I know I still need to write my account of the night Mary Jane was born and we met.... in time, I'll put my thoughts to word... but until then....
Eight weeks ago.
John and I were exhausted. We were sitting in a hospital room. It was a shared room but no one else was sharing our space. However, we were told that we could not creep into the additional space in case it was needed.
So we huddled and shared an uncomfortable bed and chair. The room was very warm. And dry. And small. We were hungry. The breakfast of cold oatmeal and soggy toast was delicious to the two of us.
We were so tired because we did not sleep a wink. We really weren't sure what we were suppose to do with this little creature. We knew to love her but were we allowed to sleep? When she made noise, we both would jump. When she needed to feed, we both held her.
We had not slept since the night before but none of this mattered.
We had our little girl. Mary Jane was here. She was small and so reliant on big people. We held her and talked to her and told her how much we loved her. We still weren't quite sure who she was except we knew she was part of us.
The day was a long day. It was a tough day. Her birth grandparents and great grandparents came to visit Mary Jane. Seeing her was warming to them but the pain that they felt was palpable. They love Mary Jane just like we love Mary Jane.
There was nothing more important eight weeks ago than knowing our baby girl had found us.