Then and Now

Spring was the perfect time to have a baby. Promises of life were peeking out everywhere. We drove to the Doctor's office for yet another pre-birth check-up amid the blossoms and brightness of mid-May. I was already four days over-due, but having a certain childish love of anticipation, I didn't feel too impatient.

The doctor threw some promising numbers around and, after a charming little "let's get things moving" procedure, promised us that the birth of our daughter was imminent.

We went home. Wes gave me a blessing. We walked down the hill to the duck pond and watched a parade of new baby ducklings.

Lucy was born the next morning.

I wish I could remember every detail of the experience. I only vaguely remember the pain. My journal tells me it was agonizing. I remember blessing the anesthesiologist and his magic needle. I remember being told to PUSH! and wondering if anything but my face was responding as I tried to comply. And then the nurse exclaimed, "look at those chubby cheeks!" and one glance at Wes's face told me loud and clear that he was looking at our baby girl.


I saw her too, for a few seconds, before the nurse whisked her to the side of the room. Wes followed and hovered. The doctor did his sewing quietly.

I shook as my mind relived the miracle. The gushing immersion of my water breaking. The sight of my baby, covered in blood. New life springing from pain. The symbolism was sharp.

A few tears found their way to the surface before Lucy was brought back to my arms and before I became preoccupied with the pressures of my sudden motherhood.

Three springs have come and gone since that miraculous day.

And now autumn approaches.

And it seems the perfect time to have a baby.

A time of welcomings and new beginnings.



(Our new freshmen neighbors move in today. Decor courtesy my cute new RA)

A time of anticipation.

Strong anticipation.