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Beep....beep....beep.....
I can hear all the machines chiming away as doctors begin my c-section. This isn't my first section so I know it will only be a matter of minutes before Gabriel will be out. I stare at the little baby warmer as I hear the doctors talking.
I can't help but think that just the day before I had said, I'm just really tired. I want this to be over.
No I didn't. I didn't want this. I wanted this to be a beginning...not over. I wanted to bring him home...not have an emergency c-section that would save my life. This is not what I meant.
"Baby's out," I hear one of the doctors.
My biggest prayer when I was pregnant with Sam was just that we would hear him cry. God, just let me hear his little baby cry. That's not too much to ask, is it? Doctors had told me multiple times it would be unlikely given how immature his lungs would be. But the minute Sam was in the baby warmer and suctioned out, I heard the sweetest little kitten mew-cry. My prayer was answered.
This pregnancy, I pretty much expected that we would at least get to hear Gabriel cry when he was born. This time, I had prayed that we would get more time with him. It's an awful thing to pray for the "at least"s. Of course I prayed for healing, but I had accepted that was not likely going to happen.
When Gabriel is born, there is no sound. No kitten mews. It's silent.
Still I can hear those beeping machines.
"Ohhh. He's just so little," my mom whisper-sighs.
How little? I think. Does he look strange? Is he too tiny to hold? Will he look like my baby?
...will I love him?
It's an odd thing to not be sure if you'll be okay looking at your baby. We knew what to expect from Sam's birth that his chest would not be full and his abdomen would be swollen, but we were not prepared for a preemie.
I see two little feet sticking straight up from that table. They're all red, covered in blood. I feel like I may have closed my eyes at this point because I felt like it was just a glance.
And then he's next to me.
"Baby has a heartbeat but was unable to take a breath," we hear.
"Oh, okay," I answer.
My baby isn't breathing. And all I am able to say is okay. I have to say okay. I cannot ask them to save him. I have to watch this end. I have to let him leave me.
I have to say goodbye.
They unstrap my left arm so I can touch him. Jamey holds him up on my chest. He's so very warm and sticky. Soft. Perfect. Tiny, yes, but perfect. Our perfect boy. Jamey, we have 3 boys. I can picture them all together, and if they're anything like middle brother...life is crazy. I imagine an entire life lived with this new son of ours.
I want to cry, but I can't. All I feel is joy that we have him in our arms. He's so cute! Look at him! Look at this nose. Look at these toes. His hair! How much hair he has! It's dark...mommy's hair. I kiss him over and over. I whisper I love you more times than I can count.
At times, it's hard to see him from my angle and I can only see the top of his face.
Did his eyebrows just raise up??
Yes! Jamey and my Mom tell me that he's making faces. Later in the video, I see each and every face he makes from their point of view. All I see are those tiny dark eyebrows. Gosh, they go straight up, just like Edward's. Jamey tickles his foot.
He smiles.
Did you see that?? We may not have heard him cry, but we got a smile.
He's wrapped in a little blue polka-dot blanket. I open it several times just to get a good look at him. I want to memorize every detail. The teeniest toes. The itty bitty fingers that barely wrap around one of my own. He's a little hard for Jamey to maneuver, and I keep asking him to hold him back a bit so I can get a better view.
Jamey tells me later that he wanted me to have as much skin to skin time in case I needed the hysterectomy and missed out on the rest of his life. I had completely forgotten that risk. Such a sweet man, thinking of those precious moments I would get with Gabriel.
I ask the doctor at one point about the placenta. "Placenta looks good, no accreta," he replied.
"Finally. SOMETHING," Jamey says. I agree. It's about time we didn't hit a 'worst case scenario' option. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
My chest gets tight. So much pain. I feel sick to my stomach. They bring over another blanket for Gabriel and lay it on my chest. I can't move. Ugh this hurts. The anesthesiologist pushes morphine. My mom tells me later my blood pressure is so high at that point that she is internally freaking out for HER baby. I'm very grateful it does not show on her face. All I remember is the calmness of her voice telling the doctor, "Umm...she says it hurts." We are two mommas keeping their cool while on the inside crying out, SAVE MY BABY.
The morphine kicks in and I start to feel a little better. Thank goodness, our time is short. I do not want to only remember this physical pain.
I touch Gabriel's nose. I kiss his forehead more. I remember with Sam I had forgotten to tell him I loved him, so I make sure I repeat it over and over. You need to know how much we wanted you. How loved you are. You must know. Please know that sweet baby.
"Mira and Edward MUST meet him. They need to see their baby brother," I tell Jamey.
He agrees, but reminds me that Edward hasn't been feeling well and may not be allowed into the unit.
"Oh don't you worry about that. We will make it happen," the doctor chimes in as they're finishing closing up my incision. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This will be their only chance to meet him.
The drape comes down and I'm flipped to a new bed. I can still move my toes. Jamey holds Gabriel while they get me situated. It feels like forever. Please hurry, I need him back.
Jamey puts him back in my arms before I am wheeled out of the OR. It is so quiet. Everyone is somber. He's still with us, and we are taking him back to my room so he can die.
I glance up and see giant snowflakes falling outside. Goodness, it's April 15th.
Gabriel's birthday.
