Your mother was just pushed into the operating room, and I am sitting out here in an empty hall. The floors are green and bright light creeps its way in through the windows, fighting with the florescent bars for my attention.
Soft music and an overpowering feeling of optimism and joy enter every cell of my body. I am near tears as I click clack the keys to form these thoughts and create these words for you.
Your existence has been like a vague memory or strange dream up to this point. It has been an uneventful and easy pregnancy. Your presence in our lives has been a simple ethereal notion of joy, soft spoken like a rest in music in an otherwise complicated measure.
But now, right now, here at 8:27 am on the morning of October 8, 2009, everything is real and perfect. I can imagine your face, your smell- you are already here. The only thing left is holding you and feeling your breath on my face.
When Kaia was born, I had never felt love like the way I felt while holding her. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone to that extent. As an only child, sibling relationships are foreign to me. But sitting here in this empty hall, I am watching this cloud of unconditional love break apart and fragment. The pieces float about the room and like hovering magnets; I can feel the pull, bringing us all together. One family, our family bond together ready for the future…
Well it is 12:27 now and you have been in the world for a little over three hours. You were born at 9:00 am and weighed 7.8 pounds. You look good and strong and tough. You are having some troubling breathing because there is too much CO2 in your blood, so you have been in the N.I.C.U since you were born. They are monitoring your breathing. We are anxious and nervous, but patient and optimistic.
I spent the last two hours in there with you, and you were not a happy camper. Too many tubes coming in and out of your tiny body had you crying and grunting for two hours- so much for the quiet ethereal segment of rest in music. I can already tell you are tough one. I watched you for two hours try to catch your breath and get all of the tubes out of your body. I held your hand, rubbed your back, kissed your fingers, and patted your tiny butt, but you were still quite ornery. Looks like Kaia maybe the one with her hands full.
Your mom is sleeping next to me as we speak and can't wait to see you; I just wish they could take those tubes out of your face, wrap you up in a cozy blanket so we could snuggle on the couch. We all must be patient I guess. Welcome to the family Skyelar. We love you.
UPDATE: I have been waiting for weeks to post new pictures of Skyelar looking all cute in some pink outfit, so it is hard to post these pictures, but this is the reality, and since she is already proving to be a bad ass, we might as well share that side of her.
The doctor has said that since she is still struggling to breathe she will stay on monitored breathing for 24 hours. Then tomorrow she will stay in the N.I.C.U for another day without a breathing device to see how she does on her own. He says that she is fine, but all the breathing is adding stress to her body and it would be best to help her along.
It just really sucks not to be able to hold her. Mairin hasn't even seen her yet, so we hope to tomorrow they can meet.
Thanks for all your kind words and wishes. Can't wait to bring her home and share some "real" pictures.