June 9, 2022
Spoiler Alert
Since the title gives it away, there’s no need to slow walk to it. This is it, the culmination of days of agony, delay, and frustration, the “Act V” release of 60-hour-long suspense, the moment that a roller coaster carriage slows its ascension and transitions to a nose-dive. Our life was on the cusp of a drastic change, and this time for real. We just didn’t know it.
So when the maternity ward opened its gate for the fifth time after our heart-wrenching march around the hospital, we didn’t know it was in fact a welcoming embrace. Neither did I have any idea how far along my wife was or what outcome awaited us in the dreaded exam room. What I did know saliently was that any shred of expectation might invite a death blow on our fragile souls, so I did well to obliterate all remaining thoughts except a few backup plans for the worst-case scenario. Other than that, my mind was for the first time in a long time, empty, which was why it took me some time to get a grip on reality when the midwife said to my wife,
“You are 5 cm now. Congratulations.”
VIP Suite
Okay, I am not 100% certain that she said “Congratulations” but she might as well. We were overjoyed as if we had won the lottery, which in a sense, we kind of did. Instantly, the distress that had loomed over us for the past two and half days was gone without a trace. I held my wife’s hand and probably gave her a kiss or two as colors returned to our bleak and repetitive life. Boom, the floodlights over our future turned on, revealing an exit out of that torturous infinite loop. There was no time to take stock of what had happened and what gracious relief was given to us. Ready or not, we had to move.
Moments later, we found ourselves in a spacious delivery room, with a river view, all to ourselves. Having been through what we had been through, this was a honeymoon suite. A couple of nurses showed up to prepare my wife for the delivery process. Everyone was so welcoming, reassuring, and supportive, and practically treated us like VIPs. After the anesthesiologist gave my wife the epidural, the details of which I will not impose on you, she finally was able to catch some rest.
Fresh Perspective
Meanwhile, I felt like a kid on a field trip, fascinated by every machine and every procedure, but mostly ecstatic about the whole turn of events. Yes, I eventually realized I should start being useful so I acquainted myself with the place, got some supplies that my wife needed, and hauled our bags up from the car. As I gleefully roamed around the hospital, the same bulletin window, the cardboard cutout of that accomplished physician, and the sign that reminded people to respect patient confidentiality now reached me through a glittery and dreamy filter. I could hardly fathom this was the same place that rejected and recalled us over and over so many times.
Well, bygones be bygones. I got a baby on the way and a wife who might need me at any time. Here and now were all that mattered.
The next couple of hours kept the nurses and our midwife busy without much progress on the delivery, and not for the lack of trying. During that stalemate, my daughter’s heartbeat dipped for a bit, which sounded scary but we were assured it wasn’t a concern. Aside from that, both my girls were doing fine. A few more sluggish hours and exams later, it was evident that the baby was stuck in an awkward position that made natural birth difficult. In retrospect, that could have also been the reason for the preceding two-day delay.
Not a Sophie’s Choice
We had a choice to make. We could either perform an induction to accelerate the natural birth or opt for C-section to bring this enterprise to a definitive conclusion. But there was a catch. The first choice ran the risk of failure, in which case a C-section would be necessary at that point, anyway. What should we do?
I ran the scenarios in my head. Fact: the baby’s position was already difficult for natural birth. Fact: the baby’s heartbeat dipped already and might dip again, in which case C-section would be necessary, anyway. Consider: scheduling a C-section now with everyone safe and sound was preferable to requiring a C-section when the baby’s heartbeat or health would already be in jeopardy. Consider: 2.5 days ago we couldn’t have imagined the 2.5 days we just had, so nothing was too wild for imagination at that point and we should probably err on the conservative side.
Easy choice. My wife was on the same page and shared similar considerations. Perhaps because the surgeon didn’t know about the ordeal we just endured, I detected a slight surprise on her face as she saw how adamant and eager we were to pounce on a C-section.
Baby’s Anatomy
Time to move again. My wife went into the operating room first to be prep’ed, while I sat outside, finally taking everything in. I was afforded a brief moment of reflection, prayer, and thanksgiving, before being invited into the OR. For some reason, my mind was overwhelmed by the magnitude of the situation and my senses by the exotic settings, so much so I was almost hyperventilating.
Stepping into the OR, I immediately looked for my wife and felt relieved to see her lying on the table, awake and apparently much calmer than I was. I wanted to give her a hug of reunion but medically speaking, it was quite inconvenient to do so, so I settled for the next best thing and sat down by her side. We shared a precious moment of unreserved joy and anticipation that seemed long overdue and started to savor this wonderful process as we waited for our daughter’s emergence.
The next half hour of my memory was basically in snapshots. The baby was out. There was blood. But it was okay. She was skinny and fragile. I brought her to my wife, who was deeply moved. We took some selfies. I gave her back to the nurses for checkups. She did great. I cut the umbilical cord. That was very scary. The nurse wrapped her nice and tight. I held her in my arms, not sure if I was doing it right. The nurse walked us to our room. I held my daughter to my chest, skin to skin. We sat on the couch. The room darkened. We were left alone, all by ourselves.
The Beginning and the End
Suddenly, it felt like we were transported to a celestial expanse where only this sublimely mysterious, charming, and amazing new life was left with me. For my entire life, I had avoided touching babies due to the fear of damage by mishandling. Now I got my own and she was helplessly mine to care for. Yet there was no trace of fear to be found in my heart. Rather, I was simply overwhelmed and amazed. As this tiny being wiggled about, trying to find a more ample bosom, I felt embarrassingly sorry that I got none to offer.
“Your mom is still recovering in another room,” I said in a baby voice, “You’ll have much better luck with her than with me.” While we both waited for our family reunion, I told her how much we loved her, welcomed her, and enjoyed her. I told her about the awesome things we could do together. I told her how excited and eager we were to witness her potential realized, her dreams fulfilled, and her future unfold. When I finally ran out of things to say, I just held her and sang.
Our nine months of expectation ended with a three-day adventure. As one adventure ended, another would soon begin. When my wife joined us from her recovery, we three finally found ourselves alone as a family for the first time. Everything felt so foreign, yet so right. We had a hunch that a rocky journey was waiting ahead, but this blissful moment could never be taken away from us. Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
~ Du