The Absolute Most Beautiful Moment of My Life

As a young woman, I knew I was supposed to be thrilled with my wedding day, and I guess in a way, I was. It was NOTHING, NOTHING in comparison to the birth of my son. I think most women who have given birth understand this. Our husbands are one thing, our children, another. As hard as it was, I look back at my time in the hospital with a sort of longing...there was a joy in having one single purpose in life...to give life to my son. I did not have to worry about the daily grind....and in that way, it was freeing.

As time went on, I began to know it was not going to be long before Nick would be born...even though it was weeks away from his due date. One morning, we met with a room full of doctors, who were all a part of coordinating one of the most complicated deliveries the hospital had ever seen. My case was "famous," in the worst way of being famous. I remember a nurse in that meeting interrupted a doctor (you go, girl) and said, "This is still going to be a wonderful day for you. We will not forget that this is a joyous moment for you." It meant so much that she understood that as unusual as my situation was, it still needed to be as "normal" as possible.

That morning, a "tentative" date was set for Nick's delivery. It was a date that was as far as they could go for Nick's sake, and as soon as they could for the sake of my body. Notice that I distinguish between myself and my body. My spirit and soul are ME...my body, with all of its faults, just carries me around. So, the date was set, the planning was done. The closer it got, the more nervous I became. I knew from the looks on their faces that this was a very risky proposition. 

When the day arrived, I got up and was asked to take a special shower with that nasty orange betadine (sp?). After that, I was transfered to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit, which was where I was to give birth to Nick. They wanted me in the CICU in case I had "problems" with the delivery and also because they put a special cath (tube) in my neck and down to my heart. That cath gave the doctors specific measures of how my heart was withstanding the strain of delivery. I cried in that moment. The cath felt awkward and scary in my neck. This was definitely NOT going to be anything close to normal. 

When a child is born, the mother's body must absorb a large amount of fluid. This is difficult for a weakened heart like mine to handle, so this was one of the doctor's main concerns. They did not want to put my body through the stress of surgery (C-Section), but they also did not want me to push. Therefore, the plan was for Dr. Floyd to insert forceps and literally pull Nick out of me. Of course, he wasn't even Nick then, just the promise of a child.

The night before his birth was difficult for me. Since it was an intensive care unit, I had to stay by myself. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of hustling and bustling across the unit. I could see across, and I knew the man in that room had died. I saw his family crying, and I wanted to shout out that I was bringing a new life into the world, just has their husband and father had left this world. It was an amazing moment - a moment almost directly between life and death.

I was also in a tremendous amount of pain. I told the nurse to page a doctor, but she assured me everything was fine. Early, early the next morning, Dr. Floyd came in. The sun had not even peeked out yet. We both agreed last night was no night for sleeping. I knew he must be nervous. We had come to know each other. The whole hospital, even the custodial staff, seemed to be interested in knowing of this precious baby's arrival. He was responsible for making it happen. My whole life's happiness was on his shoulders.

Sure enough, the pain I was experiencing was labor. I was already dilated to four centimeters when Dr. Floyd checked me that morning. I was thrilled. It became real in that moment. This was really, really happening. Today. Today I would be a mother, something I honestly never, ever thought I would be. It was as if all the anxiety and fear went away and was replaced by complete joy. My family was there, all four sisters, my brother-in-law, and our dear friend, Stephen. I visited with each of them, but I was really in my own world. 

My mom was a wreck. She was so afraid Dr. Floyd was going to scar Nick in some way by pulling him out with the forceps. I tried to tell her it was going to be okay. This baby was going to be mine. That was my only concern.

The closer the time came to delivery, the more pain I felt, even though I had been given an epideral. I have fairly severe curving in my spine, from walking with my prosthetic leg while growing, and so the placement of the epideral was very difficult. As luck would have it, the very best doc for this was out of town. I really felt for her replacement. He was pretty obviously nervous. In a room full of his peers, fellow doctors, he tried to place the epideral. Dr. Floyd stood in front of me, and let me lean on him. I remember him saying, as if I was not in the room, "We have to have her numb. There is no way she will withstand the pain, otherwise." By the grace of God, I did not feel the next contraction. It was a good thing, too, as I was fully dilated and Nick was coming one way or the other.

They quickly laid me back on the table and the whole world seemed to move at lightning speed. There was a whirl of activity and there were people crowded into the unit, gathered to watch the tenuous delivery of this miracle baby....born from a miracle mom. And still with all of the activity, I continued to be in my own world. I barely even remember my husband being there. I was focused. I was ready.

The first good pull Dr. Floyd took almost yanked me off the table. One leg in the stirups does not hold one into position very well. We all laughed. It was a detail that we all failed to think of. On the next pull, the nursed held me under my arms -one on each side- so I did not fly off the table. Dr. Floyd's head was as red as a beet with each pull, and for a moment I thought my mom was right...my baby was going to come out mangled. 

I suspected I was having a boy, based on an ultrasound tech's slip up. Still, I wasn't sure. Dr. Floyd had asked me what the names were going to be. I told him, "Elena if it is a girl and Nicholas if it is a boy." I didn't understand at the time why he asked, other than out of curiosity. But then....with another gut wrenching pull....I understood.

From within me, from the very center of my being, came the most perfect little being.

"Hello, Nicholas!" Dr. Floyd proudly exclaimed, and the crowd went wild - literally. There was clapping and crying and laughing. I heard it but only in the distance, far behind the cry of my new baby. I was tuned in, completely, to him.

The nurse brought him to my side to show me his face. I knew immediately that he looked like me (YES! : ) ). He was almost five pounds, even though he was eight weeks early. This was one of many blessings. And since he was so premature, they immediately took him to the NICU. They took him away, far away, up at least two floors, all the way at the other end of the hospital, and it might as well have been across the ocean.

I was flooded with a joy and fear and anxiety that I did not know was possible. My immediate thought, one that has popped into my head time and time again in my journey as a parent: how did my parents do it? How do you let your baby go? How do you trust in doctors and nurses to care for your most, most precious creation? How do you live one second not knowing if everything is going to be okay? How do you suck it up for the sake of your child?

How?