I was scheduled for a C-section seven days before being induced on Jan. 18, but that was cancelled because the baby was no longer breech. After a smooth pregnancy many things became complicated in labor: the epidurals (yes plural) didn't last, I had terrible back labor, I ran a fever and the baby's heart rate got too high.
The doctor stepped outside into the hallway and conferred with a staff of nurses who returned with blue scrubs and a doctor’s mask for Anthony.
I was terrified about the operation and if Anthony was he never showed it. In fact, he was giddy. Giddy about becoming a dad of course but also about his new getup. Dressed in the scrubs and hospital mask, Anthony looked at himself in the mirror as though to say the next time I look in the mirror I’ll be a dad, but right now I’m Dr. Gagliano.
They wheeled me into the operating room and asked Anthony to wait in the hallway while they prepared everything, and suddenly I got nauseous.
“I feel sick, I feel sick,” I kept repeating to the team that obviously wants to quickly numb me up and get on with this.
The nurse got me a container and immediately I began to vomit. They never said it was an emergency C-section but I sensed there was an urgency to get the baby out when the anesthesiologist said he needed to get the medicine going as soon as possible.
Quickly, I was given another shot in the back. I lied down again nervous about the operation. In fact, I even remember asking: “How do you know I won’t feel the doctor cutting me open."
They explained there was no need to worry, and brought in Anthony.
Anthony sits next to me, holds my hand and the procedure starts.
We are eager and excited to meet our baby, and feel oddly strange knowing that the miracle of life is unfolding just beyond that big, blue curtain. In just a few moments we’d be parents, not to mention we'd know if we have a son or daughter.
The doctors are we aware that we didn't know the gender and give us a play by play of the process as it unfolded behind the curtain.
“Wow, this baby is going to need a hair cut,” says Dr. McCullen.
Instantly, tears form in our eyes as we know our baby (apparently with a full head of hair) is about to be born.
And the doctor proceeds with, “We’ve got a head, we’ve got shoulders … we have a baby girl!”
We were elated. Anthony immediately stood up to see his daughter, disobeying everything they told the fathers in childbirth classes, which was “Fathers whatever you do do not look behind that curtain because anything and everything is behind that curtain.”
Anthony was in awe ,and I remember him saying, “Oh my goodness.”
And now I’m lying there, helpless, as everyone oohs and aahs over her.
“I can’t see my baby, I can’t see her,” I say.
Finally, they hold her up over the curtain, and there’s my Sophia Debra.
Her perfectly, round face is beat read, her mouth is wide open as she wails away, and like the doctors remarked she has a full head of hair — dark hair. She’s perfect and she’s ours. I watch as they clean her up to my right on the table. They check her vitals, weigh and measure her, and swaddle her. They bring her over to me and put her on my chest and I’m in love.
She’s crying still and so am I. In this moment, and still today, nearly a year later she is the most beautiful and amazing part of my life.
Everything people say about parenthood is so true. That you’ll never feel a bond as strong as the one that comes with being a parent, that you want better opportunities for your child than you had, and most especially that it goes by so fast. Since the day she was born until now everyone — doctors, family, strangers in the supermarket, neighbors— says enjoy every moment it happens so fast.
A neighbor put it almost perfectly when he said: You blink and they're grown up. She's only about to be 1, far from grown up, but overnight it seems she went from newborn to toddler.
Anthony and I certainly have treasured every moment of this wonderful journey. And when we update her baby book it puts into perspective how quickly the time has passed. Sophia is 11 months now, has six teeth and says several words: dada, cat, cup, yes. And pretty soon she will be walking on her own.
She’s grown so fast, and yes we are a little sad she’s no longer a tiny newborn that we could swaddle and hold for hours. But we are enjoying every new milestone and this blog will be our way to slow down time for just a bit and document the details of our life as a family of three.
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