About an hour or so later, the nurse returned and said that it still wasn't recovering as quickly so they were just going to monitor it.
I got nervous with the next contraction as I watched the monitor. Though I had an epidural and didn't need to breathe for the pain, I realized that if I didn't do my "breathing" exercises that I was going to have an anxiety attack. It was late - maybe 1:00 AM - and I didn't want to wake up Steve who was also told by the nurses to get some rest.
So I breathed. And I watched. And I prayed. And it looked to me like his heart rate was recovering more quickly than it had been.
And so even though the nurses thought I was crazy, I went ahead and continued with my "proper breathing" through every contraction in the hopes to get my son more oxygen and help his heartrate recover. If there was something I could do to help him, I wanted to be able to do it.
Besides... stuck inside my womb, I was really the only one who could. So I kept breathing, and Steve and I watched on his monitor as his heartrate recovered a few seconds faster than it did before I had started to breathe.
I stayed up and got little rest the night before my son was born because he needed me.
|Me and my mini-posse.|
She kept crying until she was wrapped up in her newborn swaddle. Steve gave the nurses her name - Evangeline Margaret - and they handed her to him, Soon after that they - Steve and the nurses - came over to me and the three of us had our first mother-father-daughter moment.
While we were being all happy and excited, Evie started to cough and sputter a little bit. Because she was born C-Section, she didn't have all the "junk" in her system squeezed out, and though the nurses had suctioned out quite a bit of it - there was still some left in her nasal passages that was dripping down her throat.
"Hey, guys - I think she's trying to tell you something," our OB leaned over and said to the nurses.
They took my baby away from me to give her another good suction, but she still was coughing a bit. The lead nurse took a look at her and paused, "Well," she said, "I think that she just needs some good skin-to-skin contact with Mom, and she'll be good."
"Great, Mom's almost ready to head to recovery," our OB replied. "Sound good, Mom?"
It definitely sounded good to me. If there was something I could do to help my daughter, I wanted to do it. What seemed like moments later I was in the recovery room with my tiny Evie-girl laid against my chest, her chubby little cheek resting snugly against my skin.
The snorting stopped and easy breathing came. When the nurse checked on me, she said "See? She just needed some skin-to-skin with her Mom."
She needed me.
|L-R: My mom, Evie, me, Steve, Will|
Moms sleep beside to keep monsters away and stay awake to make sure everyone gets home OK.
Moms worry, moms get excited, moms pray harder than probably anyone else.
|Sleeping on the airplane... too hyper for Daddy, crashed for Mommy.|
I needed my mom. At almost 34 years old, I needed my mom. I needed to know my son would be spoiled by his Nana and I needed to know that when my husband and I would come home with our new daughter that we'd be taken care of by the one person who had always taken care of me. The person who, when I was 20 years old and suffering from a bad cold in college, showed up at my door on her way to work one morning with chicken soup, orange juice, cold medicine, a puzzle book, and a box of tea. That's the person I needed.
Almost 34 years later, and I still need my mom sometimes. Sometimes for big things, sometimes for small things, but I still have times that I need my mom. I always will.
Today, we celebrate the hardest working women in life business.
Happy Mother's Day.
|L-R: My Nana D., baby Me, and my Mom|