FIVE

Today, Greg and I’s sweet baby girl, our lady bird, my honey bear, the magnificent drool nugget (that’s a new one), is five months old! Delilah Wren goes by many monikers (the least of which being her actual name), but what we really should call her is JOY, for she truly is the joy of our lives. Her sweet smile is a little ray of sunshine in our days. Hearing her laugh makes our already overflowing hearts burst, they're so full of happiness at the sound. Watching her learn and grow and achieve — well, it's just the best thing ever. She's changing so much every day and the way these past five months have just ticked on by so quickly has my anxious mama heart beating fast (don’t blink, you’ll miss something!) and my head in a state of disbelief. Has five months gone by already? I find myself wanting to freeze time, to hold onto those extra tender moments and sleepy snuggles just a bit longer, since I know they won’t last forever. And yet, time must continue on because I can't wait to see what she'll accomplish next… and who she will become.

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Since Delilah doesn’t have a 5-month check-up with her pediatrician, we don’t have the “official” stats. But we do know she is clocking in at over 13 pounds now and this string bean has definitely been growing lengthwise too, since her 0-3 month footed pajamas are a little too short. We’re about to transition into her 3-6 month sleeper options to avoid scrunched toes, but since it is always bittersweet to pack baby clothes away I try to put off the task of updating her wardrobe as long as possible!

On the activity front, here's a round-up of a few of Delilah’s favorite things this month (in addition to all of the faves from last month):

• saying “hello” to “her” plants hanging in the stairway (she tends to greet the leaves by grabbing on and tugging hard, uh oh!) and also looking out the nearby window to say “hello, WORLD!” :) 
• chewing everything, but especially her Baby Banana (she finally decided she likes it, and is more open to trying some of the many other teethers we have purchased, likely because her gums are really bothering her, poor baby)
• making the light-up star toy in her play gym go "twinkle, twinkle"
• squealing with delight when touching and subsequently pulling Daddy’s hair, including stroking his hairy arm during diaper changes! (she’s so fascinated, probably because Mama’s arms are smooth, haha)
• touching/squeezing/slapping Mama’s face (much to my chagrin)
• watching us eat (and trying to grab Mama’s glass when she’s drinking, eek!); she was endlessly amused when I ate a sandwich and showed her each time I took a bite
• Puppy Dog Pals: I try to limit TV but she does seem to enjoy Bingo and Rolly’s antics! “We’re going on a mission, going on a mission!”
• giving her real-life pups treats (this is something I tried just this week, and Delilah did well holding the treat and the dogs, especially patient Cali, did well to carefully take it from her hand)
• rolling (roly-roly-poly, as we call it) with assistance into tummy time and tolerating it much better than before! (we’re on the cusp of actual enjoyment folks, and one time she even rolled out of it herself, apparently on purpose since she didn’t get upset by the swift change in perspective)
• getting serenaded by Mommy or Daddy (she likes it so much that Mama singing “Amazing Grace” no longer seems to work as a means to get her to sleep at night... it just makes her smile)

The Day a Miracle was Made

A year ago today, we had our egg retrieval. It was a day that was highly anticipated and then quickly became one of the worst days in our infertility journey. They only got four eggs, and we were heartbroken. The outlook seemed bleak. The odds weren't in our favor.  After 11 days of injections, I felt my hopefulness slipping away. The sadness was suffocating. But then, just as it always does, the dark, hard night awoke to the light of a new day that brought incredible news: All four eggs fertilized! Hallelujah! Now, today, looking back at Feb. 24, 2017, I don't just remember a day that threatened to crush my spirit. To steal my strength. I celebrate a day that tested and grew my faith. I celebrate a day that a miracle happened, during (and in spite of) those hours that my belief wavered. Because today isn't the anniversary of "egg retrieval day." It's conception day. Few people know exactly when their babies were conceived but, thanks to IVF, we do. It was a little after noon on Feb. 24, in a high tech embryology lab in San Ramon. And I believe without question that God's hand was in the mix, creating our little miracle, knitting her together from each part of us and preparing her for my womb. The crazy thing is, if our two "snowflakes" — our frozen embryos, our precious embabies — one day also become tiny humans, they will share the same conception date. Isn't science amazing? So yes, Feb. 24 was more than just the day they retrieved my eggs. It was so much more than I even realized at the time. On a most fundamental level, it was the day that Greg and I's family began. Moreover, it was the day that God reminded me that He is bigger than my fears, He is steadfast in the face of my doubts and He is certainly not intimidated by "the odds." With him, anything is possible. Infertility can be overcome, families can be made. With an egg — and faith the size of a mustard seed.

