Tonight, during bedtime prayers, my husband told my small people that I was the bravest person they might ever know. At 6 and 8, they blindly believe him. Eyes wide, heads nodding. They know the outline of my story, but not the details.
Eight years ago at this very moment, I was in a hospital room, waking from anesthesia, having become a mom only a few short hours earlier. My surgery was sudden. It was unexpected. It was terrifying.
When they took me away I had only held my sweet girl one time – for less than two minutes. And I was violently ill from the pain. When they took me away, my husband was gone….in the chapel, praying. We had been complaining for hours. I was told I was at seizure level for morphine – I couldn’t be given anymore. And yet, I was wide awake, each breath more painful than the last – the pain seeping through my pores.
I had hemorrhaged after having Delaney. Not unheard of, but frightening still. My doctor was a miracle worker – never hinting at the fear she felt as she tried for what felt like hours to stop the bleeding…all while keeping Jeff and I both unaware of the danger and laughing. Unfortunately, my problems didn’t stop when the hemorrhaging did. Because I began to bleed internally at a different location. I developed an internal hematoma – THIS is what was causing the new pain.
THIS is why I needed emergency surgery.
THIS is why my hospital bed was empty when Jeff came back from the chapel.
THIS is why my doctor hugged my husband when she walked out of surgery.
THIS is why he thought I had died.
But her hug wasn’t a consolation, it was one of relief.
I wasn’t the first mother at the hospital to hemorrhage, but I was the first to require emergency surgery for an internal hematoma – one that was so intense, it was visible to the eye.
So, eight years ago, at this very moment, I was waking up, covered in blankets (I apparently always complain of being cold as I come out of anesthesia) listening in bits and pieces as Jeff spoke softly on the phone.
“…..she had a bit of a rough go….”
“…..emergency surgery…. yes, scary…”
“…..hoping she wakes up soon…”
“….Delaney? Delaney is perfect…”
And that last part, that is what mattered most to me. That and having him sitting right there.
So, as I finish writing this…. it is right about NOW, eight years ago, that I truly held my baby girl for the very first time.
And he was right. She was perfect. She IS perfect….eight years later.