A couple days after L was born, one of our nurses came in to check her vitals. Her temperature was taken; it was perfect. Her heart was checked; it was perfect. Her breathing was monitored; it was irregular. Amazingly, I stayed calm. I was confident we were in good hands, and I had absolutely nothing to worry about. They took her to the nursery to run some tests and Joe went with her while I stayed behind in our room. Having recently come out of surgery, I didn't feel physically ready to tag along with them. After an hour of them being gone, I started to become concerned. After two hours, I began to panic and my confidence was dwindling. Finally they came back with news that her breathing could not be regulated and she would have to go back for more tests. This time, I was going along with them no matter how much pain I was in. We sat in the nursery and watched as our tiny girl had blood drawn and x-rays taken. She handled it all like a champ while I fell apart at the seams. After another couple hours, her breathing finally came down to a normal pace and was stabilized. Her doctor attributed the irregularity to her larger birth weight and informed us that it was really nothing to worry about. I broke down and began to cry the biggest cry of relief. As we left the nursery to take her back to our room, our nurse turned to me and said, "It's scary loving someone so much, isn't it?". That simple little statement shook me to my core and has echoed in my mind ever since.
Jump to this morning. I woke up to L laying next to me, wide awake and staring right at me. Usually, she wakes me up, screaming, needing to be fed or have her diaper changed, so as you can imagine, I was pleasantly surprised. I wished her a good morning and her face instantly lit up with an ear to ear grin. She's been smiling a lot this past week. And not those newborn smiles that babies have no control of, but real genuine smiles. She smiles when Joe comes into the living room to greet us each morning. She smiles when I face her lounger toward the window so she can spend some time looking at the trees. She looks up and smiles at me every night when I change her into her pajamas and wrap her in a tight swaddle. They are the sweetest, most rewarding smiles that have brought my love for her to a whole new level. I've fallen, and I've fallen HARD. And unlike what that nurse said, it's not scary... it's frightening.