Beep....beep....beep.....
I can hear all the machines chiming away as doctors begin my c-section. This isn't my first section so I know it will only be a matter of minutes before Gabriel will be out. I stare at the little baby warmer as I hear the doctors talking.
I can't help but think that just the day before I had said, I'm just really tired. I want this to be over.
No I didn't. I didn't want this. I wanted this to be a beginning...not over. I wanted to bring him home...not have an emergency c-section that would save my life. This is not what I meant.
"Baby's out," I hear one of the doctors.
My biggest prayer when I was pregnant with Sam was just that we would hear him cry. God, just let me hear his little baby cry. That's not too much to ask, is it? Doctors had told me multiple times it would be unlikely given how immature his lungs would be. But the minute Sam was in the baby warmer and suctioned out, I heard the sweetest little kitten mew-cry. My prayer was answered.
This pregnancy, I pretty much expected that we would at least get to hear Gabriel cry when he was born. This time, I had prayed that we would get more time with him. It's an awful thing to pray for the "at least"s. Of course I prayed for healing, but I had accepted that was not likely going to happen.
When Gabriel is born, there is no sound. No kitten mews. It's silent.
Still I can hear those beeping machines.
"Ohhh. He's just so little," my mom whisper-sighs.
How little? I think. Does he look strange? Is he too tiny to hold? Will he look like my baby?
...will I love him?
It's an odd thing to not be sure if you'll be okay looking at your baby. We knew what to expect from Sam's birth that his chest would not be full and his abdomen would be swollen, but we were not prepared for a preemie.
I see two little feet sticking straight up from that table. They're all red, covered in blood. I feel like I may have closed my eyes at this point because I felt like it was just a glance.
And then he's next to me.
"Baby has a heartbeat but was unable to take a breath," we hear.
"Oh, okay," I answer.
My baby isn't breathing. And all I am able to say is okay. I have to say okay. I cannot ask them to save him. I have to watch this end. I have to let him leave me.
I have to say goodbye.
They unstrap my left arm so I can touch him. Jamey holds him up on my chest. He's so very warm and sticky. Soft. Perfect. Tiny, yes, but perfect. Our perfect boy. Jamey, we have 3 boys. I can picture them all together, and if they're anything like middle brother...life is crazy. I imagine an entire life lived with this new son of ours.
I want to cry, but I can't. All I feel is joy that we have him in our arms. He's so cute! Look at him! Look at this nose. Look at these toes. His hair! How much hair he has! It's dark...mommy's hair. I kiss him over and over. I whisper I love you more times than I can count.
At times, it's hard to see him from my angle and I can only see the top of his face.
Did his eyebrows just raise up??
Yes! Jamey and my Mom tell me that he's making faces. Later in the video, I see each and every face he makes from their point of view. All I see are those tiny dark eyebrows. Gosh, they go straight up, just like Edward's. Jamey tickles his foot.
He smiles.
Did you see that?? We may not have heard him cry, but we got a smile.
He's wrapped in a little blue polka-dot blanket. I open it several times just to get a good look at him. I want to memorize every detail. The teeniest toes. The itty bitty fingers that barely wrap around one of my own. He's a little hard for Jamey to maneuver, and I keep asking him to hold him back a bit so I can get a better view.
Jamey tells me later that he wanted me to have as much skin to skin time in case I needed the hysterectomy and missed out on the rest of his life. I had completely forgotten that risk. Such a sweet man, thinking of those precious moments I would get with Gabriel.
I ask the doctor at one point about the placenta. "Placenta looks good, no accreta," he replied.
"Finally. SOMETHING," Jamey says. I agree. It's about time we didn't hit a 'worst case scenario' option. We both breathe a sigh of relief.
My chest gets tight. So much pain. I feel sick to my stomach. They bring over another blanket for Gabriel and lay it on my chest. I can't move. Ugh this hurts. The anesthesiologist pushes morphine. My mom tells me later my blood pressure is so high at that point that she is internally freaking out for HER baby. I'm very grateful it does not show on her face. All I remember is the calmness of her voice telling the doctor, "Umm...she says it hurts." We are two mommas keeping their cool while on the inside crying out, SAVE MY BABY.
The morphine kicks in and I start to feel a little better. Thank goodness, our time is short. I do not want to only remember this physical pain.
I touch Gabriel's nose. I kiss his forehead more. I remember with Sam I had forgotten to tell him I loved him, so I make sure I repeat it over and over. You need to know how much we wanted you. How loved you are. You must know. Please know that sweet baby.
"Mira and Edward MUST meet him. They need to see their baby brother," I tell Jamey.
He agrees, but reminds me that Edward hasn't been feeling well and may not be allowed into the unit.
"Oh don't you worry about that. We will make it happen," the doctor chimes in as they're finishing closing up my incision. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This will be their only chance to meet him.
The drape comes down and I'm flipped to a new bed. I can still move my toes. Jamey holds Gabriel while they get me situated. It feels like forever. Please hurry, I need him back.
Jamey puts him back in my arms before I am wheeled out of the OR. It is so quiet. Everyone is somber. He's still with us, and we are taking him back to my room so he can die.
I glance up and see giant snowflakes falling outside. Goodness, it's April 15th.
Gabriel's birthday.
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