Thursday August 16, 2012
For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about the day my girl was born. I had been in the hospital for two days. I was induced, due to the nature of being considered a high risk pregnancy- (thanks, severe pre-eclampsia, I hope I never see you again) and I felt awful. The magnesium drip they had me on to prevent seizing during labor made me feel like I had little, tiny fire ants having a dance party all over my body. I had thrown up more times, it felt, than during my entire pregnancy (and considering I threw up all eight months that I was pregnant, that's saying quite a lot). Because of the severity of the pre-eclampsia, I was so swollen that even closing my hand around my husband's for support was painful. But most of all, I remember the fear that Ellie would be affected by the disease and the medication given to keep it at bay. I was terrified that she would be ill, or malnourished and the idea that she would more than likely have to spend some time in the NICU since she was born at just exactly 36 weeks scared me half to death. But, with all the odds stacked against her, my little Thumblelina surprised everyone, especially her Mama.
As parents, we don't mean to, but we operate throughout life thinking that our kids are exactly like us. Little clones with our features, our penchant for British Literature, our love of devil dogs. Nothing could be further from the truth.
An hour before Ellie was born, she was closely monitored, as babies with pre-eclamptic Mamas always are. I will never forget the last update on her progress before she born. My lovely L&D nurse walked into my dour room with a smile and a song, as I sweat and tried to breath through the pain. (Just a word of advice for those who may also suffer from scoliosis as I do, epidurals don't work on us, ladies. You're going au natural whether you want to, or not:) I frantically asked her how my Ellie's vital signs were and she paused for a second, took my hand and said,
"Honey, your baby's got the strongest heartbeat in the ward, whether their Moms are healthy or not. Your daughter's a soldier."
She had the strongest heartbeat.
When she arrived, my best friend said she flew out like Superman, one arm raised, ready to run. ( Yes, one of my best friends was also my attending OB. It's an amazing thing to have someone who loves you and your baby to deliver you. She was only welcomed into the world by people who loved her, and no one else!)
She didn't need to go to the NICU. Not even for a visit. It broke my heart that I couldn't breastfeed her at first because of all of the medication I was on, but she took to formula and then transitioned to breast milk like a champ. She continued to have the strongest heartbeat throughout the first few months of her life when we had to take her to specialist after specialist due to digestive issues that caused a rectal prolapse. Her heart and her mind, were always strong.
That imagine and that phrase stay with me when I think about my daughter, especially today as she is sick- which is the picture above. My little, sprite of a daughter who eats three blueberries and is full, who is precocious and funny and smart and more than anything, brave. It's become my prayer for her that her heart will always be strong- with health, with conviction, with love, with courage. She is not like me at all, and today more than ever I am so glad. She is strong.