An Isla Post
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There is a song from the nineties called " I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You." While the song itself was meant to be between two lovers, it perfectly describes how I have felt with both of my girls. I knew before their first breaths that I loved them. It didn't matter that I hadn't seen their faces or touched their soft baby skin-it didn't matter if they looked like me, or if we didn't relate on any level-I knew that I loved them and that just like I knew and loved them, that they knew me.
The day Isla was born, I remember being exhausted both physically and emotionally. Yet there was this excitement that electrified that room and kept me awake when I entertained the thought that today might be the day I'd actually get to hold her for the first time. When they said that I was on the verge, but not quite there yet, and they'd monitor me to see if I progressed, I waited till they left the room. I probably should have slept or cried, but instead I resorted to jumping jacks because my desire to meet her outweighed how tired and uncomfortable I was.
Hours later, when the moment arrived for them to put her on my chest and for me to hold her in my arms, I had trouble catching my breath. The shaking ensued, as it normally does, but even then-all I could see-all I could think-was of her. Finally. But it wasn't like meeting her for the first time-it was that engulfing feeling of familiarity; of reassuring, comforting, soft love. With Addy, it was a burst-like she was accessing a part of my heart I never had before, with so many new and beautiful possibilities. But with Isla, it was like their was a chamber of that part that had always existed and belonged to her-like it had her name on it. It was soft and gentle and powerful and full and filled every part of me, just in a different way.
To this day, I remember the baited breath, and the shaking body-and yet the instant steadiness and reassurance that overtook those when I held her. Over and over again, all I kept saying was "I missed you.: People say welcome to the world, and other beautiful true sentiments-but with Isla, it was like she was always there. Like she was never not with me.
I suppose I am writing this right now because she is growing so fast. She is now 9 months, and like her sister, she is doing everything either right on time or early. She has been laughing, engaging and sitting for a few months now-and the crawling, and the cruising around furniture and perimeters started about two weeks ago-at this point I think she will be walking alone another two weeks from now. She is adventurous and [also like her sister] she likes to test her boundaries. But she also definitely has a comfort zone and likes to be cuddled, and kissed and loved on. She takes a while to warm up to people, but when she does, she is very generous with the smiles and other fun. Her sister is easily her best friend, and she loves Luke, Sam, Gma and Gpa and Lolo and Lola [and the rest of her family and friends.] She loves to play and cuddle with her Daddy, above all is still a Momma's girl, which I don't hate if I'm being honest haha. She is my sweetheart and I love her.
Sometimes I feel like all parents probably do-like time is slipping through my fingers, and I want it to slow down. But then I look at how much we all enjoy each new stage that she and her sister enter, and all the good and bad things that come with it and I know that it is as it should be. Still, I hope that this post will serve as another way to freeze the baby she is now and the life we have together in time. I knew I loved her before I met her, like the song says-and I know no matter how the years pass and where they take us, I will love her still. I'm glad I don't have to miss her anymore.
The day Isla was born, I remember being exhausted both physically and emotionally. Yet there was this excitement that electrified that room and kept me awake when I entertained the thought that today might be the day I'd actually get to hold her for the first time. When they said that I was on the verge, but not quite there yet, and they'd monitor me to see if I progressed, I waited till they left the room. I probably should have slept or cried, but instead I resorted to jumping jacks because my desire to meet her outweighed how tired and uncomfortable I was.
Hours later, when the moment arrived for them to put her on my chest and for me to hold her in my arms, I had trouble catching my breath. The shaking ensued, as it normally does, but even then-all I could see-all I could think-was of her. Finally. But it wasn't like meeting her for the first time-it was that engulfing feeling of familiarity; of reassuring, comforting, soft love. With Addy, it was a burst-like she was accessing a part of my heart I never had before, with so many new and beautiful possibilities. But with Isla, it was like their was a chamber of that part that had always existed and belonged to her-like it had her name on it. It was soft and gentle and powerful and full and filled every part of me, just in a different way.
To this day, I remember the baited breath, and the shaking body-and yet the instant steadiness and reassurance that overtook those when I held her. Over and over again, all I kept saying was "I missed you.: People say welcome to the world, and other beautiful true sentiments-but with Isla, it was like she was always there. Like she was never not with me.
I suppose I am writing this right now because she is growing so fast. She is now 9 months, and like her sister, she is doing everything either right on time or early. She has been laughing, engaging and sitting for a few months now-and the crawling, and the cruising around furniture and perimeters started about two weeks ago-at this point I think she will be walking alone another two weeks from now. She is adventurous and [also like her sister] she likes to test her boundaries. But she also definitely has a comfort zone and likes to be cuddled, and kissed and loved on. She takes a while to warm up to people, but when she does, she is very generous with the smiles and other fun. Her sister is easily her best friend, and she loves Luke, Sam, Gma and Gpa and Lolo and Lola [and the rest of her family and friends.] She loves to play and cuddle with her Daddy, above all is still a Momma's girl, which I don't hate if I'm being honest haha. She is my sweetheart and I love her.
Sometimes I feel like all parents probably do-like time is slipping through my fingers, and I want it to slow down. But then I look at how much we all enjoy each new stage that she and her sister enter, and all the good and bad things that come with it and I know that it is as it should be. Still, I hope that this post will serve as another way to freeze the baby she is now and the life we have together in time. I knew I loved her before I met her, like the song says-and I know no matter how the years pass and where they take us, I will love her still. I'm glad I don't have to miss her anymore.
