As I said before, I did not see my daughter right away. I actually did not see my daughter until she was almost four hours old. I remember being on the operating table, having felt the pressure of tugging, pushing, and pulling on my abdomen. I remember hearing the faintest little cry that brought me to tears. That cry was my daughter's first breath of air. I remember Grant holding my hand and I remember how we both waited to see her.
I remember that I had to ask the doctor if she was okay. I had to ask if she was even a girl (because they say the ultrasounds are not always accurate). Then, suddenly they whisk her away to the NICU without showing her to us. We were unable to get her first picture, Grant didn't get to cut her umbilical cord. Heck, one of the nurses had a hand on Grant's shoulder and wouldn't let him get up to see what was going on.
I remember the fear that something was severely wrong, deathly wrong with my daughter. I mean, obviously that would be the only reason to not even show the mom her child right away. I remember trying not to panic as I waited in the recovery room for someone to tell me what was going on. Grant and I nervously sat there waiting for someone, anyone to tell us that something was incredibly wrong.
About a half an hour after we were in the recovery room, a team of doctors walk in. They tell us what we've been waiting to hear. Dr. F who delivered Kaylee and was my prenatal doctor said, "she was born with a bit of a cleft in her lip and her palate. She's in the NICU for observation." Immediately, my husband and I both thought "THAT'S IT?!?"
My immediate concerns were: is she breathing, does she have all of her limbs, is her heart okay, did she pass all her newborn screenings, and is she going to survive? The answer to all of those were: yes. Then why on earth did they keep my daughter from us? Why did they deprive Grant of the experience of cutting the umbilical cord? Why didn't they use some kind of tact? I could ask all the questions in the world and never get an answer.
After all of that, my only thought when I saw my daughter for the first time was: she is perfect. This is the truth, she is a gorgeous blue eyed, blond haired, beautiful girl. How she got the blond hair and the blue eyes is beyond me. While I understand the basic mechanics of it (Punnet squares and all) the genetic permutations are to numerous for me to calculate on my own.
I wish the doctors would have been more open. However, after thinking about it, I think the doctors chose the lesser of two evils in a way. On the one hand they could have told me right then and there, but would have scared the crap out of an already scared woman who was going through her first major surgery. Or they could wait until she is in a more calm state in the recovery room.
Now I am just glad that my daughter is home with me and Grant, and that she is healthy and that she is eating, and gaining weight and pooping, and being a newborn. She is the most perfect thing we have ever done, and we are so excited for her future.
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| This was the day after she was born. We weren't allowed to take a pic the day she was born. |
I remember that I had to ask the doctor if she was okay. I had to ask if she was even a girl (because they say the ultrasounds are not always accurate). Then, suddenly they whisk her away to the NICU without showing her to us. We were unable to get her first picture, Grant didn't get to cut her umbilical cord. Heck, one of the nurses had a hand on Grant's shoulder and wouldn't let him get up to see what was going on.
I remember the fear that something was severely wrong, deathly wrong with my daughter. I mean, obviously that would be the only reason to not even show the mom her child right away. I remember trying not to panic as I waited in the recovery room for someone to tell me what was going on. Grant and I nervously sat there waiting for someone, anyone to tell us that something was incredibly wrong.
About a half an hour after we were in the recovery room, a team of doctors walk in. They tell us what we've been waiting to hear. Dr. F who delivered Kaylee and was my prenatal doctor said, "she was born with a bit of a cleft in her lip and her palate. She's in the NICU for observation." Immediately, my husband and I both thought "THAT'S IT?!?"
My immediate concerns were: is she breathing, does she have all of her limbs, is her heart okay, did she pass all her newborn screenings, and is she going to survive? The answer to all of those were: yes. Then why on earth did they keep my daughter from us? Why did they deprive Grant of the experience of cutting the umbilical cord? Why didn't they use some kind of tact? I could ask all the questions in the world and never get an answer.
After all of that, my only thought when I saw my daughter for the first time was: she is perfect. This is the truth, she is a gorgeous blue eyed, blond haired, beautiful girl. How she got the blond hair and the blue eyes is beyond me. While I understand the basic mechanics of it (Punnet squares and all) the genetic permutations are to numerous for me to calculate on my own.
I wish the doctors would have been more open. However, after thinking about it, I think the doctors chose the lesser of two evils in a way. On the one hand they could have told me right then and there, but would have scared the crap out of an already scared woman who was going through her first major surgery. Or they could wait until she is in a more calm state in the recovery room.
Now I am just glad that my daughter is home with me and Grant, and that she is healthy and that she is eating, and gaining weight and pooping, and being a newborn. She is the most perfect thing we have ever done, and we are so excited for her future.
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| Kaylee Hope. My Darling Girl. |
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