Rose Estherina Lane

She's here.  I'm a mother to a beautiful daughter.  And my life will never be the same again...



Rose Estherina Lane
February 14th, 2011
6 lbs, 13 ounces

 This photograph means more to me than I could ever explain.  It was taken after Rose was born and was the first glimpse that I had of my sweet girl's face. 

When Rose was born, she slipped out of me in all of her glory, and her warm little body was placed on my stomach.  My husband told looked right into my eyes and told me, "It's a girl!  We have a little girl!"  And I was so surprised.  I cried so many tears of joy and happiness.  I knew it was a girl, it just felt like it the entire time.  I kept saying, "Oh my sweet Rose... you are finally here with us."  When I felt the warmth of her skin and her slippery little body on mine, I felt a shift in my entire being.  It was instinctual and overwhelming... the love that poured out of every fiber of my being to love this little person. 

When I went to reach for her, she suddenly was taken from me.  I heard no cry and never got to see her face.  Suddenly, through my tears, I could see the medical staff across the room working fervently on her to get her lungs to breathe.  She had inhaled meuconium on her way out, which is somewhat common but also incredibly dangerous.  I kept asking, "Is my baby girl okay?  Is she okay?"  Everyone kept trying to assure me that she would be fine. 

Brian left my side to be with her.  I kept making frantic eye contact with him, hoping his strength could fix it and save her.  He kept telling me our girl was okay.  Out of the blue, I heard a giant roar of a cry... the cry that I would come to know and love.  A sigh of relief was all that I could feel.  I watched helplessly as she was whisked out of the room and away from my arms, all of the bright lights and hands touching and prying at her little body.  Brian was so torn as whether to stay with me or to go... and I told him to go and be with our little girl.  I could take care of myself. 

In the meantime, I stayed in the room alone... tears streaming down my face and an excruciating ache in my heart that I could not bear.  Through the panic, I grabbed the hand of one of the nurses and asked her to take my camera of the windowsill.  "Please take a picture of my daughter.  I want to see her beautiful face.  I haven't seen her."  And she did. 

That is the picture that came back to my room where I lay, broken and bruised, longing to hold my little girl.  When I saw the photo, I knew she would be alright.  I couldn't believe how much she looked like me.  Her eyes, so wide open.  She felt so familiar to me, like I had seen her before.  The nurse kept saying how gorgeous she was and how alert.  "She's going to be fine.  She was crying and making a fuss.  She's fighting and pushing with her hands... this little one is a spitfire!" 

The first time I saw Rose with my own eyes, she was in an incubator.  She looked so small and helpless with tubes coming out of her little body in all different directions.  I held her hand and when I spoke to her, she turned her head in the direction of my voice.  Her little fingers held on to me so tightly, I sobbed with a mixture of relief and terror.  This little one belonged in my arms. 

After six long days in the NICU, Rose fought and got better and stronger every day.  We finally brought her home on February 20th, a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  Every day since then has been a gift.  The light she has brought to our lives is unmistakable and something that I never thought I could experience.  True and utter fulfillment.  I've never felt such true and honest love... for my soulmate that I have in my husband and for the incredible daughter that we created together.