I have been reluctant to sit down and write about your entry into this world. I’m not sure why. I think my memories of it are still a little raw and scary, and I didn’t want all my recollections to be about the drama and trauma of it all. I guess now, on the evening of your first birthday, is a good time to move past those apprehensions holding me back and tell your story. I want to remember for you. And for me.
You are working your way to sleep now in your playpen at Mammy and Papa’s house. Daddy is in Denver, and I wanted you to be with lots of folks who love you to celebrate your first birthday. (We actually celebrated on the Fourth of July when the whole family gathered at Crockett Park for fireworks, and since Tanner’s birthday is the sixth, we combined the birthday festivities. I’ll post about both events as soon as we get back home.)
07.07.07. 11:29am. 6.5 weeks early. 4.4 pounds. 18 inches. I twirled those numbers around in my head as I lay on the surgical table after your emergency C-section. I wanted to remember all I could. I tried so hard to hang onto every detail. It was all speeding and swirling by; it had all happened so fast. I had had a miserable Friday night, up most of it with a splitting migraine and pain in my abdomen. I was also fitfully coughing. I thought that was because I had mowed the yard on Monday and irritated my sinuses with some sort of pollen allergen. I woke your daddy up around 7am, sick with pain, and he talked me into to taking some Advil so I could rest. And I did for a couple of hours. When I woke up and went to the bathroom, I saw what I had seen three other times before. Those times it had been far earlier in the process, but that didn’t matter now, and I freaked out. I screamed obscenities to your dad from the bathroom and began to get ready to leave for the hospital. We were half-way to Vanderbilt by the time we got the midwife on the phone.
No one was quite sure what was going on, but there were suspicions of pregnancy-induced high blood pressure, and they watched your heartbeat get weak and irregular with each of my early contractions. Soon Lori Cabbage (midwife on call; Margaret’s only weekend off) called in the head of OB, Dr. Cheshire, and she recommended an emergency C-section. Your dad and I had less than thirty minutes to think about this drastic change to our birth plan, one that had previously included a midwife, calming music, no elaborate machinery and hypno-birthing classes. Those plans receded far into the background as medical professionals jabbered about the anesthesia for the C-section and hurriedly wheeled me into the operating room. An amazing team of doctors and midwives and nurses worked on us. Everyone did their job perfectly. Mammy had met us at the hospital, and Daddy called Jates to see if she would be in the delivery room with her neonate crew when you made your debut. There were no complications. Apparently we were a textbook abruption case. Everyone complimented me on listening to my body. As it turns out some 40% of abruption cases go undetected until it is too late for the baby, for mom or both. Even amidst scary hospital blue draped over me and hideous surgical lights shining on me, I was so thankful you were finally here. I felt a swell of relief and pride and immense love when I saw your image for the first time on Daddy’s old razor cell phone. You were splayed out like a purple frog with tubes running here and there, and you looked like the most precious thing I could ever imagine. Once stabilized, they brought you over to me briefly, and I kissed your cheek and tried to breathe in your smell. Then you were whisked away—all too quickly—to the NICU for the first of 15 days. Aunt Jates did a lot to reassure me that you looked really good, and I relied on her training and instinct for months after that. She watched out for both of us, lil bug. Everybody did. We were looked after and cared for and fed and protected. All of us. Your daddy and I knew we were immensely loved, and you have been as well since that very first moment.
This whole mommy thing has been much harder than I imagined it would be, but I have never, ever felt a love so pure and sweet and complete. I thank God and your daddy for you regularly. I love you so much, and I am so glad you came.
