On the morning that our baby was born, we got up early at ate breakfast together. Well, at least everyone else did, I was fasting for surgery. Melodee went to school that day because her class got out at noon and my mom was bringing her to the hospital so she could see Mercy if the worst came. We took pictures with the kids in their "big brother" "big sister" shirts. They kissed Mercy goodbye and said they would see her soon.
The drive to the hospital was short, but it felt like it was all day. We didn't say much, just held hands as we drove, promising to each other we could get through whatever the day brought us. Of course, there was no parking, so we had to park on the very top floor of the parking structure across the street. I was so nervous all morning. I think I had to use the restroom at least 10 times before I was loaded up on the gurney.
Check in was normal as always. Third time is the charm right? I always hate the IV part. But she got it the first try and I was all hooked up to the monitor and we just waited for the time to pass until we went to the operating room. Since we were a special case, our parents and our daughter would be allowed in the waiting room outside the operating room.
We met the nurse who would be in the operating room with us. And the neonatal doctor and nurse who would be there as well. When I explained what was "wrong" with Mercy he was impressed. He said most of the nursing staff doesn't know about what you just explained to me. Believe me, I would much rather not have to know this stuff, I thought to myself. That conversation went well. Until he got to the hard question. "Are we doing everything we can to save this baby?" Meaning, if she is dying do we let her die? What kind of question is that. He too, thought that we werent going to be bringing home a baby.
My mom came in before surgery and walked with me to the operating room. She said a prayer over us before I headed in to get situated. The room had quite a few people in it. The anaesthesiologist, my nurse, the surgical nurse, the neonatal doctor, the neonatal nurse, a respiratory therapist and of course me. The main man missing, the doctor! We obviously couldn't start with out him, so we waited. It was over a half of an hour that I sat on the table, waiting for her to stab me in the back (OK it's really not THAT bad) When the doctor finally showed up and we got started I felt relieved. Although I did tell him we almost broke out the scrabble game because he was taking so long.
After they gave me my first cut my husband came in. He took pictures of me. He held my hand and we waited together. It was my secret hope that she could come out crying. Crying was breathing. So eight minutes later, when I heard a tiny little cry, I was so happy. Relieved. Amazed. She was crying pretty good, even if it was very very quiet. They took her over to the table where they assessed her. And she got an APGAR test of 9. That was higher than my other two. They wrapped her and brought her over to dad to hold. Of course I was not able to hold her but I could see her little face. And I know she saw me too. I couldn't believe she was out and breathing and her heart was working. It was unreal to me.
As I got put back together my husband followed the whole crew into the other room. They checked her out. She needed no oxygen and was on room air. She was four pounds thirteen ounces and 17 and a half inches long. The cleft was only her lip and a little of the ridge line of her gum and not her palette. Although she still was going to be transferred, she was doing everything on her own.
In the recovery room I waited. My husband came back and told me all of the answered prayers about our baby. She needed to be transferred to the NICU so that they could run tests, but things looked really good!
Our daughter was waiting for us as we got back to my room. We waited for hours for the transport team to come and when they finally showed up, we got to see her before she left. Melodee got to touch her hand, and even though she was intimidated by the isolette she was in, she was more afraid for me. Both of my kids wanted me to come home. And I wanted everyone to be home.
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