This hand. This little, beautiful hand.

How long I have waited to see, to hold, to kiss this hand. It took a lot to get this precious hand here, but he is here.

Let me re-cap:

On November 14, 2006 we had an appointment for the second and as far as I was concerned, final amniocentesis. The doctor wanted to do it to make sure Knoah’s lungs were mature before we induced. Sure enough they came back mature and baby Knoah was ready to come out. They took me up to Labor and Delivery to get me settled for the day of our 3rd child’s birth. At 1:30p.m. they “pilled” me and shortly after my contractions began.

They were not intense or even unbearable. I sat in bed, laughing and talking with my father and husband. Talking about the joys of the world. Listening to the men talk about sports all the while I was contracting quietly. About 4:00p.m. or so, my contractions started to pick up. Becoming a wee bit more painful. Still, I wasn’t about to become a sissy and complain. I labored quietly and joyfully. I figured that with as much pain as I was in during the pregnancy, this was a piece of cake. (During my pregnancy I had polyhydrominos, which is excessive amniotic fluid. From the beginning of my confinement to D-Day, I gained about 100 pounds. To date, I have lost about 60 pounds.)

The nurse came in about 4:30p.m. to check the progress of my cervix, 4 cm! Yeah, we are almost there. Throughout the rest of the day, I progressed slower than expected. By 5:00p.m. I was 6 cm. I figured by 10:00p.m. I would be a mother to 3 children.

Apparently, Knoah had other plans. By 10:00p.m. I was 8cms. 8cms! Only 8. How can I be only 8cms. My contractions started to really pick up and the wanted me to bear down. I did and nothing happened. They waited until midnight to check me again. I was still only 8cms.

The doctor made the decision to do an emergency C-Section…..SEE BELOW!!

Under normal, rational thought, I would have been highly upset and irate at the idea of laboring for 8 plus hours in excruciating pain. I wanted to die, short of wanting someone to kill me, which I was convinced that was what the baby intended to do.

Within 30 minutes, I was in the operating room, lying on the table, passing out from exhaustion.
I could hear the doctor using this moment as a teaching opportunity. Okay, I thought, just do it already!

“He’s out” is what I heard.

Nothing followed. Silence. Nothing but dead silence.

I start panicking, I wanted to ask why he wasn’t crying. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t doing anything. Please God, why isn’t he crying? He should be crying, he’s not breathing…why isn’t he breathing, Oh my God, please help him breath, don’t take him, please, don’t take him, take me God. Lord please leave him, take me.

There’s a whimper, not a full cry or even a half cry, but it could have shattered windows. My prays were answered.