to focus on his hand, the warmth, the way his perfectly-shaped fingers look. Trying my best to ignore they are white, the blood drains as I squeeze onto them for dear life. My mind is racing and lost in my thoughts, I try to think of anything I can besides the fact that I’m only thirty-six weeks, and this baby is coming.
Doctors and nurses come in and out of the room, their words all lost on me. Lex, on the other hand, asks questions in his medical jargon, the doctors surprised with his knowledge. When they leave, he talks to me, but I’m scared to listen. The fear of losing our baby is ripping me apart.
“Charlotte, please look at me,” he begs.
If I look, I will cry. The tears sit on the edge of my eyelids, ready to stream down my face.
“Everything will be okay. Please, look at me.”
I muster up every muscle in my body to move to face him. The second my eyes meet his, the floodgates open. He pulls me into his embrace as much as he can without cords from the machine being tangled up and kisses the tears on my face.
“Please listen to me.”
I nod, forcing myself to listen.
“The baby is breech, but the heartbeat is perfect. Your blood pressure has spiked, and if it doesn’t come down in the next twenty-four hours, they may need to do a cesarean.”
“Cut me open?” my voice quivers.
“Yes, but it’s only a small incision, and I’ll be in the operating room with you. You won’t feel any pain, maybe just some pressure.”
I listen intently, trying to garner any of the calmness that Lex feels.
“Twenty-four hours?”
“Yes. And don’t worry, I will be here the whole time, and outside you have a hoard of visitors waiting if you’re up for it.”
I hold onto his hand tighter, wanting to savor what is quite possibly our final moment alone as husband and wife before we are officially parents.
My eyelids feel heavy. I struggle to keep them open amid the sounds of panic around me. My heart starts to beat fast, the wave of panic followed by nausea setting in. In the distance, I hear my name being called, a familiar voice. I focus on this voice, something about it I just can’t decipher. I hear it again. Now, I shut my eyes tight, and every ounce of me is trying to focus on this voice.
“Sweet baby girl… everything will be okay… hush baby girl.”
My body jerks, and my eyes open rapidly. The voice…
It’s my grandmother.
Lex looks panicked, and even with all the chaos in the room, this serenity envelops me because I have an angel watching over me—two angels. One that can be heard but not seen, and the one that sits holding my hand beside me eagerly waiting.
“The baby needs to come out now, Charlotte. We need to go the operating room,” Lex says softly.
I smile, unafraid of what lay ahead.
We are safe.
We are protected.
At exactly 2:46 a.m., Amelia Grace Edwards is born. Her tiny screams echo through the operating room causing everyone to cheer. Around me, the hospital staff is hovering, and the nurse takes away the baby as they clean her up. It feels like hours later when Lex walks over to me, his face beaming with pride as he places our daughter against my face.
“Say hello to Mommy.”
The second her face touches mine, I become complete. Her precious skin is so soft as I run my lips over her cheeks. She is tiny and perfect. There are no other words to describe her.
With my vision clouded, I turn to look at Lex. A single tear falls down his face only to be swallowed by the gigantic smile consuming him.
“She is perfect… just like you,” he murmurs.
“Just like her daddy.”
The nurse comes over and explains Amelia needs to be taken to the NICU because she is premature. I don’t argue, nor does Lex. The second she’s taken away, I feel the loss. Okay, Charlie, this is your maternal side kicking in. Just get used to it because life has changed forever.
The days seem a blur. I’m beyond exhausted and trying my best to recover. Thankfully, my vagina is still intact from the cesarean and not looking like a battered lasagna—you can thank Eric for that analogy—but I still feel disabled.
My body aches, painful in different areas, and overall, I feel weak. It takes me a day to get up and pee on my own. Thank the Lord for a