FOUR

Delilah Wren is four months old, rocking chambray and longing for spring. (We’re wishing that lovely warm weather we had earlier this month would return!)

This lady bird weighs almost 12 lbs these days (she clocked in at 11 lbs 5 oz a week ago) and is likely measuring 23 inches since she's almost too long for her sleep sack swaddle. (We'll get official stats at her well check on Monday.) **ETA: At her Feb. 26 appointment, she weighed 12 lbs 2 oz and measured 24.8 inches long!**

A few of Delilah’s favorite things this month:

• shaking her rattle, grabbing her links, crunching her crinkle book 
• chewing her fist (hello, teething!)
• petting Jasper
• turning the pages of board books when Mama says "do you want to turn the page?”
• watching Daddy make silly faces (and sounds) 
• taking a warm bath  
• playing with Mama's hands
• grabbing Daddy's nose
• and, apparently, Olympic figure skaters (despite efforts to the contrary, she is recently obsessed with the TV, whoops!)

Delilah has been more playful and active this month, but she is also super determined and gets frustrated when she doesn't do something perfectly the first time. (Uh oh, just like mommy!) Baby girl is getting chattier, but she is often more reserved and observant — she seems to be taking it all in. She's extra smiley in the morning, she always coos and gurgles at Daddy's funny expressions, and she's been known to smile up at Mama when she's trying to sing her to sleep. And yesterday, we got some first little belly laughs! Our sweet girl is growing and learning so much every day and coming into her own. We can't wait to see what she'll do next!

Delilah's Birth Story, Part II

Missed Part I? Catch up here.
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Delilah’s birth was abrupt, to say the least. There were none of the usual get-ready-you’re-really-having-a-baby warnings like my water breaking or contractions that intensify over many, many hours. I didn’t labor, but by no means was her delivery easy! 

My doctor said that, in his 25-year career, he had never had happen what happened to me. Complications with an external cephalic version are very rare — less than a 1 percent chance! A placental abruption was not something anyone expected, but all the medical professionals who heard my story later assured me that I had been in the right place at the right time. Given how easily the placenta tore away from the uterine wall, it could have happened any time — at home, probably— and the outcome would have been very different. Fortunately I was in a hospital (the one of my choosing, no less), with an IV and an epidural already on board.

I knew the risks associated with a version, but I also knew they were unlikely and I had total confidence in my doctor. So while it crossed my mind to go ahead and pack the hospital bag, I didn’t. Greg and I truly didn’t think we would need it! I can now attest that you really don’t need to bring anything with you to the hospital. There are certainly things that are nice to have, but you can get by without much! For a week I had nothing more than the clothes I came in. I didn’t get to use the special (and expensive) hospital gown I ordered… I didn’t even have the luxury of my own socks. I donned hospital-issued apparel. When Greg was finally able to go home after Delilah was born (around midnight), he said he would try to rustle up all the items on my “hospital bag” packing list. But I told him not to bother. I just needed him to go and come back as quickly as possible. I told him to just grab my contact lens case and solution, my glasses, and a few toiletries so I’d have a clean face and fresh breath. All that mattered was our sweet baby girl, and us both being there for her.

The hours and days following Delilah’s birth were a whirlwind. We didn’t get a free moment to call our parents to tell them the news until about four hours after she was born! 

Immediately following her arrival, I wasn’t able to hold Delilah right away, not just because I was on an operating table and being sewn up but because I was shaking uncontrollably. Something about the medication they had given me for the version, coupled with the actual c-section, caused my arms to shake vigorously and my teeth to chatter as though I was freezing cold — even though I wasn’t. When the nurse brought Delilah over to me, and when Greg held her next to me, I longed to hold my baby in my arms but I was afraid I would drop her I was shaking that badly. I asked the medical team around me, when will I stop shaking? They apologetically replied that my body would calm eventually. The feeling slowly faded over the next hour or so… because I was still trembling in recovery.

