When we arrived home from the hospital, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Well rested and full of life. Energy for days. That first night taking care of our precious baby girl was a breeze. One of the easiest things I've ever done.
Truth is, I don't remember a lot of that first night. I had to have a c-section so I was on more pain meds than Rush Limbaugh. And although I was beyond elated, I was also beyond sedated.
So I actually had to ask my husband how that first night went. Because between my shoddy pre and post preggo memory and my illegible journal entries, I wasn't so sure!
According to the hubs, we pulled an all-nighter. We were high on adrenaline (him) and drugs (me) and full of fear.
Then we left the care of a twenty-four hour nursing staff only to arrive home scared out of our minds.
Could we really take care of this seven-pound little life?
We had no instruction manual. Just our guts. And we almost too scared to trust them.
Our night looked something like this:
Dad brought baby to mom.
Mom and dad checked umpteen times to make sure she was breathing.
It was hard.
It was amazing.
It was nerve wracking.
It was beautiful.
It was scary.
It was glorious.
It was an adventure.
And the next morning, we started the process all over again... with just a little more confidence and a lot more love than we knew we could ever feel.