In 46 years, you can rack up a LOT of beginnings.
There's the grandmama of them all...being born, of course. Then comes first smile, first step, first word, first day of school all those childhood milestones.
One first I remember is the first time I saw my first child. My blood pressure had skyrocketed during delivery and they gave me an epidural. My bp reading then tanked; the lowest I saw was 70/40, and hubby says it went even lower. After the delivery, I looked like the Michelin man...but I digress. :) Let's just say I was "out of it", and DS had to be taken to the nursery and put on oxygen for a short while.
As I had been induced, I was not allowed out of bed for 24 hours. I was planning my escape - sneaking out of my room, dragging the IV pole along with me. They must've sensed my frustration and put me in a room near the nurses' station. Drat! Too close to the warden's office to make a break for it.
DH brought me a Polaroid picture of our son. I was worried. He looked tiny, bruised (they had used forceps), and had all sorts of wires and tubes hooked up to his little 5 pound 9 ounce frame. And he had a pronounced conehead. I was desperate to hold him in my arms.
The next day, they wheeled his bassinet into my room (as I still had not been released to get out of bed). I was like...this is so COOL! But then, something happened that scared me. The nurse LEFT THE ROOM!!! And left me alone with this tiny little alien that had inhabited my body for a little over 8 months!
I had read the books and articles, and gathered dozens of opinions (some sought, some not) from friends and relatives), but at that precise moment, I could not remember a shred of it to save my live.
Gingerly, I put my feet on the floor and walked over to the bassinet. Little by little, more of my son appeared. He looked a little better than the day before - less bruised, more rosy. Still had that conehead, though. And I wondered .....
"WHAT DO I DO NOW????"