The chapter I’m writing this week is about the night my daughter was born. It was the first time I ever stayed awake more than 24 hours. It was scary, joyous and magical all at the same time.

As I wrote about that night, that spilled into morning, my heart began to race and my palms began to sweat. I was transported back to the darkened delivery room, standing next to my daughter’s birth mother, doing my best to give her the support she needed.

A confusing mix of emotions rolled over me and then receded like ocean waves.

I was excited. I couldn’t wait to meet our daughter, hold her in my arms and wonder at the miracle of her.

I was sad. My heart was breaking for her birth mother who had nurtured her for nine months and was also waiting to meet her.

I was scared. Would the delivery go well? What would the days ahead hold for us? Would her birth parents change their minds?

I was filled with love. A new life was entering the world. There were so many people waiting to meet her, so many waiting to announce her birth.

About eight in the morning my daughter finally arrived. Her birth parents and birthmom’s parents there to greet her. My dad joined my husband and I in welcoming our newest family member.

At the end of those long, emotionally intense hours I held my daughter in my arms. The mixture of emotions all receded and I was left feeling only love and awe.

My beautiful baby had finally arrived and our family was complete.