The three of us in recovery, an hour and a half after Delilah made her grand debut via emergency c-section Oct. 23, 2017.

That’s when I finally got to hold my girl skin-to-skin, and we had some lovely bonding time just the three of us: Mommy, Daddy, and (at that time) yet-to-be named baby girl. But this bliss was cut short when the nurse tested Delilah’s blood sugar levels. They were dangerously low; they needed to give my hour-old baby a bottle of formula. I was heartbroken and couldn’t watch as the nurse fed her. I turned away from the sight, tears streaming down my cheeks. After some time had passed, the nurse tested her blood sugar again and it was still too low. Delilah had to go to the NICU for an IV. I was still a bloody mess; I had to stay in recovery. I told Greg to go with our daughter, so she wouldn’t be left alone. While Daddy endured watching the NICU nurse poke his daughter’s tiny hand countless times, trying to find a vein, a still numb-from-the-waist-down Mommy got a long and thorough sponge bath from two kind recovery nurses who were taken aback by the sheer volume of blood.

Skin-to-skin with Delilah in the NICU. See that tiny IV?

After getting cleaned up, I was wheeled on a gurney from recovery to the NICU and reunited with Greg and Delilah. It was then, several hours after her birth, that I was finally able to try breastfeeding — while also trying to avoid pulling on the IV and monitor wires attached to my baby. When I first saw Delilah laying in the clear NICU bassinet, surrounded by monitors, a heat lamp overhead, I told Greg to take a photo. He asked, did I really want a picture of her like this? Yes. It’s her story.

Delilah hooked up to monitors in the NICU the night she was born.

Delilah’s stint in the NICU was expected to be short — she was deemed to be rather healthy aside from the low blood sugar — but over the next few days it seemed that new problems kept cropping up that prolonged her stay. First, she had some reflux issues and, because of her prematurity, she couldn’t clear her airway of the fluid, causing her to “desat" a few times. In layman’s terms, she couldn’t breathe, her blood oxygen level was dropping (desaturating) and a NICU nurse had to rush in to clear her airway for her so she could breathe again. Fortunately, we were never there to witness this frightening occurrence. But just knowing about the incidents left Greg and I terrified for weeks even after coming home that she would “desat” in her sleep.

Another complication was that Delilah was jaundiced, which is why she looks a little yellow in all of her early photos. Her bilirubin levels were on the cusp of needing phototherapy treatment. Poor baby had to endure several blood draws over the course of several days to monitor the situation, but after one good poop to literally get the bilirubin out of her system that problem was taken off the watch list.

Yellow, jaundiced baby.

While Delilah’s blood sugar eventually stabilized and her IV was removed two days after birth, another problem emerged: she was losing weight. It’s normal for babies to drop as much as 10 percent of their weight after birth, but Delilah had lost 13 percent, going from 5 pounds 9 ounces to 4 pounds 12 ounces. The neonatologist recommended a strict formula feeding schedule (with limited breastfeeding time) to get weight on her quick.

IV removed, but Delilah looked skeletal.

Pinpricks from placing her IV.

Greg feeds Delilah a 2-ounce bottle of formula. 

During our baby’s stay in the NICU, Greg and I felt a little like zombies as we walked the hospital halls back and forth between our room in the Mother Baby area and the NICU. We made the trek every three hours so that I could try to breastfeed Delilah, and strangely we never saw any other parents making the trip. It seems all the other new parents in the Mother Baby wing had their little ones in their room, not the NICU.

Fortunately, I was healing from my c-section rather well. Delilah was born at 6 in the evening on Oct. 23 and I was able to move from the gurney to a wheelchair early the next morning. Gratefully — and surprisingly — I wasn’t having much if any pain, though the nurses encouraged me to keep accepting the pain meds. I used the wheelchair for about a day but after enough successful trips from hospital bed to bathroom and back again I decided to give walking to the NICU a go. All the nurses were shocked by how quickly I was recovering; one called me a “rock star.” I sure didn’t feel like it (or look it!). All I cared about was getting to my baby.

