Today is Eva’s first birthday! At 7:17 p.m. PST.
As we drove to the hospital that morning I remember a gorgeous sunrise near Nisqually. Confirmation that all was going to go well. We were a half-hour late because I got my times wrong, maybe I was nervous? Walking into the hospital that day felt like walking into a white cloud of the unknown, as we had no idea what would happen with Eva.
The escort took us to labor and delivery saying, “I just love when I get to walk people to happy events.” But the truth was we didn’t know if this event was going to end happily.
The induction started at ten, with time to enjoy a breakfast sandwich and chatting with the nurse. By four o’clock when I went to order dinner, getting all the meals I could, things changed quickly. I had been standing up, rocking Eva to music and we transitioned in a hurry.
Thankfully my mom and Max drove up to the hospital before it got dark, but my dear doula couldn’t make it before birth when I ended up going from a 3 to a 10 in FORTY minutes. Ouch! We learned even with induction I birth my babies fast.
That’s when things got comical, as Joe rushed my mom and Max to a waiting room because I didn’t want my boy to worry about my pain. Joe came back and I told him the baby was coming and to get someone NOW.
I don’t even know how much I pushed, it’s all a blur, but that tiny baby came shooting out and they held her up in the air. That’s the visual I replay in my mind. She was ALIVE. She was alert. She was going to spend some time with us.
I always say Eva’s daddy thought a miracle happened with how full of life our little girl was. Max exclaimed: “She can move!” What a gift. It was magic, and restored our hearts a little having it be so “normal.” The hospital let us lead the way, and we let Eva lead us.
They play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” after each birth. As I laid there in labor that day and heard her song over and over, I prayed we would get to hear it for Eva. Thankfully big brother Max got to push the button and play our Twinkle Star’s song as we were wheeled to the post-delivery room.
I pretty much despise the world perfect at this point in time, but that’s what Eva’s birth was—absolutely perfect in every way. Her brother and grandma were with us. She stared at her family for the first four hours. She was so strong and alert. She even nursed, even though she had a hard time sucking after that night. My doula, Holly, arrived and sat on the floor with Max making bracelets for himself and his new baby sister, among other things—grateful for her love and friendship. My talented friend, Laurie, rushed to snap photos of us that night after landing at the airport. They are such a treasure, as they capture all the magic that was that night.
Today, on Eva’s birthday, we hold on to her beauty and attempt to shed the sadness, like the dead leaves that are falling off the trees outside the only place she lived, her hospital room. I’m going to feel close to her today by going to Tacoma with my mom and Max to visit places that remind me of our time with her. I take comfort in the knowledge that our time is not up because she is always near—there’s not question about that.
We LOVE you Eva LeeAnn Larson, thank you for choosing us, and gifting us with deep life lessons. I’m a different person because of your life. Eternal blessings, my precious daughter. Love, Mom. Xoxoxo