46. Longest Ten Minutes of my Life
forty-six
Longest Ten Minutes of my Life
Leah
D o you know how terrifying it is to be lying on an operating table while a doctor basically rearranges your organs? I’m trying my best to keep it together, but I’m not doing a great job. Surprisingly, it’s not me that I’m worried about.
It’s the baby.
Guilt overwhelms me because for a good chunk of this pregnancy, I felt indifferent. At the beginning, I was even resentful that I was sharing my body with something that made me sick. The vomiting, the soreness, and the fatigue all overwhelmed me. I never really got to bond with the baby, and now, I may never get to.
One of the nurses gives Dylan a stool so that he can sit by my head and try to keep me calm.
When I told him I loved him, I meant it. I feel so dumb for not saying it before now. It shouldn’t take fear of death for me to confess my true feelings.
What does that say about a person?
Worry about that later, Leah…when you aren’t in the middle of a crisis.
After I told Dylan I loved him, the doctors and nurses got right to work, not giving us much time to talk.
Now, he leans over me, rubbing my head through the shower cap-looking thing they put on me.
He whispers, “I didn’t get to say it before, but I love you too, Leah. I love you so fucking much. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”
“Dylan, I’m scared.”
“I know, baby. But you’re so strong, and so is our daughter. Everything is going to be alright.”
I tell him, “I need you to stay up here by my head. I don’t want you to see what I look like on the inside.”
He laughs. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
They’re moving around for what feels like an eternity, but honestly, it’s probably only about ten minutes or so. It’s the longest ten minutes of my entire life.
Dylan watches the doctors and tells me what is happening since all I can see is the giant blue sheet blocking my view.
Finally, he says, “She’s out. They’ve got her. You should see all her hair! ”
A team of people come grab her and take her across the operating room.
“Why isn’t she crying?” I ask, panicked.
“It’s okay. They’re working on her. Let’s just let the doctors do their thing.”
I hold my breath, scared that the sound of my breathing will keep me from being able to hear what’s going on. The doctors put me back together, but I’m paying no attention at this point.
Why the fuck isn’t she crying?
I prepare myself for the worst.
But then, she lets out a loud wail. Moments later, she’s screaming her head off.
I exhale a sigh of relief and tell Dylan, “Go over there and check on her.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine. Go see our daughter.”
He disappears from my line of sight, and I thank God for letting this situation not take a turn for the worst. I’ve never been very religious, but I feel like I need to thank someone for this moment.
A couple minutes later, Dylan walks over with our daughter wrapped up in a blanket in his arms.
He looks down at her. “Let’s go see Mommy.”
Sitting back down, he holds her up so that I can see her. I’ve pictured what she would look like a million times, but I never thought she would be this perfect.
“She’s beautiful,” I say as tears stream down my face.
“She is,” he agrees. “She’s everything.”
Less than an hour later, they have moved me out of the OR and into a normal hospital room. The doctors put me back together like Humpty Dumpty, and I’m starting to get the feeling back in my lower half. Dylan helped me do a quick sponge off and then put my hair up. I won’t be in any beauty pageants anytime soon, but It’ll do.
Dylan sits on the side of the bed and leans in for a soft kiss. “You were a fucking rockstar.”
“I didn’t do all that much.”
“Baby, they took you apart and put you back together again. You carried our daughter for eight months. And you handled a stressful situation like a champ. All of those things make you a fucking rockstar.”
“I’m glad she’s here, but I wish she would’ve waited a little while to make her appearance. The house isn’t ready. We don’t even have everything that we need.”
He holds my hand. “I don’t want you to worry about any of that. We will figure it out.”
I’m about to argue with him about why we should worry about that, but I completely forget when the nurse comes walking in rolling the bassinet with our daughter in it.
“We doing okay in here?” She asks.
“We’re good,” I tell her. “How is she doing? ”
“She’s a little small since she popped out of the oven early, but besides that, she’s perfectly healthy. We’ll keep an eye on her the next couple days, but she’s great.”
She leaves us alone, and Dylan picks up our baby girl and hands her to me. She’s so little.
With her in my arms, I look down at her cute little face.
She looks back at me with her big brown eyes that match Dylan’s. In fact, she looks a lot like him. Brown eyes. Dark hair. Cute little cheeks that I’m sure will have his dimples.
Dylan looks at his phone. “Oh shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I texted Mom before you went into surgery and forgot to let her know what was going on. She’s in the waiting room.”
“Go talk to her. We’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” He practically jogs out of the room.
I look down once again. “That’s your dad. He’s kind of like a giant golden retriever, but he will be your biggest cheerleader. He will love you just like he loves me.”
I stare at her as she makes cute little noises. “You gave your daddy and me quite the scare. You were ready to come into the world, and you weren’t taking no for an answer. You’re going to be hard headed just like your momma.”
Eight months of agony led up to this moment. And it was one-hundred percent worth it. Looking down at her, I realize that I would do anything for her. I would burn down the world for her .
I’m still not entirely sure what I’m doing as a mom, but seeing her face makes me know that I’ll do whatever I can to figure it out.
The thought that something bad could have happened, and I wouldn’t have this moment makes my eyes fill with tears. “I love you, kid. I guess you’re going to need a name, huh? What do you think your name should be?”
Dylan walks back in a few minutes later, and he’s alone.
“Where’s your mom?” I ask.
“She and Michelle went to go do a couple of things. I told them we were good, and the baby is fine. They said they’ll give us a few hours to ourselves and will come back in the morning.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want to hold her?”
“Are you ready to give her up?”
“No.” I laugh. “She’s just too cute.”
He slides onto the bed next to me and puts his arm around me. “How about I hold you, and you hold her?”
“Perfect.”
“Have you thought of any names yet?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply.
“What do you think she looks like?”
I look up at him. “I think she looks like you. But the name Dylan is already taken. What goes well with the last name Lawson?”
“You want to give her my last name?” He asks.
I shrug. “Might as well. It might be my last name one day too.”
“First, you have my baby, and now, you are saying that one day, you’ll marry me? Man, you have made me so fucking happy today.” He grins.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s figure out this baby name. Hmm.” I think. “How about L names?”
“Lacey? Lois? Layla? Luna?”
“Luna!” I stop him. “I love that.”
“Luna it is.”