When we weren’t in the NICU, we tried to rest. But the days felt like a constant barrage of visits from doctors and nurses. We were definitely suffering from information overload, and we scarcely had any alone time with our new little babe. Everyone kept asking what her name was but we hadn’t had an opportunity to really sit down, marvel at our daughter and finalize the decision. There were two frontrunners before birth but I wanted to make sure it felt right. I wanted to see her, hold her, get to know her, and yet the stress of her delivery had put an unexpected cloud over the whole experience. Finally, on October 25, while Greg and I had some precious quiet time with our daughter, and I breastfed her, we came to a decision. We both agreed that we had always felt she was Delilah. Delilah Wren Thilgen.

Skin-to-skin after a breastfeeding session in the NICU on Oct. 25, with our freshly-minted Delilah Wren.

I wrote our daughter's name on the message board in our room (and in the NICU, too).

Though Delilah dealt with many issues in her first days on earth, the main issue keeping her in the NICU was the reflux/desatting incidents. And honestly, we were afraid to have her released from the watchful eyes (and monitors!) of the NICU too early if she was going to continue to not be able to clear her airway. We had already gotten used to, and comforted by, those monitors that showed her heart rate and blood oxygen levels. So when the doctors decided to keep her another night in the NICU we were slightly relieved. But we were also worried, because we didn’t know how long she’d have to stay if she kept desatting.

But on Thursday, Oct. 26, Delilah finally got the green light to bust out of the NICU. Although they told us she was going to be released, we were surprised by how quickly it happened. So when the NICU nurse suddenly wheeled a bassinet into our room, I cried the happiest tears. Greg and I embraced; our girl was finally with us.

Out of the NICU and in mama's arms, the morning of Oct. 26.

Finally, on Friday, four days after Delilah’s birth, a technician came in to perform her hearing scan. I kept wondering when the hospital would do this routine newborn test. (I assume they wanted to wait until she was out of the NICU.) Greg and I were optimistic; we had witnessed her respond to loud noises several times already. But we were nervous, too. Maybe she had some hearing loss after all? I held my breath as I watched the nurse conduct the test. Greg and I sat close on the hospital bed, looking on in silence. My parents and brother also happened to be in the room at the time. We all were quiet, waiting. The tension was palpable. Then came the results: she passed! Such sweet relief. 

With my incision healing nicely, I was technically discharged from the hospital on Friday, but I was permitted to continue to stay in our room since Delilah was still a patient. The next day, Oct. 28, with Delilah’s weight going up and her jaundice continuing to subside, she also received her discharge papers — we were allowed to go home. 

Swaddled to perfection by hospital nurses, on the morning of her release.

Dressed in a newborn-sized footed pajama (sleeves rolled way up!), ready to leave the hospital. 

Our little bird was just a tiny thing at 5 pounds even. The going-home outfit I had planned to dress her in was size 0-3 months — much too big. The smallest outfit I had for baby was a gifted newborn-sized pajama (the only one I had!) that my best friend brought to the hospital from our house, and even still Delilah was swimming in it! Thankfully our infant carrier was designed to fit preemies, and the hospital even performed a test to make sure Delilah could ride safely in it. And yet Greg and I still fretted over whether or not we strapped her into the seat correctly. That 30-minute drive from the hospital in Walnut Creek to our house in Alameda felt like the longest car ride ever, and I spent the entire time hunched over the car seat stressed, eyes fixed on my little miracle, making sure she was breathing.

Motherhood and worrying go hand in hand.

I detest this photo of myself BUT this is what you look like after six days in the hospital. When you're going home with your sweet baby, you slap a smile on your bare, haggard face and capture the moment.

In the car, on her way home to Alameda...

We arrived home around 5 p.m. and, I imagine like most first-time parents home from the hospital, we were feeling overjoyed, anxious, wholly unprepared and exhausted. I didn’t sleep a wink that night as I stood vigil over my baby girl, jumping at every noise that came from her bassinet and periodically staring at her to watch her chest rise and fall. Each movement brought a sense of reassurance — she is stronger than she looks. And that first long, sleepless night at home served as a reminder — I am stronger than I think. We are stronger than we think. Together, Greg and I will do anything for our sweet Delilah Wren. 

