All of a sudden, the nurse came bolting into the room, quickly followed by another and another. Your heart rate had dropped again and was not jumping back up like it had before. She asked me to change positions – I was still able to move around fairly well in bed – but every time I would move to a different position, the external heart rate monitor would lose your heart rate completely and they couldn’t tell if it was bouncing back or staying down. After a minute or two of failed attempts to get an accurate read on the external monitor, they decided to use an internal monitor which immediately picked up your heart rate and we were finally able to find a position in which you stablized. Eight and a half minutes had passed.

Obviously, I could not deliver you on my hands and knees with my face flat on the bed, which was the only position you seemed to tolerate, so the doctor crouched down beside my bed and explained that we had to make a choice right then. She and Daddy discussed the possible options while I cried and prayed and ultimately we knew the fastest and safest way to get you out without risking further drops in your heart rate was an emergency C-section. (As we would later find out, your umbilical cord was wrapped around your body which caused your heart rate to drop and also prevented you from dropping lower into my pelvis. In addition to that, you had flipped since our last ultrasound 3 weeks ago so that you were facing “sunny side up”, which was causing my back pain during labor. Both of these situations are dangerous to the baby and can result in a C-section.)

Through tears of fear for my baby, I signed the release forms while Daddy dressed in scrubs for surgery and I was wheeled into the OR. They administered anesthesia to numb me from the chest down. While the medicine took effect, they had to lay me propped up on my left side to avoid further drops in your heart rate, but this resulted in portions of my right side yet AGAIN not receiving adequate amounts of anesthesia and I could feel dull pain when they started the first cut. No thanks.

The anesthesiologist asked the doctors to let the meds take effect and after about 20-30 seconds they tried again, no luck. “Give her 2 minutes” I could hear as he asked for more time, and although they must’ve been trying to hide their concern because they knew I could still hear them, I could tell from the seriousness in their tone of voice that they didn’t think we even had 2 minutes. They tried one more time after about 20 more seconds and when I could feel that one too, they told me I would have to receive general anesthesia. Within seconds everyone in the room was moving around, repositioning, etc. and the last thing I remember was asking “Is Blake here?” Then I was asleep.

Daddy would not get to see your birth. He was left in my labor and delivery room and was told someone would come and get him when I was prepped for surgery. A few minutes after they wheeled me out, a nurse came back and in and told him I would be under general anesthesia and showed him to the room where they would bring you after you were born. Within 3 minutes, you were out and in your Daddy’s arms, with an overall clean bill of health.

While I remained in the OR for another 50 minutes to complete the surgery, your two grandmothers were able to watch through a window as you got your first bath in the nursery and they commented on your enormous toes… we think you get those from your uncle Cameron, somehow they hopped through the hereditary line.

When I woke up, over an hour after your were born, a nurse brought you to me in a rolling crib and placed you in my arms. Daddy was there, too. The moment I first saw you was a rather low point for your Mommy and still brings me to tears whenever I think about it. I have heard that the moment a mother first sees her child, she loves him in a way she never thought possible. A mother is supposed to have this connection to her child that cannot be broken, as if she already knows him solely because he has grown inside her body for 9 months and he has been a physical part of her for so long.  It hurts my heart that I did not have this experience with you but I will write about it in hopes that other mothers who may read this and have similar experiences will not feel alone in their pain.

I remember the moment vividly. I was still under very heavy medication and when they handed you to me, my first question was, “Is this really my baby?” When they told me yes, I looked up at your Daddy with an unsettled confusion: “I’m just supposed to believe them?” You see, I didn’t get to watch your birth. I didn’t see your little face, fingers, and toes as they lifted you up for the first time. There were no tears of joy as we heard your first cry. I did not get to hear the doctor announce your birth time, weight, and length with a smile that you can hear through his surgical mask. Your daddy and I didn’t get to look at each other with tears streaming down our faces because you had finally arrived. We missed all of that and so when they brought you to me for the first time, you were still a total stranger to me. It was like they just handed me a baby who I had never seen before and I was supposed to just know that you were mine. I was supposed to just love you and trust that they were telling me the truth. It was a surreal moment and one that I won’t easily forget. Fortunately, you, me, and Daddy would have plenty of time over the next few days to bond, laughing and crying together, and growing into the little family we are today.

