Born: Sunday, June 1st, 12:36 p.m.
Weight: 4 lb., 12 oz. (Plump compared with my hopes for a four-pounder!)
Length: Good question. She was 18 and 1/4" today, so I bet she was about that last Sunday.
Gory Information: After a gorgeous day on Saturday, John and I were up late watching a movie in the bedroom when I suddenly lost a lot of blood. We sped to the ER, and since I hadn't felt Buster move since the initial rush of red, I was hugely relieved when they determined that most of the blood was mine and not hers. The bleeding continued more slowly but steadily through the night, and the next morning my doctor threw us a c-section party. He didn't want to risk transferring me to a nearby hospital with a full NICU because he was afraid the jolts would cause a catastrophe before we got there, so he opted for transfer after the birth if Buster was in distress.
God is so good. The placenta was easily removed, I had only an average amount of bleeding during the caesarean, and Buster didn't lose enough blood to go into serious trauma. Although she had to wear glorified Tupperware over her head for the first day and a half of her life before being placed into an even larger Tupperware box, she thrived. On Sunday night, I was able to go to the nursery and stroke her knobby knee. Late Monday night, she was taken off the oxygen, and I held her close and nursed her for the first time. On Tuesday, the moniters were snipped. On Wednesday, her IV was removed, she was transferred from the isolette to a regular bassinet, and John was able to hold her for the first time. On Thursday afternoon, we busted out of the place!
My doctor removed my staples on Tuesday morning and was willing to discharge me early. This is the first (and hopefully only) time that I gladly chose to stay the full sentence! I felt like myself by Tuesday, apart from the nasty spinal headache I developed, but even this headache was a blessing. Because of it, I was given free meals and a room for the night only slightly further down the hall from Buster after my Wednesday discharge, instead of crashing in the lounge as I had planned to do.
I am thankful for too many things to recount here. After the c-section, my doctor told me about two women who had just lost their babies due to placenta previa, and my empathy for them mingled with my joy for us. God not only brought Piper safely into our arms, but He did so with a minimal amount of worry. Each day, I was impatient and tempted to snatch her from the plastic and bring her home, and this with only a five day stay in the hospital. During constant restiveness, I remembered my brother and sister-in-law talking about meeting other parents at the NICU in Philadelphia during Gussy's one-month stay. I was abashed at my impatience with all things well.
Events like this distill self in both painful and startlingly good ways. I don't understand the mysteries of life and death, but while lying on the hospital bed Saturday night, bleeding my way into Sunday morning-- holding my belly and my breath while waiting for a kick or two-- I saw with sharp and unpleasant clarity my failings and weakness. There are times when it is impossible to dismiss or ignore one's nature. Arrogance, pride, cruelty, selfishness, presumption, resentment, and more were all strung out in front of me, stark and obvious like clothes on the line.
It's necessary to be struck down by one's need like this, because the only Balm waits beside us. The good comes after, when one has relinquished those sins again to the Christ who drenched them with His scarlet blood and sorrow. I sat in the nursery rocking Piper in my arms, singing her newly-made lullaby, whispering truths that I forget so easily, whispering to us both over and over again, "Remember this." Her beauty literally caught at my throat. The simplicity of life pierced me through, life inscrutably poured into the bones and scrawny sinews of Piper Joy, who was finally out and whose shallow breath warmed the skin beneath my breastbone. "This is life," I thought, "This is living. Remember this."
I pray that if things had gone differently, I would still be thankful, that I would still state, "God is so good," but I am small and weak. God is good. He was good when He chose to preserve our Wombkin, but He would have been no less good if He had allowed her and us to struggle with more than simple impatience. May He strengthen us at all times. Praise be His name.
Remember this.
