The Arrival - 4.1.11

Sofia arrived in an intense adventure, attended by more doctors and nurses than I've ever seen for a couple of patients. A few of them were focused on me but the vast majority were prepared for whatever her arrival would bring.

While the procedure was originally scheduled for March 31, the neonatologist in the March 30 team meeting insisted that I receive two doses of steroid shots to promote Sofia's lung development prior to her delivery. Because she was born one day before 36 weeks (four weeks early and one week prior to full term), she was missing some lung development time. That pushed back the procedure to April 1, which I have to admit, made me happy. There's something elegant and pronounced about a birthday on the first of the month.

Anyway, we had to report to the hospital at 6 AM for a scheduled 8:30 AM delivery. Before the procedure, we met several doctors whom we had never seen before. Docs for me, docs for her. My husband and I tried to ask questions but it was a bit cloudy in the brain when you think you'll meet your daughter within hours. The plan was to give me a spinal tap to make everything numb, drain Sofia's cyst, and then deliver her by c-section and then pass her off to a slew 0f docs who were ready for her complicated little situation.

Not everything went according to plan. First, because of mild scoliosis that I have, the spinal tap/epidural administration had to be done three times. It was very painful for me, and each time they started inserting the catheter, I could feel it so it was time for another try. That got the room tense, before that we were high-fiving, making jokes, me and all of them (Nico joined us later). I could hear the docs I knew well become subdued, give me tips to better position myself for the shots, start whispering. The anesthesiology nurse who helped me was covered in tattoos, he had thick chest hair, he was burly and large, and I buried my face into his chest and quietly cried.

Once it was all said and done, they laid me down and prepared to drain the baby's cyst. The sonogram machine didn't work though. Something about a bad wire. I'm not sure. But it was yet another SNAFU. I cried again. Once the machine was up and running though, it was only a about a minute of ultrasound before they concluded that the baby, after all this time of being in the right position for anything we needed, was not in her best position for cyst-draining. They moved me on to my side, but, no change. Babe was coming out, cyst and all. I know that this decision sparked a game of telephone down the lane. Now they were preparing for a baby who had a chest obstruction and may face trouble breathing as a result.

Then my husband was brought in, and they started the c-section. When you get a c-section, you don't feel the pain of incisions or anything like that. Your outsides are all numb. But your "insides" aren't. You can feel pressure and movement. And while the docs were giving us the minute by minute countdowns, I could tell myself that the baby's birth was coming. When the anesthesiologist said two minutes left I felt it, and when he said one minute left, I already knew.

And, then, sigh. She was born. I heard her squeal a big loud cry. It sounded like music. It was so emotional and wonderful. My husband and I shared moments so intense I could do them no justice by using words to describe them. I will hold those moments etched in my brain, replaying them over and over, for the rest of my life. They were so wonderful. My husband shared the great news with our parents a few minutes after. I heard there were hugs and celebrations.

I never saw her face at that time. I wouldn't see her face until an hour later, for just a couple of minutes, her full of ventilating tubes and surrounded by at least four doctors wheeled into my recovery room for just a couple minutes en route to the NICU. I saw her though, and I crumbled with love, huge, fat, sagging tears of immense, undying, always there I knew it was there love.

I didn't see Sofia again for hours. I pumped in my room before I met her again. The OB apologized that I didn't get to see her face at the delivery but that it was a precaution taken by the neonatologists because the cyst was still in tact.

But, when I was wheeled down to the elevator plus four flights in my chair, still numb all over and unable to stand, I peered up at her bed. I could only see bits and pieces of her, but I still cried. It was still happy crying. There were people I didn't even know there, but they knew my moment. Our moment. Mine and Sofia's.

Those few days while I was recovering on floor 6 and she was living on floor 2 in the NICU, I made visits every few hours and reached up from my wheelchair and sent kisses from my fingers to her parts.

Little aka Sofia

Pregnancy is over, but the adventure has not ended. I look forward to writing more posts. But, before I do, the treasure of this is my beautiful daughter. Living perfection, Sofia Ciulla, born 4/1/11.

I can say no more. I am speechless.