Greg took this picture in the heat of the moment...the very very fast moment...so it's a little out of focus but still perfect in every way. It was quite an eventful day; I'd labored for 5 hours with a team of 10 people rushing in with every contraction to try to get the baby's heart rate back up. Maybe it wasn't 10 people; maybe it was 5, but however many it was too many yet not enough. His heartrate was in the 30s and rising just slightly in between contractions. The decision was made to get him out asap, and when they did the cord was wrapped around his neck and abdomen multiple times. I had had a rough day already and was vomiting on myself during the c-section, but it seemed Graham had the worst day of all. Nobody would tell me what was going on, but I did not hear my baby cry as they rushed him to the table in the corner to work on him. Later I found out that the respiratory therapist standing by was only a second away from administering breathing for him when he finally did take a breath. And then I heard the cry everyone had been waiting for. But they were still rushing around as if something was really wrong. They had to get him somewhere to do something or other, and he was still crying and very upset. I kept insisting that they show me our baby, and they put him next to my head. Then I put my hand on his face and pulled it next to mine and said it's ok. I am a big believer that babies know their mommies, because like I said, he had been really crying hard and stopped to a complete silence when I whispered in his ear. Honest.
I had been secretly hoping for another girl, and when they pulled him out the doctor said, "I think I see boy parts." I said, "are you sure?" But as soon as I got to touch him, I was thankful he was a boy. Now when I put him to bed at naptime or at night and he snuggles his head on my shoulder and relaxes his little body, I think I want 10 more baby boys just like him.
Tomorrow he will be one year old. And we're one year happier.
