The day you were born, Daddy drove me to the hospital and when he pushed me through the doors in my wheelchair, I had a huge smile that nobody could see behind my pandemic face mask. Because when Daddy had pushed me through those same doors five times before, I was there to get iron infusions and I didn’t get to leave with a baby in my arms.
But this time was different! This time when the COVID-19 screener looked at the very pregnant woman sitting in a wheelchair and asked with a knowing gleam in her eyes, “Triage?” I got to say, “YES!!”
And when the security guard asked your dad, “Is this your first?” his eyes almost popped out when your dad answered, “No, it’s our sixth.”
I was taken right to my room and they got me all ready for surgery. I was so relieved to make it there, because you were my sixth C-section and it felt like I might not hold together much longer. Between your incredibly strong punches, kicks and turns and all of the contractions I’d had for weeks, my scar hurt really bad. That had never happened before and I was scared and grateful that the doctor wanted to take you out earlier than usual at 38 weeks along.
The moment I heard your voice for the first time, I started crying. You quieted down right away, but I kept on crying.
I knew you would be my last baby and this was the last time I’d ever hear my child’s voice for the first time. And I didn’t want it to be the last time. Because when I heard you cry, it was like an angel from heaven was right there handing you to me as my heart opened up, wrapped around you and held on forever.
And I was so sad that I wouldn’t feel that magic again.
But when your dad brought you over and I looked into your beautiful eyes for the first time, it felt like God said to me, “He needs you. He needs his mother.”
And as I touched you for the first time, I understood what God was telling me.
My uterus had started to tear open with you inside. Thank our Heavenly Father above that you were safe and I was safe. But it was no longer safe for me to have any more children.
So I cried and cried and was so grateful that I got to have one more and I got to have you. And I got to be here to raise you.
Our last dear little munchkin to fill our souls with the joy and love and laughter of a newborn.
When I got light headed, Daddy let the nurse take you away and weigh you. Even at only 38 weeks, you weighed 8 pounds, 1 ounce! And the doctors and nurses said you were so strong!
Then Daddy held you nearby so I could see you while I focused on my breathing. It was hard while I had a mask on and was still crying. :)
But I managed to take a few pictures of you and Daddy. Two of my favorite boys on Earth!
Eventually, we were settled back in our room and I was hooked up to so many wonderful inventions that made sure I was healthy and recovering well.
We introduced you to your siblings, Grandma and Aunt Elise back at home who wished they were allowed to visit the hospital.
“Awww!!! Hi, Baby!!! You’re soooo cute, Baby!!!!”
They asked what your name was but we didn’t know.
Then we held you some more. And marveled at your full head of beautiful hair!
And I happily obliged when the nurses rehearsed all the benefits of skin to skin contact. I’d learned to love it with your older sister and snuggled you close.
I let your dad hold you a little when I got to eat for the first time that day…
… But then I wanted you back right away.
And as the sun set on your birthday and our room grew dark, I held you near and closed my eyes along with you; falling asleep with a smile as I listened to your sweet newborn humming.
“Welcome to our family,” I whispered. “We’re so glad you’re here.”