When I felt that initial flutter of my baby girl kicking inside me, a wave of emotions washed over me. I experienced the joy of new beginnings, the anxiety of what lay ahead, and the wonder of how the human body works. All those feelings I had been told to expect were there, but in that tranquil moment, I felt something deeper. That tiny kick served as a gentle prompt to consider stepping away from my role as your labor nurse to embrace motherhood. It suggested that my new journey as a mom might require me to relinquish the space you occupied in my life.
I let this thought linger, mulling it over during sleepless nights when my little one would dance in my belly. I envisioned what life could be like during the rare moments of stillness at work. I pondered whether the fulfillment I found in supporting your journey could be exchanged for the joy of being a mother. If they were not interchangeable, what did I truly desire?
The decision to part ways was not straightforward. I cherished my role in your story.
You arrived, breathless and filled with a mix of fear, joy, and anticipation. “How far apart are your contractions? Has your water broken? Is it a boy or a girl?” Every detail mattered, and no concern of yours was overlooked. As a first-time mother, you were understandably excited and anxious. The path to motherhood is not for the faint-hearted.
As we rushed to the operating room, I held your hand, my colleagues efficiently managing the situation around us. “Someone start a second IV. Did we notify the NNP? How long have the heart tones been down?” You were understandably frightened, and to be honest, I shared that apprehension. However, I had faith in your strength and knew we would get through this together. I stayed by your side, witnessing the moment of pure relief when your baby girl let out her first cry and a tear rolled down your cheek.
Then there was you, the confident mother of three. You understood the journey ahead, trusted your body, and knew your little boy would adore you. You didn’t seek reassurance because you had it within you. I quietly fulfilled my responsibilities, marveling at your strength. When you said it was time, I called for the doctor. You knew what you were doing, and I felt no need to affirm your instincts.
Many others came through those doors, each with their own stories. You allowed me to see the spectrum of human experience—the good, the bad, and the raw emotions. You let me teach you to breastfeed, swaddle, and change that first diaper. My hands cradled your newborn’s head, and my eyes were the first to see their beautiful face. When tears fell, it was my hand you held.
You invited me to witness some of the most significant moments of your lives, granting me a sense of purpose and privilege. You revealed the strength of a mother’s love, and in turn, you showed me that I could be strong too.
I hope you realize that while you are grateful for my support, I am equally thankful for the lessons and experiences you gifted me. Now, as I embrace my time at home with my daughter, I can confidently say that this experience of motherhood is unparalleled. Yet, I did not replace you with her; rather, I discovered that both of you enrich my life in different ways.
Life offers many joys. You were one of them, and my daughter is another. For now, I can’t have both worlds, and that is perfectly fine. I will miss you and continue to cherish my time with her.
I hope to return to you someday, welcomed with open arms. But if circumstances change, know this: You were one of the highlights of my journey. The births of your precious babies were among my greatest honors.
Thank you for allowing me into your lives. Thank you for sharing your stories and your little ones with me. It’s hard to say goodbye, but I will always carry the memories we created together.
Take care, mothers. Cherish every moment.
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