Conceiving, carrying and delivering our baby girl was a difficult yet amazing journey that tested and strengthened our marriage, our faith. But it is true what they say: this is the greatest adventure of our lives. It began Oct. 23. Any hardship, any sadness, we experienced in bringing our baby into the world and getting her home is all wiped away with this simple truth: parenting and loving Delilah is the very. best. thing.

Tuckered out on her first night home, Oct. 28.

THREE

Our little lady is three months old today! What they say is true: The days are long but the years (or in this case, months!) are short. It is hard to believe that Delilah Wren is a quarter-of-a-year old already! How can that be? Time is flying by, as it does. You blink and things change. A year ago this babe was just a long-held dream, one I decided to share with the world via this blog. My first posts were published in January 2017. Today, my dream is a little person, with a sweet and sassy personality showing through more and more with each passing day.

And, yes. She was totally worth the wait!

Having just cracked the 10 pound mark yesterday, and measuring 22 inches long at her most recent visit to the pediatrician a week ago, our little bird is outgrowing her newborn clothes and finally fits into this cute 0-3 month onesie that I purchased for our pregnancy announcement. She is taller than she is heavy, so we will definitely be graduating to the next size up in pajamas soon! Or just wearing lots of pants with feet freeeee! :) 

Delilah is smiling much more now, multiple times a day, which is such a treat, and she even seems to be trying to figure out how to laugh with the occasional burst of energetic sound. She is extra smiley in the mornings and when Daddy makes funny noises. 

She still loves her WubbaNub something fierce but she also has a new bunny lovey friend that she likes to hold. Baby girl knows her hands are her hands and — despite the danger of her razor-sharp claws fingernails that she tends to wield wildly — we've been trying to make sure her paws are free from mitts more often so that she can touch, explore and grab. She clutches the bottle (or our hand on the bottle) during feedings and, while she sometimes misses, Delilah is determined to get the pacifier back in her mouth on her own when she loses it. 

She is also more interested in playtime as well as her play gym now, looking directly at the toys dangling above her while waving her arms and kicking her legs. She is tracking objects with her eyes (when she's interested) and even appears to be looking at the book during story time (when she's not falling asleep!). Hush Little Polar Bear and Corduroy have been on heavy rotation. Tummy time is getting better too, even though she still mostly hates it. 

Our sensitive girl is easily overwhelmed and overstimulated. Diaper and outfit changes annoy her and bath time is yet to be as calming as we'd like it to be. She can go from giddy to irritated in a flash, and when she wants her food she wants it NOW. But a bit of bouncing, soft strokes on the head, and a suck on the pacifier can usually soothe her. And if she just won't relax or fall asleep we ask Alexa to play Ed Sheeran (ha!). While daytime naps are hit-or-miss (and usually short-lived thanks to the dogs and the postman), Delilah is a pretty good sleeper at night (knock on wood!), hitting the hay around 8 or 9 p.m. and snoozing until about 4 or 5 in the morning. For that, Mommy and Daddy are grateful!

All told, life with a baby is a roller coaster. She's up, she's down. We're up, we're down. The three of us, we're all learning and growing. The days are long, and they aren't easy. But, without a doubt, they are so, so worth it.

Delilah's Newborn Shoot

Our little bird, Delilah Wren, had her newborn shoot on Nov. 29, 2017 at home in Alameda, Calif. Having dreamt for so long of welcoming a baby into our lives, Greg and I agreed that hiring a professional photographer to capture our precious wee one in all her squishy newborn glory was an important and necessary investment. (We also planned to do a maternity shoot but, alas, that was scheduled for the day after our sweet girl was born!) Corinne McCombs Photography was the absolute perfect choice for this special moment; she did such a beautiful job. Due to Delilah's sudden arrival almost a month early, we weren't quite ready to do a newborn shoot in the days after returning home from the hospital. The nursery wasn't fully done and, as new parents of a late pre-term baby with some weight and feeding issues, we were positively stressed and sleep-deprived. So it wasn't until Delilah was five weeks old that she gave a (likely gas-induced) grin for the camera. Even though she wasn't as "new" as most babies are during newborn shoots, she was still fairly sleepy and relatively amicable to being posed. And Corinne was a total pro — patient, kind, generous with her time and, because she's a mama of three, so good with Delilah. She's seriously the baby whisperer! Delilah looks adorable, of course, in every photo (new mamas are allowed to not-so-humbly brag about their children, yes?). But even more impressively, despite my self-critical nature and worries about how I'd look in the photos, I am in love with so many of the images Corinne captured of our family. Greg and I will forever cherish these photographs and here, if you'd like to see, is an ample collection of our favorites. Enjoy!

