A week ago today, I was helpless as Hannah endured the pain that signalled the beginning of her labour. For hours, we were in disbelief, all of the advice we had received hadn’t accounted for any of what we – she – was going through. “You’ll know,” they all said. We certainly didn’t. Finally, at around three in the morning, I drove us to the hospital. We were admitted and then moved from triage to the labour and delivery ward around eight.
Not 24 hours later, Emi Alnoor Roblin-Gulamhusein was born. A long name, maybe, but one she’ll carry for a long time.
Since then, it’s been a mix of poor, interrupted sleep, lots of important information, opinions and advice, and one minor scare. The dirty diapers and baby bottles, something I was concerned about having in place prior to her birth are the easy parts. A week later, I still feel somewhat helpless, not because anyone is in pain, but because I’m still learning what I need to do.
Slowly, it’ll all come together. Sleep, precious as it is, may one day return to full form. Soon, my parents tell me, I’ll miss these days. For now, I just want to enjoy every moment of them.
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