That last night was surreal. When family and friends had left and it was just B and I left in my hospital room, we tried to comprehend the reality of it all. That it was the last time it would be just the two of us. We watched a little TV and made idle conversation that belied our anxiety. In a few short hours, we would be parents! I wanted to take a shower, and B was exhausted from having been up since 5am when his alarm had went off for the workday so he laid down in the reclining chair by my bed and was soon dozing off. I took my shower which was made quite difficult from trying to protect the IV in my left hand. When I was done, I put a clean hospital gown on and put some mousse in my hair and dried it and then rang for the nurse to hook my monitors back up.
A few hours before Cooper was born
At that point, I too was exhausted and in spite of my excitement and anxiousness, I managed to dose off. It was around 2am. It seemed like mere minutes later I was awakened by a nurse moving the monitor around on my stomach. Drowsy and unconcerned I asked, "Oh, did I move and mess up the position of it (the monitor)?"
"I don't know, did you?" she asked in a short, uneasy tone.
"Oh, I'm not sure...I had just fallen asleep, I think..." I replied slowly.
As she applied some more of the cold gel and moved the monitor around on my belly her movements and facial expression became more and more fretful. Finally, she pushed the call button and in a desperate tone said, "Can someone help me get her on the monitor?!"
Within seconds, the overhead lights flipped on and the room filled with people. There must have been 10-12 of them...nurses, doctors, anesthesia, etc. The commotion had woke B up by then and he was sitting straight up in his chair by my bed. His eyes were large and confused. The seconds that passed as they moved the monitor around to no avail felt never ending. And all the while there was no comforting swoosh-swoosh of a heartbeat, of my baby's heartbeat, to be found. Just my own breathing which was growing increasingly louder and the static sound of the monitor being moved around on my abdomen. Someone grabbed an oxygen mask and I put it on with shaking hands. "Roll over on your side, roll over! Quick! Hurry!" They shouted. My own heart was beating wildly in my chest like it was instead a frightened bird trapped in there. Panic filled my body and clogged my throat and made it difficult to get my breath. Thoughts crowded my mind and I wondered if this was it...the end. If my baby was already gone and I'd never get to hear his cry or cuddle his warm body. I thought of all of the things we had made it through with this pregnancy; the diagnosis, the low fluid, decreased movement, and growth restriction, only to have it all end here. It felt like hours had passed...like time had slowed to a crawl, but finally, finally a heartbeat was detected and that reassuring rhythm once again filled the room. As quickly as all of those people had appeared they were gone, and B and I were left staring at one another in a jumbled mixture of confusion, fear, and relief. I was lying on my right side, still as a statue. The only sounds in the room were Cooper's (beautiful!) heartbeat and the 'ssshhhh' sound of the oxygen mask which I still wore and which was still turned up high. I stayed like that on my side for about 45 minutes until my bladder betrayed me and I called my nurse to help me to the bathroom. I went, and then laid back down minus the oxygen mask. I couldn't fall asleep again. I laid there and listened intently to that heart beat. About an hour or so later the swooshing slowed again. I looked at the screen and saw that Cooper's heart rate had fallen from a steady 118-120 beats per minute to 97, then to 90. The nurses were once again in my room and I was once again turning to my side. Thankfully, his heart quickly returned to normal rate. A doctor came in soon after. She said that even though my c-section was scheduled for 7am, she didn't feel comfortable waiting that long as Cooper's heart rate decelerations were indicating that he needed to be gotten out. It was around 3:45am. She said she had already called anesthesia and as soon as they could get there I would be taken back to be prepped for my c-section. This was more than alright with me as I wasn't sure I could handle anymore frightening episodes like what had occurred.
B preparing for the surgery
Soon after, I was taken to the operating room. An epidural and a spinal were placed and then I was lying on my back looking up at the bright overhead lights. A blue drape was put in place that blocked the view of most of my body and B was brought back in. A nasal cannula was placed in my nose for supplemental oxygen and then the procedure began. After some intense tugging and pressure (but no pain, thankfully!), he was out. At 4:51 am that morning Cooper Benjamin entered the world with a loud angry wail. It was then (and still is) the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in all of my time on this earth. Oh, how he cried! And upon hearing him, a multitude of emotions rained down on me. My heart swelled and relief washed over me and without hardly realizing it I was crying too. He was here, and he was okay! I couldn't stop crying. I'll never forget the sound of that first cry as long as I live. After several minutes, Cooper was cleaned up and B was allowed to hold him and bring him over for me to see. He carefully held him up near my face and with an incredulous tone said, "He's so little!" And then I saw him...his angry little face. His eyes were swollen from the delivery and were tightly shut. His mouth was drawn into a bit of a frown and he was without a doubt the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. He looked so mad!
Minutes after he was born
After I was allowed to see him, he was whisked away to the NICU (due to his prematurity and low birth weight), and I was taken to recovery. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. I drifted in and out of consciousness as exhaustion overtook me. I slept for a little while and then was taken to my room. Brandon went to the NICU to allow our families to see Cooper. After I woke up I concentrated on trying to move my legs which were still heavy and leaden from the epidural. I had to be able to stand on my own before I was allowed to go see my baby who was on another floor of the hospital. That afternoon I had regained feeling and was able to be taken in a wheelchair to see him.
A few hours after he was born
The first time I ever held my precious boy
That day, I wasn't thinking about a Down syndrome diagnosis. I was thinking about how relieved and blessed I was. I was thinking about how after all of the time I had spent dreaming of this day, dreaming of this little person, he was finally here and he was okay. Four months later, I would be lying if I said I never think of Ds...of course I do. But, when I do, it is in a very matter of fact way because it is a little part of our lives. The fear and pain of our initial diagnosis are just a memory. Every day as he develops his personality, Cooper amazes me more, and every day I continue to be blown away by the fact that just when I think I couldn't possibly love him any more, I do. In spite of the mystery that is the future, I don't worry about the unknown very often. My hopes are simple...I hope that Cooper will always know that he is loved tremendously, that he brings immeasurable joy to me and his daddy, and that no matter what life holds for us, he is my greatest achievement and my greatest dream made reality. I will spend my entire life trying to be deserving of the honor of being his mother<3
