Against the Odds (Fighting to Survive #2)(32)

I look in the mirror and I can see the baby’s head. “Look, Leah.”

She raises her head and looks in the mirror. “Look at all that hair,” Leah says, laughing. She has a head full of black hair. “Do you have your marker?” Leah whispers.

“I do, Sweets. Don’t worry, they won’t mix this child up.”

“Do you have your camera, too?”

“I have everything I need right here.” I’m not just talking about the camera and marker, I’m talking about my family.

“Okay, Leah. Chin to chest and push,” the doctor says.

Before the nurses say anything, I scoot in close and begin to count. When I reach ten, I can see that the baby is making progress. “She’s beautiful,” I say, lowering Leah’s head to the bed.

After repeating the same steps several times, Leah is exhausted. “This should do it. One more time, Leah. Push with everything that you have.”

I get in close to Leah and the nurse count this time. Leah squeezes my hand so tight, and it reminds me she can still feel pain. On the count of eight, the doctor says, “Stop.”

“Look, Leah,” I whisper. The baby’s head is out and the doctor is suctioning her nose.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Leah cries. The baby is facing sideways and it’s really hard to tell what she looks like. But, I have to agree with Leah, she is gorgeous.

“One more slow push and that will do it,” the doctor says.

Leah pushes lightly, never taking her eyes off of the large mirror. When the baby comes out, she fills her lungs with air and cries. Not just a petite little newborn cry, but a scream. Leah laughs and I kiss her.

They quickly place the baby on Leah’s belly and we both touch her. She is still screaming. “Do you want to cut the umbilical cord?” the doctor asks.

I stand tall and proud as I walk closer to where the doctor is.


I remove the pen from my shirt and put a small heart on the bottom of my baby’s right foot. He smiles and hands me a pair of surgical scissors. “Cut here,” he instructs.

I do, proudly. I look up at Leah and she doesn’t take her eyes off of me. I mouth, “I love you,” and she cries as she mouths the same words back.

Dr. Murphy stands beside me. He places the matching wristband on the baby and says, “We need to check her out.” I lightly touch my baby again before I move out of his way. “Strong lungs,” he says thoughtfully as he carried her over to the incubator. I stand up near the head of Leah’s bed and we both watch as they care for our daughter, Grace. When they finish with Leah, I am surprised the baby is still in the room with us. I thought they would have rushed her to the N.I.C.U., but they didn’t.

A nurse comes over and tells us the baby is 16 inches long and weight 3lbs. 4oz. long. She speaks to Leah about nursing and asks does our daughter have a name. She writes everything down and after a few minutes the nurse says, “We’ll need to move your daughter. Dad, do you want to come with us? We have to walk past the waiting area to get to the N.I.C.U. Your friends and family will be able to see her quickly from in the incubator, but a small glance is better than nothing.”

Dad, she called me Dad. I feel like I could burst with pride. I look at Leah and she smiles, “Take pictures.”

“I will, I won’t be gone long.”

Leah

I lie there and watch as Robert walks behind the medical team and the incubator that is housing our daughter. He stands tall, towering over everyone, including the doctor. The nurses remove the stirrups and put the bed and the room back the way it was prior to delivery. I close my eyes and pray to God and talk to Jamie. I thank God for my many blessing and I tell Jamie she has a baby sister. The doctor speaks briefly to me before he leaves.

I shiver and the nurses cover me in a heated blanket and it’s all I need to fall into a deep sleep. When I finally wake up, I am surrounded in a room full of Happy Birthday balloons, gifts, and cards. It looks like a birthday party. I smile as soon as I realize these are all here to celebrate the birth of Grace. I don’t see Robert, but our parents are here.

Walter says, “Robert walked down to see Gracie. He thought you would sleep for a while.”

“How is she?” I ask and I realize how raspy my voice sounds. I take a sip of the melted ice chips on my bedside table.

“She’s great. She’s on some oxygen to help with her breathing,” Mom says.

“No ventilator?”

Mom confirms, “No vent, just oxygen.”

“That is excellent news.”

“We have pictures,” Margie says as she walks over to me carrying her cell phone.

I try to sit up and scroll through her phone. There is a picture of everyone in the waiting area. Everyone who attended our gender reveal/baby shower, plus their children, are in the waiting area. I look at pictures of the medical team walking down the hallway pushing the incubator. Robert is standing tall and proud. I see an image of Grace inside the incubator with her tiny feet showing. I tap on the image to blow it up and see a little black heart on her right foot.

The nurse comes in and examines me and tells me that all the nurses are talking about the lung capacity of my daughter. She teases and says, “We may have given you too many steroids in your I.V.” I smile as I remember her screams right after birth. I also smile when I remember her strong kicks when I was upset. My daughter is a feisty one. Nothing like me, but more like her Daddy.