Delilah's Birth Story, Part I

Delilah’s entrance into this world was completely unexpected. Traumatic, really. Her birth and the days following were some of the hardest and saddest of my life. And yet, of course, meeting her was the happiest moment of my life, too. I cried tears of joy. Therein lies the common theme running throughout Delilah’s birth story: a mixture of emotions, a pendulum swinging wildly between immense gladness and profound grief.

I had hoped and planned for an unmedicated labor and vaginal delivery. A “natural” birth. We all know how that turned out. (Spoiler: It didn’t.) But let’s back up. Because Delilah’s birth story doesn’t start on Oct. 23. Her sudden early arrival into our lives was put into motion days before.

Aside from the fact that we had to use IVF to conceive, I considered my pregnancy rather uneventful. But one issue did crop up that threatened to throw a wrench in my “natural” birth plans. At my 20 week ultrasound, Greg and I learned that the placenta was too close to my cervix and that if it didn’t move out of the way I would need to deliver via cesarean section. This issue with the placenta usually resolves itself as the uterus (and baby) grows and fortunately we found out that — finally! — at almost 34 weeks, it had moved the requisite two centimeters away from my cervix. Hooray! However, at the same appointment, we learned that there was now a new reason I might need a c-section: baby girl was breech.

We hoped that she would turn on her own, and I tried to give her a nudge in the right direction by doing an exercise designed to get my “butt in the air,” as recommended by my OB. (On the ground, on all fours, head to the floor!) But no such luck. At my Oct. 20 checkup, Delilah was still breech. Since I was 36 weeks pregnant, the chances that she would flip on her own were slim to none. Baby girl was starting to outgrow her cramped quarters and my amniotic fluid would only decrease in the weeks ahead, giving her even less wiggle room. I had already read up on external cephalic version — a procedure in which the baby’s position in the womb is manipulated manually, from the outside — and my midwife recommended that we schedule an ECV for the following Monday if I still wanted a shot at a vaginal delivery.

So on what was the first day of my maternity leave, Greg and I drove to the hospital in Walnut Creek and went up to Labor & Delivery for my 9 a.m. appointment. (When obtaining visitor badges from security the guard asked, “Are you delivering today?” to which we quickly replied, “oh, no!” I’m sure I made a joke about needing baby girl to cook a bit longer. And then, I kid you not, as I approached check-in at L&D a nurse spied my still comparatively small baby bump and commented, “You don’t even look pregnant!” Little did anyone know that I wouldn’t be pregnant for much longer.)

After getting prepped, my OB, Dr. Wells, came in to perform the ECV. But after poking around on my tummy — to get a feel for baby’s position, to see how moveable her head was and to see how I would tolerate the procedure — he gave devastating news: He wouldn’t do the version. Not because of the baby but because of me. Despite my attempts to relax, I was tensing up and visibly uncomfortable with the moderate amount of pressure he was applying to my abdomen. My doctor felt that, whether I wanted to or not, I would fight the procedure. My abdominal muscles were too tight. In order to turn the baby Dr. Wells really needed to dig into my belly and, given how I was reacting, he felt that if he went through with the version I would be in excruciating pain, and most likely it would not be successful.

I was heartbroken and pleaded with my doctor to go ahead, insisting that I would calm down, that I would relax, that I would get into a “zen” state. I didn’t want a c-section and I would bear the pain of the version. Dr. Wells was unconvinced and, though disappointed, I trusted his experience and decision. I knew going into the procedure that he wouldn’t do it if he believed it would be unsuccessful or pose a risk to the baby. But he did offer me an alternative: I could try the version with an epidural.

