Wifey in The Wild

It all began on a regular Wednesday morning. I went to the doctor for my routine bi-weekly appointment. Having gestational diabetes, I was being closely watched by my OB with weekly ultrasounds, and at 37 weeks pregnant, these frequent visits had become my new normal. On this particular morning, my baby did not want to cooperate with the ultrasound tech. He refused to move or kick for her as she tried to check over his different parts. After an abnormally long imaging session, I was informed that, as expected, my fluid levels and placenta were very large, and my baby had grown to be close to 9 pounds, if not 10 pounds, already. As I waited to see my OB, I began to doubt my ability to give birth to such a large guy. Luckily, my doctor was on the same page. Before I could even express my concerns, she informed me that we would be better off having a scheduled c-section as soon as possible, so we made a plan to bring my baby boy into the world that Friday morning. I left my appointment and sat in the car as snow lightly fell around. My hands were shaking as I called my husband to tell him that by the end of that week, our adventure as parents would begin. 

On Friday, Josh and I got up before the sun and nervously got ready to meet our baby boy. Under a cloak of storm clouds, we headed to the hospital, checked in, and began the long wait before surgery. As we waited, snow began to fall outside turning the forest landscape around us into a wintery world of white. The early moments of the storm left the hospital short staffed, postponing our surgery time by a few hours. Those hours of waiting felt like an eternity as we anxiously anticipated the surgery I was about to have. When it was finally time to get started, my nerves began to hit their peak. I very shakily went into the operating room, and watched as the surgical team went to work. It felt like I was stuck in slow motion while the doctors were moving at the speed of light all around me. The busy room was a little overwhelming with bright lights, big machines, and a noticeable air of importance. The spinal tap hit me quickly, and after a brief moment of nausea, the delivery team was ready to begin. 

The nurse brought my husband in to hold my hand, and in what only felt like a few minutes later, my doctor announced that she was pulling the baby from my womb. In the midst of the first snowstorm of the year, Jackson Alexander Morgan came into this world, a beautiful little miracle more stunning than the wintery wonderland outside. As our doctor brought him into the world, one of her assistants giggled, exclaiming that he looked like an old  man baby. (After seeing the pictures our anesthesiologist took for us, I have to agree. He looked exactly like a grumpy old man at that moment.) Then for the first time, I heard the sound of my sweet little baby as he grumbled and grunted his way into life. I had read about mothers not bonding with their baby right away, and not feeling incredibly attached to him during pregnancy, I was fully prepared for this to be my experience. I have never been so wrong in my life. The moment I heard my little boy from behind the surgical curtain, I began to weep. I had never felt so full of love and happiness. I waited impatiently for the doctors to clean him up and bring him to me, and when I finally met him face to face, I fell completely head over heels in love with him. I stared at him, in awe of his perfect little face. Josh leaned over my shoulder rubbing his tiny little back, and in the blink of an eye, we went from a married couple to a full fledged family. I couldn’t tell you how long the surgery lasted. I was so enamored with my baby boy that time ceased to exist for me in those early moments of parenthood. When my c-section was over and the doctors were moving me off the operating table, they placed my baby in the arms of my husband. Watching him hold our son for the first time, I was moved to tears yet again. As he became a father before my eyes, I slid deeper in love with him than I could have ever imagined.  

In the recovery room things began to settle down. I held onto my baby boy as the medication from surgery began to wear off and my feet floated back down to earth like the snowflakes falling from the sky outside. Josh hovered over us geared into protector mode feeding me ice chips, adjusting my pillows, and asking the nurses questions about every move our little guy made. The doctors reassured us that our boy was doing just fine, but after a couple hours, they began to raise some concern over his breathing. They sent us upstairs with the caveat that our pediatrician would need to come look in on him to make sure everything was alright. 

When we got up to our room, Josh stepped out to update our family in the waiting room, and that’s when all hell broke loose. Jackson’s blood sugar level suddenly dropped, and when the doctor gave him glucose to bring it back up, he choked, his whole body turning bright purple. I have never felt so helpless as when they rushed him out of the room to suction out his lungs. Still numb and unable to move, I cried out in fear not knowing what would happen to my precious baby boy. Josh soon returned to find me in a panic, and I somehow managed to instruct him to go check on Jackson through thick, intense sobs. He ran out to find our newborn child, and my mom came in to calm me. When I finally regained my composure, the doctor came in to inform me that my baby was okay and was being taken to the NICU for observation. 

When things finally settled down that evening, Josh helped me into a wheelchair, and took me up to see my baby. He looked so fragile laying in his little box covered in wires and hooked up to monitors like a tiny science experiment. I held his hand and whispered that everything was going to be alright until it was time to go back downstairs. That night, I slept uneasily separated from my little boy for the first time in nine long months. I watched the snow still falling out the window wishing I could hold him in my arms. We went back up to visit him first thing in the morning. I was in more pain that day than I had been in previously, but holding Jackson instantly took away all of the discomfort I had been feeling. The love I felt for my newborn son was stronger than anything else going on around me. 

When we returned to our room that morning, my husband turned his full attention to me and my recovery process. He sat attentively by my side keeping a constant watch over my condition. He kept my cup full of water, told the nurses when I was downplaying my pain, kept track of my pumping schedule, and helped me up to the NICU everytime I needed to see my baby. He bathed me. He fed me. He made sure my every need was met. Leaning on him both figuratively and literally, I felt so safe and so full of love. I was able to focus all of my attention on my baby boy because Josh was so focused on me. It was not the birth story I had pictured for the three of us, but somehow, it turned out to be better than anything I could have ever imagined. 

Jackson was soon released from the NICU, and Josh and I began our journey into our new lives as mom and dad. Coming home from the hospital, I brought with me the two greatest loves of my life. I was deeper in love with my husband than I had ever been before, and I was so enamored by my son that I felt as if my heart would explode with happiness. Though the snow from that weekend soon melted away, the love that we had grown still remained, and as I began to settle into my new role as a mother, I felt blessed to know that the best was yet to come for my happy little family.