Day Nineteen

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Day Nineteen: write about your first love.

I haven’t written in several weeks. Being a high school special education teacher during the months of March, April, and May mean that I have very limited time to write for fun. Most of my spare time is consumed with writing transition plans or updating progress reports, grades, and percentages. All the fun stuff that persuades people to become teachers. HA.

Today’s prompt is actually one I’ve avoided as well. On top of not having much extra time, I haven’t really been sure what I would even say about my “first love.” I mean, who was my first love, anyway? I could say that my parents were the first people I truly loved as a small child. I could even say that my dog named Bonnie was the first pet I ever really loved. Or I could write about the boy who swept me off my feet at age 16 when I thought puppy love was all we needed.

Instead I want to write about my daughter. My girl. My tiny, sassy, energetic, funny, baby girl. When Morgan was born, my husband started referring to her as Baby Girl and it has just kind of stuck. She’s not much of a baby anymore, more of a toddler really, but Baby Girl is what she is called a lot of the time. My parents call her Mo and her friend, Finley, calls her Morgy. Jaden and Karlee call her Baby Morgan, and I’m sure that when Morgan is 10 years old, they will still call her Baby Morgan.

I’ve been fortunate in that I was raised by parents who loved me immensely and I never wondered for a second if they didn’t. I’ve always wanted to a be a mother myself, but had no idea the love that I would feel when I held her in my arms for the first time. When I found out that I was pregnant, I instantly had this feeling of love for the tiny human growing inside me. I remember the doctor asking if I wanted to do any testing to see if the baby had Down’s syndrome and I said no. She asked me why and I told her that it didn’t matter to me; I loved this baby no matter what. I can’t describe how it felt to find out I was pregnant other than it felt like I had loved this little person my entire life. I already knew that no matter what, there was nothing that would make me not love him or her.

When I went in to have Morgan, I pushed for several hours before having an emergency C-section. I was totally out for the entire surgery and I don’t remember any of the moments right after her delivery. This makes me sad to think of, but I know that the doctors were doing whatever it took to keep me and Morgan alive and healthy. When I got back to the room and was finally waking up, the nurse handed Morgan to me. She laid her on my bare chest so that both our skin was touching. There will never be adequate words to describe how I felt in that moment. Maybe it was the drugs; maybe it was a natural high that comes only from a maternal bond. Either way, I had never felt that way in my entire life. I loved this baby girl so much. She was mine. My little girl. The girl that would grow up to be my best friend. The girl that might be super annoyed by me in high school, but would know that I was her biggest fan and supporter. My girl.

As this year and five months have flown by, my love for has only grown deeper. Sometimes I look at her and think how could I be so lucky to be her momma. When she wakes up in the morning, she yells “MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA” from her room until I go in to get her. And she’s always smiling. I think about how much I love her and how I never knew love like this until I became a mom. I think about how there is literally nothing in this world that would make me not love her. NOTHING. Then I think about how God loves me in that same way. I mean, that right there is love beyond measure. There’s nothing I could do that would make him turn his back on me.

I love you, Baby Girl. You are my whole world. You are my first love. Forever.

Love, Momma

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