Happy birthday baby girl ~ Welcome to the two-digit club and the world of blogging!

I wrote this last month but, eh, summer brain, totally forgot to publish it. Emily is no longer a new blogger, but the rest still applies.

Ten years ago, I was lying on a hospital bed, waiting for the nurses to finish cleaning her and bring her to us. I was on edge, waiting for the moment I dreaded and welcomed for nine months. After 27 excruciating hours of labor that culminated in a c-section, I felt like a truck had run me over, turned around, came back, ran me over a few more times, just to make sure there was no confusion about the pain. Tubes stuck everywhere, I had no idea I could feel so enormous (oh, but I was!) and feel all my insides gutted out at the same time.

Then they rolled her in.

Future blogger, new baby ~ Megan Blogs

She looked so peaceful, so content. She could care less about all the fuss, she just needed her beauty rest. We fawned over her, counting fingers and toes (yes, I’m that person), marveling at her tiny sleeping form. When she woke up, she did it crying, loud. And I mean LOUD, like opera-singer-breaking-glass loud.
No shit, the girl had some lungs on her!

But when she was placed in my arms, she stopped her wailing and looked me straight in the eyes.
All the way to my soul.
My heart melted under her steady gaze.

I had been so worried that morning with the complications, so eager to meet her. My sobs of relief (pain!) and happiness didn’t seem to affect her. She looked just happy to be there, to just be…  No, the pain didn’t magically disappear, but it didn’t, couldn’t, take anything away from that moment. And just as I didn’t really know what it was like to really be in love till I met Norman (the old poop), right then and there, I knew what I’d been waiting for, all my life: to love her like I never thought I’d be capable of loving. And with that, I suddenly became fully aware of the monstrosity of the task ahead: keeping her safe, raising her and raising her well.

The loves of my life, Norman the old poop and the future blogger at two ~ Megan Blogs

I didn’t think so at the time but the thrill of her being born did not even come close to the thrill of having her as my daughter. Even at the worst times, my undying love for her never wavers. Throughout the years, I screwed up a lot, I know, especially at the beginning. But I did a few things right, too. I must have, because she is the kindest, funniest, smartest, talented, sweetest thing… and some of it was my doing, I think. Admittedly, I can’t be objective about any of it.

Emily’s 10th birthday gift was something she’s been earnestly wanting for over a year: her own blog. Just like Mommy. This mommy is besides herself that she wants to grow up to be just like me. And thrilled beyond words that she seems to be a natural at it.

Happy birthday baby girl! Welcome to the two-digit club and the world of blogging. ~ Megan Blogs

Happy belated birthday, Emily, and welcome to the two-digit club! I can’t wait to see what else you create on xoxoemily.com, your little digital piece of the blogosphere.

~ XOXO Mommy

P.S. Since I wrote this, we tag-teamed on a conference invite as blogger buddies (the VidCon2013 conference: my recap, hers), and are going to a blogging conference together again, as blogging equals, in a couple of months. She’ll be on a panel, just like Mommy. I’m pretty excited about speaking about blogging but I’m supercalifragilisticexpialidociously excited about hearing her speak, about her excitement.

Me likey this new phase in our relationship :)

 

4 comments
susikleiman
susikleiman

So sweet! Happy belated Birthday to your beautiful Emily. Lots of luck in her blogging endeavors. :)

Donna
Donna

You done good Megan. :) She is AMAZING. And a great writer just like mommy!

Wishing you both a lifetime of memories ahead. Can't wait to hear all about the conference adventures in October...

- Donna

MeganBroutian
MeganBroutian moderator

@Donna Awww, thank you!!! With the whole tween/teen thing waiting to descend upon her, I figure she would at least have a place to vent and get it our of her system, if not fortify our relationship outside of the natural rhythm and confines of the mother-daughter paradigm. An ounce of prevention versus a pound of cure kinda thing :) We'll find out soon enough...

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