This night

We set our alarm for 5 a.m. but awoke to water soaked sheets at 4:30 a.m.  You were making your way into this world and we were more than overjoyed.  No induction!  We were on our way.  

I would labor all morning while periodically glancing at the ring on my right hand, the pearl ring your Daddy gave me right after we settled in to the Labor and Delivery room.  You made your way gently into this world, breaking my water in stages.  And there was so much joy in that room as you made your way down.  So much joy.  

You arrived at 1:13 pm as I watched you from the mirror overhead, something I was too embarressed to do with your brother and sister.  I gasped with wonder at the miracle of it all.  At the first glance of your dark hair.  Dark hair!!!  She has dark hair like brother and sister!!! I saw your lips right away, all puckered in and kissable.  How grateful I am for witnessing the miracle of you emerging from me.  How thankful I am to have held you so tight against my flesh as inexplicable exhaustion swept through every molecule of my being.  There are no words for the weariness and disorientation of post-labor.  But you were right there in my arms, wailing as I sang.  Wailing as we prayed.  Wailing as I tried to nurse.  Luisa Ray Morlandt, we could not have been more joyful amongst the cries.  

I'm not sure if you will read this some day or if I will read it to you.  I'm not sure if you will scroll down the screen with your fingertips or your eyes.  But this I know for sure, I love you baby girl.  You are most wanted.  Most cherished.  Most loved.  You are God's gift to our family.  And two years later.  Rett Syndrome later.  No steady walking later.  Lost your speech later.  I wouldn't change a thing.  You are my girl.  Most wanted.  Most cherished.  Most loved.