Because we had raised the question the previous week of how big the baby was, our doctor ordered an ultrasound for this week's visit. The doctor saw that the baby was undersized, only about three pounds, and was not getting the proper nutrients. Since we were already at 36 weeks, the doctor said it was best to just deliver the baby that day. I freely admit that I went into a panic, imagining all the worst case scenarios. Even more important than our doctor and the neonatal pediatrician assuring us that our baby would be fine in the long run, it was Mrs. Zwicker's calm that brought me back from the ledge. She's the greatest.
Before I knew it, Mrs. Zwicker went into pre-op while I went into another room to don my best surgical gear for the impending c-section. Once in the operating room, I sat with Mrs. Zwicker, holding her hand and telling her how wonderful she was. Soon enough, the doctor told me to stand and look over the curtain to see our baby enter this world. I know that billions of others have had the pleasure of witnessing such a sight, but I cannot imagine anything more amazing than seeing one's own child literally emerge from its mother. Seeing our baby's head, then shoulders, then torso and finally legs and feet, is something that I will never forget. With all the blood and the way it was facing, not to mention the tears of joy in my eyes, I could not tell until our doctor declared its gender that we had a daughter. Mrs. Zwicker said through the past nine months that our baby was a girl. Sure enough, she was correct once again, and she wasted no time in telling me right there, "I told you so."
After the staff took her to the side and cleaned her and did whatever else they do when a baby is first born, I then got to hold my daughter, right next to Mrs. Zwicker's head. As the doctor told us earlier that day, it was a very good sign that we got to stay with our daughter for a good ten minutes or so. At least I think that's how long it was. I'm usually pretty good at keeping track of time without a clock but I was totally lost in the glory of the moment. By the way, I learned later that the time of birth was 2:25.
While Mrs. Zwicker was recuperating, I went upstairs to the neo-natal intensive care unit (pronounced "nik-you" by those in the know) to see our baby girl. She was long and lean, sixteen inches and a tad under three pounds to be exact, but otherwise healthy. She also had a full head of blonde hair. Okay, I will now pause so you can make your "she already has more hair than you do" cracks.
Mrs. Zwicker and I originally planned, if we were to have a girl, on naming her at a siyyum that NoahDaddy and I would make on our impending conclusion of Tractate Moed Katan. Well, with our daughter being a few weeks from going home so she could gain weight first, not to mention NoahDaddy's chronic absences from learning, we decided to just name her the next morning. We still plan on having the siyyum, at which point I will expound on whether one can console someone during the month after the loss of a wife if the widower has already remarried.
The next morning at shul, I gave our little girl her Hebrew name, Chava Emunah. Chava was Mrs. Zwicker's grandmother while Emunah is a name we just liked because it embodied the faith we did our best to maintain while trying to have a child. That same morning we announced the English name, Emma Faye. Both names come from Mrs. Zwicker's grandmothers.
The last few days have been an emotional roller coaster. There is nothing as amazing as seeing and holding our beautiful little Emma. On Friday night, Mrs. Zwicker and I each placed our hands on Emma's head and, with tears in our eyes, blessed her, asking that she follow in our Jewish foremothers' footsteps. On Shabbat afternoon, notwithstanding my less than stellar voice, I soothed Emma by singing to her and then learning the weekly Torah portion next to her incubator. I made sure she heard the part about honoring one's mother and father. Despite all of those and other moments, it has been to tough to leave her in the NICU. We cannot wait until Emma comes home with us for good.
Here is a picture of Emma at one day old in my arms. I'll try to post more pictures soon.
1 comment:
First of all, you've been cancelling for the past few days, not me.
Second, I'm shocked to read that none of your initial plans involved "preparing massive belated Happy Birthday party" for me.
Finally, I want to have a joint b-day party next year with Emma. I don't care what everyone else says, I'm NOT too big to play at Gymboree.
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