When I first saw them, weeks after giving birth, I wanted to cry a little bit. Where is the normally bright-eyed girl? Who is the tired, puffy hag holding my baby? The worst part was that people saw me while I looked like death warmed over, and those people said things like, “You look great!”
And I believed them.
I don’t think my mom knew what I was thinking (because who experiences the miracle of giving birth to a healthy child and whines out loud that the lighting is bad?), but she made a comment while in the hospital that stuck with me. She said, “You’ll love these pictures one day.”
I didn’t believe her at the time. I was pretty sure that I would never want to see these pictures again. Glad we had them, but if they could get lost in the abyss that is Mark’s Dropbox that would be great.
But I’m starting to believe her. A little bit.
I love that Mark was there to take pictures before the party got started. I love that he was wise enough to only take one.
I love that blurry smile. I love that the feeling of complete and unconditional love for Otis the minute I laid eyes on him wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
I love how in this picture I have absolutely no clue how much love and laughter was truly born that day, or how much more I could fall in love with that guy next to me. I also love that the swelling does go down. A little bit.
I won’t ever hear “You don’t even look like you gave birth!”, but you know what? That’s ok because maybe looking like a supermodel after labor is a little overrated anyways*.
*Things I probably won’t really believe until Otis’s 30th birthday.