As I’m waiting for news on the baby and the food, I call my mom to marvel over our brand new miracle, telling her that yes, she does look good, hands and feet are indeed attached and she has an adorable little face. I did cry the seconds I got to hold her and am now just waiting for my husband to come back. I receive my first Vicodin (yay) with the food (no cheeseburger, baked potato or au gratin but quesadilla with bad chicken; but on the upside, there is cheesecake!). I get apple cider in a champagne looking bottle (convinced it is champagne for all about 5 seconds. I know, I know, that wouldn’t have made sense but I sure could have used some after the whole ordeal). After a couple of hours of pure exhaustion I am still riding on the wave of euphoria and totally unable to relax. Nurses come and go with their blood pressure cuffs and thermometers. The nurse comes to clean me up again (I forgot how much blood is really involved in this) and take the catheter out (I would have preferred if she had left it in for a while). She completely ignored that just hours ago she had told everyone in this very room that my baby wouldn’t make it. Everything seems totally fine and normal right now. How is that even possible? Okay, I’m so happy right now that two came play that game. We chit chat about completely nothing (like the all-time favorite; the weather; has it been nice?). I tell her that my family will be here as soon as my husband can pick them up and come back. I ask her when I can see the baby and ask her if we can time it so my mom can come down to the NICU with me. This question has her grunting something about needing the room (again, really? after all we have just been though. Finally she agrees as my husband comes running in the room (high on the moment as well, mixed with always being in a hurry, he is telling me that everything looks good, that she is pretty yellow (jaundice) and she might have some typical preemie issues. They even told him that she probably won’t have to stay very long in the NICU either. This feels so unbelievably great, I immediately want to cry again. As my husband leaves to pick up my mom and son I relish in the fact that I did it! I survived my bed rest, I kept her inside, I avoided infection, I got induced, I struggled through a 34 hour labor, baby ‘s heart rate dipped, she was in distress, she stopped breathing, she could have died, she made it, she pooped during delivery, the placenta ruptured and the umbilical cord tore. Six stiches later and baby doing great in the NICU, I’m more than satisfied, I realize I am so so lucky and so so blessed!
I’m so excited to see my son, I miss him so much! I haven’t forgotten about my big boy. When my family comes, I finally get to hug him…and my mom. Just seeing her brings me great comfort. I think that they will wheel me down to the NICU in a wheelchair but they actually bring me down in a bed. They switch me from the bed I’m in (not a small task since I’m still shaky, sore and not much help) to another one. It’s big and awkward and doesn’t take corners easily (getting it in the elevator is interesting). My mom and the nurse are both running after the giant rolling bed while I’m being wheeled off by a very efficient, tall black haired man (he has probably done this before). Things feel surreal. I just want to see my daughter! See for myself, with my own eyes that she is doing well! I can’t wait.