BSparl's Birthday: Part Two.
The door opened and Chris was escorted in by one of the nurses. He was wearing a bright blue jumpsuit over his clothes, and a face mask to prevent germs from entering the operating room. My hands, which had been held by one of the nurses (because I asked her to hold my hand because I was scared, I'll admit it), fluttered animatedly and reached for Chris.
"She's on her way," I said to him as he took his seat up by my shoulder. He and I were both above the sterile field, listening to the sounds of the procedure as the anesthesiologist gave us the play-by-play as she peeked over the curtain towards my belly.
"Your daughter is almost here. Just a few more minutes now," she reported. I could hear her smiling underneath her mask, despite the fact that I couldn't see her face.
My body was completely numb, but I could still feel the pressure of what was taking place down there. It was like having dental work done, where you can't feel the pain but you feel the pressure. I felt them shifting things about inside of me, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
My obstetrician's voice rang out from below the sheet. "Ready, Mom and Dad? She's just about here!"
Chris held my hand, and I felt this enormous shifting inside of me. And then the sweetest sound I have ever heard broke through the din of the operating room. The sound reached into my heart and my mind and wrapped around the most vulnerable parts of me and closed tightly, making me feel safe and terrified and excited and … ready. All at once.
It was the sound of my baby's first cry. The child I had been hoping to have for as long as I can remember.
Chris said I burst into tears instantly upon hearing her cry. I don't really remember all of the details - everything became somewhat of a blur at this point, as the anesthesia worked in combination with the euphoria I was feeling. A nurse came and asked Chris if he wanted to help wash the baby off. He took pictures of her while she was being cleaned and weighed and swaddled. The nurses working on me kept asking if I was okay, and finally let me take off my oxygen mask. The surgical team worked to put me back together down there.
So much was going on, but the only soundtrack I could focus on was the sound of my daughter, crying with all her might and proving that her lungs were strong and healthy.
Suddenly, this little creature was brought to me, wrapped tightly in a white and pink striped blanket, a yellow hat on her head. She was pouting with her full, little lips, her chin quivering just a little bit as my husband put her in my arms.
"Oh, my baby. It's you. I'm your mommy. I love you." I remember murmuring the same sentences to her, over and over again, marveling at the fact that this tiny baby was just tucked inside of my body, and now she was breathing the same air as me, nestled between her mother and father for the first time in all of our lives.
Even though it took about 40 minutes for the surgical team to close me up and finish the surgery, I was completely absorbed by my child. Her long eyelashes and her tiny nose. I thought about how hard I had worked in efforts to make my baby healthy and strong. How hard I would continue to work to ensure that she and I, and her daddy, would have a long, healthy life together. Diabetes wasn't part of these moments. My heart didn't have room for anything that hurt. I couldn't focus on anything but this incredible moment.
I looked at Chris, who was staring at his baby with wide, tear-filled eyes.
"This is our baby, Chris. She's ours. We did it."
He kissed my forehead, then kissed his daughter's forehead.