Remembering

When they wheeled Rebecca out of the delivery room to the OR a nurse came back and told me to put some scrubs on. If the doctors would let me in, I should be ready, she said. Then she told me to just sit tight until somebody came and got me. So I sat there in the chair having no clue what to do with myself. I called Rebecca's mother, or maybe she called me, and told her they had taken Rebecca in for the emergency C-section. She said something along the lines of, well, that's not what we hoped for, but it's not the end of the world. Then I was just sitting there. I couldn't think of anything else to do, and skydiving taught me panic does nothing but make things worse, so I just prayed for 20 minutes thanking God for everything I have. I thanked him for Rebecca, my parents, her parents, our siblings, our extended family, our health, our house, our church, my business, and all kinds of stuff. I said, God, you have given me all these blessing and if you take them all, I will still trust you. If I had known what was about to happen, I might have done a little more negotiating.

While I was praying, a nurse came in and said the doctor would like to see you now. She didn't look happy, but didn't look sad; just professional, in a soap opera-esque emotive yet emotionless sort of way. We walked down to the OR, which in hospitals is several long halls and corners away. We walked in the final door to the OR and the sea of scrubs just parted before me leading me to a little table with a little baby laying on it. This was not looking like a joyous welcoming party. It took about 2 seconds to realize he's not moving... at all. There were four little red dots on his chest that were puncture holes from the adrenaline they gave him. There was the little bracelet and knit cap on him, and he was looking kind of blue. The doctor standing behind me put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, there was nothing else we could do."

What's bizarre about that moment is that from then on, there was pretty much zero thought going on, emotion was too overwhelming. They slid a chair in behind me so I could fall down. They asked if I wanted to hold him and I said yes, so I held him close and cried hard. They continued to tell me he wasn't breathing when he came out and they could breathe for him and pump his heart for him, but he never took over and pumped or took a breath on his own. They said Rebecca was doing great and that she was getting put back together. They said I should probably go back to the room and wait for Rebecca to get up to the recovery room. Did I want to leave him here or let a nurse take care of him and clean him up? Not on your life! I didn't let him out of my arms until an hour later I handed him to Rebecca.