Today is not at all how I envisioned celebrating your golden birthday. The first celebration of your life earth-side.
I'm sitting on the deck watching you play while attempting to get some work done and listening for the oven to beep because your cake is inside. We've all been quarantined for about three weeks now. The time has been precious.
I envisioned a beautiful garden themed birthday party with close friends and family attempting to hold you. You're a mama's girl through and through. You have taught me so much in our almost two years together. Your time in my belly was just as special to me as your time on this side of my skin. The journey of you has taught me so much.
A week after finding out about you, we whisked our family off to a trip to Alaska. We hiked mountains and drank coffee with you in my belly.
As soon as we returned, your dad enlisted in the National Guard. His first commanding officer (me) required that he return before your birth. He wouldn't have it any other way.
We found out you were a girl at 12 weeks so we could name you before he left. Little did we know the name we would choose would have a special meaning to me, as I carried you alone.
Exactly one week after your dad left, I had my anatomy scan. I walked in excited to see your profile and learn about all the ways you had been growing. Halfway through the anatomy scan the technician stopped and went to get the doctor. He came back and told me that you had a single umbilical artery. He gave me the worst case scenario and then asked if I had questions. The words "she looks good for the most part" and "come back in four weeks so we can make sure her heart developed" and "don't look this up on the internet" rang through my head as I did the only thing I new how to do... drive to work. I walked in the building with my sunglasses on so no one could see my tear stained face. Did I need to make the emergency call to your dad? Do I even tell him? How did that go south so quickly?
So many kind-hearted people gave their advice. Some spoke to me the way John would do comfort me. Others told me, "I needed to make an informed decision."
My informed decision, the innermost part of my being, was you were and are my baby and nothing would or could ever change that. I would always choose you regardless of the pain. That's when motherhood starts for me. In the womb. Consistently choosing your needs (and your sister's) over mine.
The rest of the week was a blur. I told those I came into contact with everyday, but didn't even tell most of the family. I didn't want questions.
One day I remembered how much I believe in the power of names. Your dad and I chose Cora because I wanted Cori, but he wanted something softer. It was the only name we could agree on before our time together was up and I dropped him off to be shipped out and we would have little to no communication for the next few months. I opened my laptop and searched "meaning of Cora".... the meaning was heart. The very thing the doctor "wasn't sure would develop properly based on the anatomy scan results." I knew then your heart would be fine. It would be healthy and strong. This was such a little way in which God spoke so clearly his sovereignty over you.
I chose then, to be positively open about what was happening. I didn't think about stillbirth or the organs that may or may not grow. God gave me peace.
The next few months went by quickly as I managed operating as a single, working mom waiting for those phone calls that would sometimes come, and sometimes not come. I wrote to your dad daily sharing every little thing that would happen with you. We don't keep secrets. I learned to practice gratitude daily, and leaned heavily into my tribe. I made a birth plan that involved your aunties in case you came early.
Then came the news about the maternity law in our state. You were due on March 22, 2019 and our maternity leave law was to take effect on April 1, 2019. If I made it to April 1st and 12:00am, I could have almost 6 months home with you. If I had you on March 31st at 11:59pm, I would not. Not making it to April first would be extremely stressful. My heart wanted nothing more than a blissful maternity leave with my babies. My soul needed time for our family to grow together and adjust to being a family of four. These thoughts and logistics would keep me up at night.
In the middle of the night I heard a still small voice tell my heart...
"Consider the lilies of the field..."
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life...."
If God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?
Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows what you need.
"But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."
“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."
~From Matthew 6:25-34
From that night on, I no longer stressed about my due date.
I knew that I would deliver you on April 1st. I also knew that God had allowed you to have SUA so that you would grow slower and I would be able to carry you for an extra 10 days, almost two weeks over my due date. I also knew he arranged this so your dad would be back in time and we could readjust to being a family of three before becoming a family of four.
God came through.
We made it.
I went into labor at 4 in the morning on April 1st. You were the first baby in our school
district, second in our state to be born under the new maternity leave law.
Your first breath earth-side was a deep breath out for me. Conformation that God cares and God sees. After all, he is the "God who sees me."
The midwife, nurses, and nursing students were blown away and extremely excited at the sight of your umbilical cord. They were astonished at your growth.
All 7 pounds, 10 ounces and 20.5" of perfection.
Happy Birthday my sweet girl.
Mommy loves you to the moon and back.
Newborn photos: Shane Appel Photography
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