I was being wheeled down the hall on a hospital after a long morning of anticipation for the c-section. As we went down the last hall, we paused in front of the operating room. Your dad somewhere in the line up being gowned up and prepared for surgery. My cousin standing in support and ready to fly in if your dad couldn't handle it. The sweet social worker smiling and giving me a good squeeze on the arm. The nurse who would help with the surgery there by my side. The NICU team to my right. We had already spent the morning in tears and as I tried to smile and fight back the tears that continued to fill my eyes, I looked into the faces of all these people and a nurse said, "Are you scared?" A river of tears streamed down my face and I wept. Not the kind of beautiful weeping to which some women are so fortunate, but loud, blubbering sobs with forced breaths in between. It was not pretty. At that moment it really hit me that there was a very good chance that you would not live long past your delivery. That we could leave the hospital empty handed and hearted.
As I recall the memories of that day, I realize they are incredibly vivid and not something I think I shall ever forget. I can feel the waves of fear and hurt in my heart and stomach again. I feel sick to my stomach. I didn't realize the mind and body could recall so exactly memories in their fullness such as those.
And yet...there I was. Standing in front of the sink for what feels like the thousandth time. Washing bottles and pumping supplies after another timely feeding. And I think to myself, how lucky I am to be washing bottles again. So grateful to be lacking a full night's sleep. What a miracle it is to have you home. Washing bottles will never be the same again.
We love you, sweet Sofi.
