The first time I held my son, a few hours after his birth.
Though the day I gave birth to my first child remains hazy in my memory, one moment sticks out with picture-perfect clarity:
I had finally made it to my “regular” room after 12 hours of labor, baby’s erratic heart rate, a gown change because of blood ever-y-where, and an emergency c-section and recovery. I won’t go into the details (because this entire post is about not going into the details), but I had an “out of body” experience—not because I was dying, but because I was so traumatized my psyche just mentally checked out when things got super scary. It was bad. I am beyond thankful that my son and I survived it, and that I don’t remember a lot of it.