I spent my first day in the hospital in a rather hazy fog from the multiple anesthesia medicines I was given in addition to the intravenous Benadryl to tackle the severe itching response I had from the anesthesia. I was also on some pretty serious pain killers, so I can’t remember much of what happened that day. Your grandparents came to visit after you were born and then eventually went home to get some sleep since it was still early in the morning and no one had slept all night. They all came back later to hold you and talk with us about the delivery.

Daddy did all the work that first day. Well, he really did all the work the first day, first night, and most of the second day because I still wasn’t allowed out of bed. He is amazing and not once did he complain. We had you in our room on the first night, thinking “he’s our son, we can handle this.” Boy, were we wrong. For starters, you cried almost every 20 minutes for different reasons but we didn’t always know why so we would just try different things – changing your diaper, holding you, patting your back to see if you would burp, feeding you – yet, sometimes you just kept crying. Not to mention, I was stuck in bed and high on all those drugs I was taking so I would wake up when you started crying but immediately fall back asleep within seconds of Daddy getting out of bed. I know it was a very long and frustrating night for him as I drifted in and out of sleep while he dealt with a crying newborn all by himself during his 3rd night without sleep. But he never once got frustrated with me. He did at one point say, “What have we gotten ourselves into?” and when it was almost morning and we were both beyond delirious, he turned to me and said “This is all YOUR fault.” Even in my drug-induced high, all I could do was laugh. We quickly decided that you would go in the nursery at night time from then on.

Our next few days were filled with intimate moments between new parents and their newborn.

We held you, laid with you asleep on our chests, listened to your little grunts and noises, “ooed” and “ahed” over practically every move you made, and took an insane number of pictures. We limited visitors to just parents while we were in the hospital and while we knew this would upset some of our family members, we knew it was the right decision. I was still going through a lot physically post-surgery with frequent follow-ups from the nurses, and Daddy and I needed this precious time to bond with you. Not to mention, there were moments when all the sweetness and cuteness of newborn-ness was gone and we just cried in frustration because we didn’t know what we were doing, we didn’t know what you needed, and we didn’t know how to fix you. Luckily, we had an incredible staff of nurses who would watch you in the nursery so we could take naps during the day whenever possible.

We were discharged home on the 4th day and as we got in the car, your Daddy and I both had a moment of clarity. This was our new “normal”. Daddy, Mommy, and Baby Brantley. And it was perfect.

Brantley, you are the most perfect little creature. You were born with a full head of hair, skinny fingers and long legs. When you’re awake you seem so alert, like you’re taking it all in, and you have the baby bobble-head thing down to a science. You love to sleep in our arms and you hardly ever cry unless you need a diaper change, you’re hungry, you need to be burped, or you just want to be held. And as soon as you hear our voices as we come into your nursery, you quiet down. The sound of your cry is just starting to change and we’re beginning to notice your distinct voice amidst the wails. While we don’t want you to ever get any bigger because we love you just the way you are right now, we can’t wait to see your first real smile, hear your first laugh, and walk through all the little milestones with you.

Daddy and I have said over and over again that this is the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do, and for different reasons. I carry a lot of responsibility and put a lot of pressure on myself because I am fully responsible for your food source. Yes, we can always supplement with formula. My brain knows that but my heart believes and responds as if you’ll die without the precious food only I can provide for you. Meanwhile, Daddy’s biggest struggle is listening to you cry, listening to me cry, and sometimes listening to us both cry at the same time and not being able to fix it.

But as each day passes, we’re realizing that we really can do this. I love our little family and we love you more than you’ll ever know.

Welcome home, baby boy.