Everything Looks Different Now

***I sat into the car. The first time I'd been outside in five days. I looked at my hands. They looked like hers. I finally looked up and saw houses. Restaurants. Signs. Things I'd seen before. Many times before. But they looked so different now. They looked so insignificant. So small and unworthy of my glance. I was a mother now. A mother with a dead child who was sitting somewhere in a hospital I had just pulled away from. I had looked into the face of my child and counted her tiny toes. Every other thing on this earth was now being seen through eyes that had lain on my angelic daughter. Nothing would ever look the same***

My doctor took my head into both her hands and told me it was too early. She told me our daughter would not make it, and if she did, her life would be plagued with an innumerate amount of challenges and health interventions. I nodded my head in her hands. "I know" I cried.

Once I knew that we were in "worst case scenario" zone, my thoughts ran quickly. So many pictures ran through my head. " I don't want to make a choice" I kept saying in my mind. Since I had found out I would deliver early, I kept praying the same prayer, "If she is going to go, please go now. If she is going to be, please let her get to a week where her complications would be relatively minimal." When, at 6am I was told we were at worst case scenario at 23 weeks and 5 days, I felt the decision was being made for me. It was just so soon.

B finally got to the hospital. I could tell as soon as he walked in that he wanted to try to save her. I asked the Dr. to talk to him and tell him exactly, word for word what she had told me. He sunk his chin and nodded at her comments. His eyes so puffy and red, trying to stay strong. We looked at each other and cried. We both knew we were losing our daughter today.

My heart was so strong. My heart told me it was too early. That this was happening now, prior to 24 weeks for a reason. But looking at B I wondered if we could try. The Dr. said we could but she was so fearful that we would not understand the survivability of a 23 week old. We contemplated it, but my heart was so strong. I knew we had to get through this and mourn this.

A new OB was coming on shift and came in to get acquainted with us. He examined me and told me I would deliver very quickly. I told him I did not want to have a c-section. My only c-section option was a traditional, or vertical c-section which would mean I could never deliver vaginally afterwards. And it was real surgery I'd have to recover from.

I told him I wanted to deliver vaginally and he agreed it was best, even though baby was breech. We popped my bulging bag and I pushed. I pushed a lot of her body out, but they said my cervix had actually shrunk a bit after the bag was out, and I was not dilated enough to deliver the larger part of her body. I was so overwhelmed and disappointed. I just wanted it to be over.

We tried again but I was so upset I could not focus. His every touch sent me squirming. I just couldn't do it. He wanted me to get an epidural. I did not want one. I just wanted it over. But I got one, and soon thereafter it was over with no more pain.

My tiny daughter was handed to me in a blanket that dwarfed her. She took my breath away. She was so incredibly beautiful. She had his nose. She had my lips.