The first time I saw you, I couldn't believe how tiny and beautiful you were. I carried you for 30 weeks, and now, finally, I was looking at you.
On July 23rd, early in the morning, contractions started. At first I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was a contraction but I soon realized that the regular tightening in my belly was the real deal. Again, I found myself in the labor room. All set up and ready for a baby to be delivered. Even though I was having regular contractions, the doctors tried their hardest to stop the labor because even at 6 centimeters dilated, it was possible to keep you in longer. Once again, mama got pumped with a heavy dose of magnesium that doubly served as a muscle relaxer for me and important brain protection for you. After hours of being in the labor room with more irregular contractions and no further dilation, I was sent back upstairs to the antenatal floor to rest. This time it was different. The contractions didn't totally go away. Whenever I walked to the bathroom, I had a contraction. Whenever I moved, I had a contraction. They offered me an epidural- I said no. I sent daddy home that evening to get a good night's sleep and told him that if I called, his ringer had better be on loud because I needed him there for the delivery. That night the contractions got way worse and no painkiller they gave me worked. The morphine made me sleepy but it did nothing to prevent pain. This time was different. I was going to meet you. I knew it.
Seven centimeters. I didn't need a whole ten to give birth- you were tiny.
As I was getting wheeled down to the labor room (for the last time), I called your daddy who answered the phone by saying: "IS IT TIIIIIIME?" The wee hours of the morning didn't hide the excitement in his voice. Though you should've had another 10 weeks in my belly, we were ready; so ready to finally meet you. The day had finally come!
The labor was painful. The specialists were in the room, ready for anything that could potentially be an issue with you. I cried. I breathed through the contractions. I refused an epidural. Your daddy held my hand, told me I was doing a good job and didn't say much else (it was for the better). Excruciating pain is an understatement. Once my water broke it was all very fast. 24 hours of labor. A handful of pushes. And then I heard it. You were crying. You were breathing on your own.
I didn't see you right away because I was crying too hard. I was tired and relieved and happy, so happy. You were breathing on your own and it was such a miracle. You were checked, put in a nice cozy incubator and brought to my bedside so that I could see you.
Your skin, so pink & covered in a layer of soft blonde fuzz. Your nose, a perfect button. Your toes, tinier than I could ever have imagined. Your lips, perfectly plump. You looked like your papa. You were there. Mercy Heritage. 3 lbs 3 oz. Alive. Breathing. Mine.
The few moments after you were born didn't go the way I had planned. Of course--I had a plan. You would come out and be placed right on my chest. We would skin to skin. I would whisper sweet little stories to you while you slept peacefully on mama. These would be our special moments. Once again, my plans weren't what the Lord had planned for me. I only saw you for a few seconds before you were whisked away to your NICU room to settle and have a few more tests done. Over the next two months of your NICU stay, we would have lots of special time together to make up for those first moments we never got to have.
I'd only known you for a few seconds. I'd never held you. But my heart was bursting through the seams with love for you. John 1:16 says "From the fulness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another." You were already blessing us more than you could know, by just being alive-- by doing far better than we had dared to hope. Isaiah 59:1 says "Behold, the LORD'S hand is not shortened, that it cannot save or his ear dull, that it cannot hear;" The next two months, though beautiful, would be hard. We would bring you before the Lord in prayer every day & He would hear our prayers.
No comments:
Post a Comment