Completing the Circle

It is a measure of the life that Jeff and I led that this picture of Hannah right after she was born looks like a healthy baby. She may be under an oxygen hood, connected to a million wires, and have an IV but it is what wasn't there that thrilled us 7 years ago. She doesn't have IV's running through her belly button (so she was healthy enough for them to risk losing the best neonatal IV site), she doesn't have a respirator tube coming out of her mouth, she doesn't have eye protectors taped over her face to protect her underdeveloped eyes, she doesn't have vaseline rubbed over her skin to retain her moisture, and she isn't covered with a saran wrap "blanket" to keep in heat. She may have looked "sick" to other people but for the first time we had what we considered in our warped experience a healthy Gerber baby.

My little girl just turned 7 yesterday and as usual I paused to reflect on where I was the day she was born and where we have come since then. My pregnancy with Hannah was miserable and the day she was born was no better. I had been on bedrest for over 4 months and the last two months of that was spent in the hospital. I missed my husband, my two other children, and my home desperately. I was in tremendous pain all the time from the scars in my belly from prior surgeries, the preterm labor, and the fact that the pressure of my darling daughter had cracked my pelvis 6 weeks before she was born. I had a notebook I kept next to my bed with the days of my pregnancy counted down and I would look at it throughout the day because I knew every day I spent pregnant was equivalent to two days that Hannah would stay out of the NICU.

My pregnancy was a lonely one emotionally also. My previous pregnancies had been so bad and the kids so ill when they were born that everyone was worried that this would be the time that our luck would run out. My husband, my friends, and the rest of my family were afraid to get "attached" for fear that this would be the baby that didn't make it. And my delivery with my son was so horrific that half my family was convinced I was going to bleed out on the operating table.

But Hannah was the completion, the close of the circle, and the healer of our family. My delivery was still awful but for the first time I got to hold my child in the OR instead of waiting weeks, for the first time I could see my childs face and feel the miniscule weight of her body in my arms before all the wires and tubes were added. It was such a miraculous moment. For the first time I had a baby that I could breastfeed without requiring equipment that made me feel like a cow on a milking machine. I had a baby that only stayed in the hospital two weeks! And one that didn't come home with oxygen and monitors and medicine. I had a baby that I could walk into the kitchen with and make a glass of water because I didn't have to keep her at least ten feet away from my gas stove (because of oxygen tubes). It was liberating.

She was the one that finally showed us how easy it was to have a normal baby. She helped us to forgive ourselves for our marital discord, physical and emotional exhaustion, and feelings of helplessness and loss when our other children were young. We realized that it wasn't us, our marriage wasn't doomed, we weren't bad parents - it just really was that hard to have children that sick. And she continues to be a light in our lives - bringing joy and healing just by being Hannah.

I became a mother when I had my oldest - I gained confidence that I was a good mother when I had my youngest.