I had conflicting feelings about this option, though. It seemed counter to everything I was hoping to achieve. I wanted an unmedicated birth, so why would I get an epidural in order to have one? We tentatively scheduled to return to the hospital that evening, at 5:30, for the epidural-assisted version, and in the meantime Greg and I went home to further think over this option. I spent the rest of the morning and that afternoon debating back and forth. I called my mom. I texted my best friend. Greg was on board with whatever I decided. Ultimately, it seemed to me that an epidural was inevitably. Either get it for the ECV or get it for a c-section. The ability to have a vaginal birth was important to me, so I decided to forge ahead with a medicated external cephalic version.

We drove back to the hospital and I was prepped once again. The anesthesiologist came in to start the epidural, which was painful but not unbearably so. Still, my sweet husband teared up watching me have to get the very thing I had been trying to avoid. I was also given a shot with medication aimed at relaxing the uterus. When the time came to start, the epidural was still mild — I wasn’t in labor, after all. They just needed me to be numb enough to be comfortable and not resist the version. After once again checking out baby on the ultrasound monitor, Dr. Wells fully lubed up my belly so it was nice and slippery. He placed his hand low on my abdomen and did one small upward movement. Immediately, I felt a wet warmth between my legs, but it took me a few seconds to realize that I needed to communicate this feeling to my doctor.

“Something is happening down there,” I said. “Something is coming out of me.”

The doctor lifted the sheet across my lap and his face said it all. The way he looked at the nurse, stunned and concerned, I knew what was coming. What I didn’t know was why, but I found out later that I had a placental abruption. With one small movement gently shifting upward baby's bottom, my placenta had torn away from the uterine wall and the fluid I felt pouring out of me was blood — a lot of it.

Dr. Wells took a long breath before speaking.

“Well, I think the best thing to do is get you delivered.”

And with that I went into a strange, trance-like state. A weird sense of calm washed over me. I let my head fall back into the bed pillow and stared at the ceiling. I knew I had no control over what happened next. Greg, on the other hand, was hysterical. He leapt out of his chair, his hands grasping his head in disbelief, a look of confusion and fear on his face. This part is a bit of a blur, but I think I told Greg “it’ll be OK” as they wheeled me out of the procedure room, straight across the hall into the operating room.

It all happened so fast that Greg couldn’t come with me, but luckily I was already prepped for a c-section. The IV and epidural were already started. There was a flurry of activity around me, as the medical team finished prepping me and themselves for surgery, and the anesthesiologist upped my epidural. Within minutes, I could feel Dr. Wells cutting into me. Yep, I could feel everything, I just didn’t feel any pain. But that didn’t make it any less scary. I kept asking for my husband, I wished to hold his hand. I could feel the doctor spreading apart my insides in order to get to the baby and although it didn’t hurt it was a frightening sensation. I think I started crying out, “Oh my god, oh my god,” and a nurse asked if I was OK, to which I exclaimed, “It doesn’t hurt, it just feels crazy!”

Next thing I know, I felt — or at least, I believe I felt — the doctor pulling Delilah out of me. I couldn’t see anything, but I distinctly remember visualizing what I was feeling. And yet, because of the shock of it all, it took a moment for me to realize that the baby I heard crying was mine.

She was here.

In a matter of minutes, Delilah was born. At 6:08 p.m.

Remarkably, only nine minutes had elapsed from the time they wheeled me out of the procedure room to when Delilah took her first breath. Nine minutes. Those nine minutes simultaneously flew by and felt like forever. 

Outfitted in scrubs, Greg was finally allowed into the room about five minutes later. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to cut the umbilical cord but he did get to see and hold our daughter first. She was weighed and measured and probably cleaned off some while I lay on the operating table, still in that surreal state, a bit disconnected from reality. I didn't snap out of it until a nurse eventually brought Delilah out from behind the surgical drape. She was bundled up in a blanket. All I could see was her tiny, sweet face and I instantly broke into heavy sobs. 

A few of those tears were for the way everything unfolded; it wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. But most of those tears were out of true joy at the sight of my girl. I never really imagined what she would look like, and seeing her for the first time felt a little like a surprise. 

She was early, but she was perfect. I wasn’t ready, but she was mine.

There's more to the story... Stay tuned for Part II! (Update: Here's the link to the rest of the story!)