A decade of unconditional love
Celebrating my daughter's milestone and reflecting on the birth story that shaped our beginning
My daughter is 10 today! đ©·
She moves through the world with curiosity. She still reads with her whole body, curling into corners with books, not quite ready to let go of the stories she loves. (Currently, theyâre all about food and belonging). She pouts in the mornings and says âgood nightâ when I try to wake her up. She begrudgingly takes Otto, our dog, out when itâs drizzling yet doesnât lack the confidence to command a 100lb Rottie.
This is who she is at 10. Observant and genuinely kind, funny in ways she doesnât realize yet.
Every birthday carries layers and Iâve been thinking about what this day holds.
For her, itâs cake and friends and being old enough for things she wasnât old enough for yesterday. For me, itâs all of that and something elseâthe private weight of remembering how close we came to not having these years together.
Ten years ago, I had a water birth. What was a peaceful delivery became complicated when I experienced postpartum hemorrhage that required emergency intervention. Itâs not a story I shared publicly until years later, after Serena Williams opened up about her own childbirth complications. Her honesty gave me permission to be honest about mine.
I wrote about what happened for The Everymom. Hereâs part of that story:
It is a condition that can occur despite a patient not showing any risk factors throughout her pregnancy â like me. [âŠ]
After reading multiple reports, I realized the hospital staff assigned to me were not equipped to manage such a condition. They were not prepared for such an incidence and were slow in recognizing the symptoms and responding to the situation. Similar to many women in developing countries who have no access to qualified healthcare, this couldâve been fatal if it werenât for the team of four specialists (who were called in) to make sure I survived.
Birthdays hold more than one story. Theyâre celebration days and survival days. They mark who our children are becoming and who we had to become to bring them here. What I wish someone had told me is that motherhood is complex. Itâs sold to us as magical, and it is. But itâs also harder than anyone prepared me for. The gap between expectation and reality can be disorienting.
For years, I didnât talk about what happened. I didnât want to seem ungrateful. I didnât want my daughterâs birth story to be defined by my trauma. But the most meaningful stories often hold more than one emotion. Joy and fear can exist in the same moment. I also think birthdays represent rebirth for many mothers. Each year our children mark a milestone, weâre quietly marking our ownâthe day we survived and became someone new.
Ten years later, Iâm grateful my daughter is healthy and thriving, and for every ordinary moment weâve had since. She doesnât know most of this yet. One day, maybe Iâll tell her. For now, she knows today is about her. Cake, K-pop, Taylor Swift, and sleepovers.
đ©· Happy birthday to my girl. Iâm so glad weâre both here.
As always, Iâm grateful for your support.
x Nina
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