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     It was a Thursday when I experienced unconditional love for the first time in my adult life. This was the day I met my daughter, Mary: June 16th, 2011. 

     Being pregnant for the first time at thirty felt like strapping into a rollercoaster I hadn't read the safety manual for. The doctors stamped me as "high risk" like a fragile package, thanks to my status as a Down Syndrome carrier, so they had to see me weekly from six months on. Just when I thought pregnancy couldn't get more nerve-wracking, my body decided to start contractions at five months because I was constantly dehydrated. Bed rest because my new normal.        Every day was a game of chicken with my uterus. Would today be the day my water broke? Would she come early? Would she be okay? Every night, I let out a tiny breath of relief--we had made it one more day.

     By the time my weekly ObGyn appointment rolled around, I could barely waddle up the stairs, let alone stand up straight. The dull ache in my lower back turned into a neon sign flashing, " THIS IS NOT A DRILL." Sure enough, the doctor took one look at me and said, "You're five centimeters dilated--today's the day!"

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- I Am Because You Were          

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