Hello, My Name is Mommy

I had an emergency c-section with Munchkin. I was quickly prepped and wheeled to the surgery room. I shook the whole time. My mind was completely blank.

While they prepped me they stressed to me and Hubs that most likely the Munchkin wouldn't cry when he came out. Everyone knows that a crying newborn is a healthy one but since he was so early they had no idea what shape he would be in and if he could even breathe on his own. They told us over and over, "just because he doesn't cry doesn't mean he's dead. We'll let you know how he is within a minute or so but don't freak out when he doesn't cry."   I kept repeating to myself "doesn't mean he's dead. Just small. Doesn't mean he's dead. Just needs some support. Doesn't mean he's dead."

Not exactly the warm, fuzzy thoughts I had dreamed about before my son's birth, but the absolute necessary ones in our situation.

Back to the O.R., the doctors are doing their thing and say "okay here he comes." Out he came and........the boy was screaming his head off! Granted he wasn't as loud as a regular baby, in fact he sounded like a little lamb. But a PISSED little lamb. He was crying and promptly peed on my doctor. It was the most glorious thing I'd ever heard and for the first time in days I shed a tear, a happy tear of all things.

As HELLP Syndrome goes, all .5% of us that get it generally get better after the baby is delivered. Well, apparently not me. I ended up getting worse and my blood pressure decided it wasn't done play tricks on me just yet. It continued to soar, my liver continued to become larger and my doctors decided I wasn't stable enough to go see Munchkin. For almost 4 days I relied on family members to bring me pictures and videos and updates.

The first picture I saw without his CPAP machine on I burst into tears; he looked exactly like Hubs. He had a full head of beautiful dark hair and the sweetest face. I loved him immediately and my heart literally ached. My heart was in my throat as I fought back tears.

My nurses were not satisfied with the fact the doctors wouldn't let me get wheeled down to the NICU so they took things into their own hands, literally. One nurse that took a special liking to me decided she wasn't okay with me not seeing Munchkin so she snuck me down one day to meet my son. I was jittery and nervous getting wheeled down the halls to the NICU.

When we entered I didn't know what to expect. I'd never been in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit before and I didn't know which miniature person in the isolette was mine. They wheeled me up to the side of Bay 10, right by the window and there he was. My son. My tiny, pink, bony, feisty, warm, sweet little Munchkin was right there in front of me. The little man who kicked me in the middle of the night, the boy I'd talked to for 7 months, and the baby who I almost died for. There he was.

I couldn't hold him but you're allowed to "tuck and contain". You put one hand on the top of their head and the other hand on their butt with their legs curled up into your palm. I couldn't help but cry in astonishment, he was alive, he was breathing on his own and, according to the nurses, he could get mad and throw one heck of a tantrum.

Nurse Jill said "hey little man, mama's here" and I smiled through my tears. That's how I met my boy.