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Throughout my pregnancy everything was perfect in every semblance of the word. No morning sickness, no complications, I was perfectly happy and healthy. My husband and I were over the moon with excitement waiting for the arrival of our princess. We had been working tirelessly preparing for her arrival. We closed on our new home in my second trimester, and although it was a fixer upper, we were sure we could have it ready before she arrived. My father, Joseph, spent all his free time in our home, helping Tony with all the projects, and completing the projects that Tony was unable to do. All his years in construction had proven to be extremely useful and we couldn’t have been more thankful for his dedication to our family. While they spent all their energy on the rest of the house, my mother, Delilah, and I had only one project in sight, the baby’s bedroom. It took us days to complete but in the end in was an enchanted forest that I couldn’t wait to rock her to sleep in at night. We painted the walls a light navy, almost turquoise blue, and my mother the master muralist, filled the room with diamond like stars that seemed to shimmer as though they were real, fireflies danced through the room painted with a glow in the dark paint that made them look too real and a bright moon sat at the top of the wall shining down on the scene. They were just minor details compared to the crown jewel of the mural, perhaps my mother’s best work, in the center of the beautiful scene was a large oak tree, with deep dark wood, lines etched into every branch and jagged paint so when you reached out you felt as though you were touching real bark. The tree was filled with beautiful green leaves and living on those branches in those leaves was a family of blue jays. Each beautiful bird had a very special name. In the top branches was a large bird with blue checks along his feathers, and the name on his chest was Poppy. Sitting right next to him was a smaller bird with the lightest tint of blue to her gray feathers, and the name on her chest was Grammy. On the branch below that was a large bird the brightest blue jay you’ll ever see, on his chest was Daddy, with him was a small blue jay with blue down her back, on her chest was Mommy and nestled snug in between them was a tiny little baby blue jay and her name was Morgan. She completed their family tree.
Tony was at work when I went into labor. It took me by surprise, I had another five weeks before I hit full term. I had felt off all day but never thought this would be the endgame, but there I was sitting on the couch with my water broke. I felt proud of myself and the way I responded. I didn’t panic, I called my husband at work and let him know what happened. We were lucky Tony had been planning for the baby’s arrival, so when I called, he already had someone set up to delegate his work to. He was able to leave work immediately and come to me, once the baby was born after his four weeks of parental leave was up, he was also planning to work from home so he could be with us. I was sitting outside with my go bag swinging on the front porch swing when he pulled into our driveway. He was quite the sight, you could see the anxiousness on his face, bulging eyes, hair that had definitely been pulled at quite a few times and what seemed to be an unconscious twitch in his hands. But underneath all of that was the anticipation, I could almost feel the love pouring out of him. He jumped out of the car and ran to help me to my feet. On the way to the hospital he couldn’t seem to stop the love from pouring from his mouth, he kept telling me how strong I was, how beautiful I was, how lucky he was to have me and how great of a mother I was going to be. In that moment I was filled with so much happiness and love that I didn’t know how I was going to survive all the love that was going to flood my body after meeting our daughter, without bursting.
I didn’t realize something was wrong until hours later. I was admitted nervous that I had gone into labor so early, but the doctors had assured me they were going to see if they could stop labor and if they couldn’t they would do their best to ensure we were both safe. I myself had nothing but faith that our daughter would be okay. It might seem silly but, in my mind, there was no future that didn’t include my daughter, my husband and myself leaving this hospital in full health and covered in love. They were measuring her heart rate on my belly and it had been jumping all over for a while, it went from high to low to everything in between. In the beginning the nurses told me not to worry, that she was just very active and moving away from the heart monitor. As time went on though I could see their faces change, they were concerned by the activity. No one would tell me what was going on, they just kept giving me placating answers, I know this was to keep me calm and not to put me under any additional stress, but I lost my temper and demanded an answer. My husband said I was quite the sight, covered in a sheen of sweat with “crazy” eyes, hair wild in every direction, and a face the same angry shade as a tomato. They told me that the bouncing heart rate was a sign of distress, which meant that something was wrong with my baby. There was a change of plans and now I was being prepped for an emergency cesarean section. It was at this exact moment that the fear set in. I refused to believe that this could go wrong, that we could be hurt, either of us, but there was the truth punching me in the gut, my family was in trouble. Every plan I had in my head was unraveling. The picture of Tony sitting up on the couch trying not to fall asleep, holding a soft, sleeping, pink bundle of love in his arms was fading to gray. The little brown-haired girl, the spitting image of her father, running bare foot through the grass whooping with laughter in the playground, her first day of school, her first loose tooth, her inevitably building her first circuit board, every second of our lives together; gone. I tried to reach out and hold onto them, but it didn’t work. They were all fading away and I couldn’t stop them. I cried and screamed and begged but they kept going until my mind was a cold barren place. Tony told me after that he could see the moment the fear set in and when I let it consume me. The guilt I felt for Tony after wracked my body, I lost it so he couldn’t. One of us had to hold onto hope, had to ask the questions, and be there for the answers. If it wasn’t me than it had to be him. He talked to me through the whole surgery, trying his best to calm my soul. I can’t for the life of me remember what he said, in all honesty I can’t remember anything that happened after I was wheeled down the hallway, except for one thing; the baby never cried.
