Last February 27th, I awoke parched. Lips chapped and contractions pounding. No food or drink twelve hours before an 8:00am c-section. I can honestly say that although I had never before been hospitalized or even endured so much as stitches, I was not scared. I was not afraid of my surgery…I was afraid of the surgeries Finn would face in the days to come. “The unknown” loomed heavy over my head like a thundercloud.
After what seemed like an eternity in a room that was much too cold for a hospital gown, he came. Whimpering, he entered the world with about fifteen people ready to receive him and whisk him off to the NICU. My first question: “What level is it? (referring to his level of SB)” They guessed, “low.” The lower the better. After a few minutes, Dr. Stanley handed him to Joey. I peeked over, and although I only saw his tiny button nose, my heart melted like wax within my chest. Our Finn Joseph Armstrong.
I’m sorry you weren’t born healthy. It’s just not fair. Not fair for little babies to be sick. Oh, but you are loved as much as anyone could ever be loved. You were not created in jest or at random, but marvelously made and for some great end. I am proud to be your mommy. Happy first birthday!