I will remember the way it felt when I delivered my child's head. The sense of relief knowing that just another push or two and I would to hear my baby cry, hold my baby in my arms, and watch my baby suckle at my breast. I will remember the sense of wonder I had, in that moment, at the marvel of birth. I will memorialize the way my child's head felt when I reached down and smoothed my finger tips over her soft, hair covered scalp. I will remember the moments of anguish that followed as my body betrayed both myself and my child. The moments when I was forced to pivot onto my hands and knees in hopes that my body would release and my beautiful child would be born into this world pink and bewildered. I will remember the intense yet defeasible pushing, my midwife's profanities, the impenetrable words NINE-ONE-ONE. I will remember the sirens, the voices of the rescue team. I will remember and feel the burn of every piece of my flesh as it was manually ripped open by as many as three sets of hands at a time. I will remember the desperate disbelief as I was taken from my home and lifted into the ambulance.
I will remember my final two contractions when my body finally released and my child was born. The way I could only see the front of the ambulance as we raced down the road and the fact that I only discovered my daughter's gender from the pronouns that were used after she was fully delivered. I will remember the hope, the fierce hope, when one rescue worker said her color was getting better. I will remember the entry to trauma room, the extreme abandon I felt for my own safety, and my focus on my daughter's wellbeing. I will remember having to deliver my placenta and attempt to be stitched without proper anesthesia all while a curtain was drawn between myself and my daughter.
I will always remember when the neonatal doctor came to me, head shaking in defeat and I saw my daughter for the first time. The nurses brought my limp daughter to me, intubation tube still in place, blood from birth still spotting her scalp. I will remember how, in that moment, I knew I would never be the same.
|(Photo by Sherry Kruzman Photograohy www.sherrykruzmanphoto.com )|
A picture that normally depicts the beginning benchmark
for the development of an adorable scrunched up baby.
For me, however, it has become this image above of my
breathless infant who's life outside my warm belly never