The first was to go home to my own house and my own bed, where my mama and my husband would take care of me and my new baby. Where I could just be with my daughter and inhale her. Where, I felt then and always have since, I never should have left in the first place.
The second was to paint my daughter's tiny toe nails pink! I don't know why this urge overtook me. Maybe it was because in the hustle and bustle of a hospital, I felt like the color of her toe nails was one of the few things I could control. At any rate I hadn't thought to pack any nail polish, so it would just have to wait.
A few weeks later, when I had recovered enough to rummage through my make-up bag, I once again set out to paint those piggies. I waited until she was asleep so she wouldn't wiggle away from me and end up with a pink foot. I slowly and carefully painted the first two toes. Then I smelled that familiar nail polish smell and realized that my baby was breathing it too! I rushed her from the room and opened a window. I hurriedly painted the rest of her toes, then carried the still sleeping baby to the door, opened it wide, and sighed a breath of relief.
|Bunny~4 months old|
|Birdie~2.5 months old|