I’ve never been more thankful for the man I vowed my life to. He didn’t skip a beat, didn’t allow the despair to weigh him down, he stood up straight, switched his gears and soldiered on. He asked the questions Why? What’s happening? What comes next? What do we need to do? He was the one that learned she had neonatal respiratory distress syndrome, he was the one who did the research, listened to every word the doctors said and loved our daughter in every way he could. He spent as much time in the Neonatal intensive care unit as possible. He told me that he wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, that he was there, if all she would ever know was that hospital room and that incubator, he wanted every second of that time to be filled with love. When my parents came to visit us, he asked them to buy him as many books as they could find, they were angels during this time, on standby twenty-four seven to do whatever they could for us. Support my husband, sit with me, nothing was ever unreasonable for them. They bought him dozens of children’s books. He read her every single one, told every story, sang every song. He poured so much love into those five weeks, it made me wonder if love would be enough to save her. He told me that even if she never left the hospital, even if he never got to hold her or hear her voice, he didn’t want her to feel unloved for a second of her life. It was unconditional love in its purest form, and I thanked whoever was listening for giving us this loving, unyielding light. He never broke down, never lost his temper, not even with me when I was doing everything I could to make him, and he never stopped asking questions. He was always learning, always listening, always researching, always hoping and above all else always loving. I on the other hand was absolutely useless.
From the moment the nurse told me about the cesarean section and forward I was a gray lifeless blur. I wasn’t like Tony, I couldn’t see the light, I had no hope, my life exploded into flames that day and there was no way back. I never even saw her. The doctors took her away immediately because she wasn’t breathing, and I never stepped foot into the neonatal intensive care unit. I know she has Tony’s hair; he couldn’t wait to tell me and that she likes my his voice. The doctors can’t prove that but how could she not adore the sound of pure unconditional love pouring from her father’s mouth in the same way that I did? That might be the only thing she got from me. I was in the hospital for a few days recovering from the cesarean section. I might have been home sooner, but I couldn’t find the will to care for myself. My superhero husband spent every moment he wasn’t caring for our daughter, caring for me and when he was with our daughter, he asked my parents to stay with me. I didn’t make it easy on any of them. I wouldn’t have blamed them for wanting to give up on me. I was withdrawn, I was angry, I lashed out without warning and then cried for hours. They never even acted as though I was bothering them. They cooked every meal, cleaned every room, bared every angry tirade and dried every guilty tear that followed. They loved and supported me so much I feel like it should have saved me…
But it didn’t
“That’s why I’m here, that’s why I came to you.”
I made eye contact with the man on the other side of the desk for the first time since I walked in the room. I waited with bated breath for his response. Fear was running rampant through my veins. I was waiting for him to judge me, stamp crazy on my head, lock me in a room and throw away the key. I was also scared he would do the complete opposite. Tell me nothing was wrong, I was fine, I was causing my own problems in my head, that I needed to get myself together and move on. I was afraid that he couldn’t help me. He watched me with kind gentle eyes, never changing throughout my story and finally opened his mouth to speak,
“Thank you for sharing all of that with me. I appreciate the honesty and vulnerability that you have displayed. Let me explain to you what our next steps will be. We’re going to meet once a week and work on getting you back on your feet. We’re going to identify and set goals. We will start very small and gradually work our way up. We can also discuss medication if you would be open to an anti-depression medication, if that’s something you would be open to. Please know that as your psychologist, anything you say to me stays between you and me. Your goals and progress are completely controlled by you. I think that we will be able to make great progress with weekly sessions. How does that sound to you?”
I hadn’t realized I had started to cry until he casually handed me a box of tissues. I felt hope for the first time in so long. I felt hope that maybe I could have my future back, I could have my family back. Tony wouldn’t have to travel this journey alone, I could be there, I could shine light too. The tears were falling down my face and I couldn’t stop them. For the first time the tears made sense. They weren’t guilty tears caused by irrational fits of anger, they were tears of grief, tears of joy, and tears of hope. The same tears I would cry later with my husband as we picked our baby up from the hospital. The tears I would cry when I saw her face for the first time and introduced my voice to her. They would be the tears cried while I listened and Tony took notes, while the doctor laid out our future. The tests and specialist, possible delays and defects from the lack of oxygen. I listened to the doctors tell us that she may never be a typical girl, she may never do all of the things I had planned for her, but she would do the most important things. She would make us parents, she would bring us light and laughter, show us the meaning of unconditional love and fill our lives with that love, bring us so much joy we couldn’t imagine life without her, what more could we ask of our children?
I sat up straight in my chair and met my doctor’s eyes with confidence. I was ready to build that beautiful life with my family.
“When do we get started?”