more than a bit exciting

Twenty-nine years ago about now, they said, okay, we're keeping you. And just 11 hours or so later, I met my first baby.

He was a beautiful bluish-gray color--it was quite an entrance really. Five minutes later and a gurgling cry and they whisked him off to the neonatal intensive care for a thorough working-over.

The next time I saw him, three hours later on the way to my room, he was in his daddy's arms, far across the room, through a window. My tiny little boy and his big daddy.

The nurses told me that he was wide awake, looking around with his big baby eyes, taking it all in. A sure sign of intelligence.

The next time I remember seeing him was the next morning, although it may have been that night or two days later--I was a bit of a mess too--but he was pink and healthy.

I will always remember the first time we spent alone together--five days later. We were home, on the bed in my room, the Army-Navy football game was on the TV, and he needed a diaper change. It was the first time I'd undressed him and cleaned him and diapered and swaddled him.

As I looked at him, that tiny little being, I was struck by the most overwhelming, deepest feeling of love--real, consuming all over love for another that I'd ever experienced. Before that moment, I'd had no idea what it would feel like to be a mother.

What an amazing journey. What a blessing.

Happy day, dear boy of mine.