My Soul

Shyla, Indian derivative, meaning Goddess. Yes, that fits perfectly. It took us a year to get pregnant, Chad swore to me he only knew how to make boys and I swore to him that my body would not get pregnant until it was a girl.

From the moment her life began growing inside of me, I knew she would be perfect. I knew she would be my soul mate. I felt a connection to her like no other and we were instantly bonded. About four months after becoming pregnant, I found out that my dad was dieing of pancreatic cancer. He had six months to live. My mother had already passed when I was ten and so my dad was my life line. Taking on not only the mother and father role, but also being one of my soul mates and best friends. As my stomach grew, he grew weaker. I could see the pain in his eyes every time he looked at my ever swelling belly. It was almost unbearable. He would choke the words out in a whisper, "I'll hold on as long as I can". And he did, unfortunately Shyla's birth was still two weeks away. His last promise to me was that she would be delivered safe and sound.

As I stumbled through those two weeks until her arrival, it was her movement and light inside of me that kept me alive, kept me going and kept me sane. My labor for her was exhausting, 16.5 hours and 2.5 of that were pushing. By the time she arrived I had lost all of the weight I gained and I was so strained that I shook like a leaf for at least 24 hours. But true to his word, she was perfect. 8# 3oz of perfection. She had dark tufts of hair all over her body and the most beautiful blue eyes.

For the first year of her life I cried every time I looked at her, smelled her sweet baby smell (a mixture of baby powder and lavender) and every time I heard her cry, giggle or coo. She was my miracle, my light in a dark time. My saving grace.

There was one moment in particular, we were driving in the car, which she hated. For the first two years of her life she screamed like a banshee through every single car ride. This one time in particular she suddenly stopped crying, I turned to look at her and though her eyes were still innocent and blue, I saw my dads sorrowful brown eyes staring back at me, letting me know he was still here with us, watching.

Shyla is now 6 going on 16 and though we fight like sisters at times, she will always have a piece of my soul and she will never truly know what she has meant to me until the day comes that heaven blesses her with the miracle of life.