Meet my daughter, Emmaline Rose, my most precious gift.

She is sound asleep on my chest, her newborn skin touching mine. As I lie here with my three week old infant, I try to relish this moment.  I know this moment is temporary and I want to be present. She won’t always be so small.. so helpless, but for the moment it’s hard to imagine she will ever be anything other than she is right now.

Perfect, quiet, calm- my heaven on Earth. 

my infant daughter

Becoming a Mother overnight

I look into her calm attentive eyes & I see the unspoken promises within.  When she smiles I am overwhelmed with emotion; I’m eager for the day when these grins are just for me. I love everything about her: from her tiny fingers to her tiny toes, to the adorable squeaks & grunts she makes when she tries to communicate.

I can’t believe that she is real, that she is my daughter..

My body grew this perfect baby girl and I am finally a mother. She was part of me as I carried her for the last forty weeks.  My darling girl, Emmaline Rose was born on the Ides of March, and my life has irrevocably changed.  I must live my life as her example- doing hard things because they are the right things. Being her mother will define my life in new profound ways.

There’s no turning back.  I am responsible for her life for the rest of mine and I would walk to the ends of the Earth to make her happy. For now, she’s a happy child- content when her eyes lock with mine. Endlessly entertained by a helium balloon clipped to her sleeve.

When the time came to push, I sat up, gritted my teeth and bared down will all my might. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived- quietly she took in her surroundings as the midwife laid her on my chest. The clock on the wall read 5:05. My tiny 6.5 pound little girl looked up at me for the first time and a sense of peace washed over me. 

(I do wonder if there is a significance to all of those fives?!)

As I rock my daughter, I am reminded of a poem that hung on the wall of my childhood home.  I once read this poem every week while dusting the living room.  Yet I was perplexed by the ending? The last line… ‘babies don’t keep’ – it didn’t make sense. 

But today, as I watch my infant sleep as I note the infinite changes happening daily, I finally get it.

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait ’til tomorrow,

For babies grow up we’ve learned to our sorrow. 

So quite down cobwebs, dust go to sleep,

I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

my daughter
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Circle portrait of Adrienne Maples for verification purposes.

Adrienne Maples

 

Kansas City photographer, Adrienne Maples, weaves together powerful narratives with her photographs to create mood and evoke emotion.

 

She a board member of AIGA and KCAC. As a committee member of KCDW, she organized the 2024 talks: The A.I. Asset, Creator as Curator.

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About

the Author

Adrienne Maples

 

Kansas City commercial photographer, Adrienne Maples, weaves together powerful narratives with her photographs to create mood and evoke emotion.

 

She's an AI enthusiast, passionate about teaching others how to use technology responsibly for the greater good. Known for her 'spunk & pizazz', she directs & curates images to transform mediocrity into the extraordinary.

 

She a board member of AIGA and KCAC. As a committee member of KCDW, she organized the 2024 talks: The A.I. Asset, Creator as Curator.

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*bw photo by Sara Brennen-Harrell

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