just begining. In fact, there was no turning back time to be sad. That ideal, perfect, electrifying and full love had invaded the operating room and while I was still in shock, it was inevitable to give her my first tears of joy, though I most wanted to hug her at that moment. Impossible, among so many cables and needles. The heartbreaking cry was pounding on the walls for a while, as she walked away in her daddy's sweet hug, a dad who couldn't get out of wonder and joy, all those feelings contained in a look so full of emotions and in a such wide smile.
And there I was, waiting the doctors to close for me that chapter of my life, trying to understand that finally was the time to exercise that word so cute and wich today identifies me: mom.
I waited quietly in the room, with a tinge of sadness, guilt and joy. All together, scrambled through my blood and rinsing in my tears. But there she was and I forgot everything. We recognized each other immediately and we joined in the cutest hug ever. She clung to me and we didn't need any instructions. We both knew how to do it and we sat in silence, enjoying the process of breastfeeding for the first time. It was wonderful.
It is until this day that I would have wanted things to be different. But I try not to blame myself anymore. I try to focus on being the best mom to my daughter, to give her everything she needs. I want her to leftover kisses for later, i want her to have hugs to give and smiles to share. And I wish for her that the tears dry quickly, in mom's lap.
And here we are, 13 months after that magical night where casual and paradoxically in Argentina is celebrated the independence day. It means the ability to choose, the ability to act freely ... I couldn't choose how to bring her into the world, I was not free to do so, but I was free to choose you, my baby, even before knowing you were inside me. I looked up for her with all my heart and I found her. And that's my princess, a little bit of me that encloses all the happiness that surrounds me today and I never thought I would experience. A love so deep, so lit inside, so magical, so perfect, so pure. A love that just can't be compare. To anything.
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