Is the baby alive? Is he alive? Those were the first words I said after waking up from surgery. 4 words I don’t ever want to have to say again for as long as I live. I was groggy and confused. The nurse looked at me: Your baby is alive, now rest. I closed my eyes and tried to rest, but I soon realized that if Peter was dead she wasn’t going to tell me right then and there. So I asked again: Please tell me if he is alive. She said he was fine. Still I didn’t believe her. I panicked. Please let me see him. Where is he? What time is it? Please, be honest, is he alive? She said he was fine. Do you have children? Yes. Then swear on your children Peter is alive. I swear. Thank you. I fell asleep.
Phillip gave me a kiss on the forehead and woke me up. I opened my eyes and saw him all teared up. Did you see Peter? How is he? Who does he look like? Where is he? (To this day it kills me that I had to ask those questions instead of seeing him for myself). He told me he was fine, they had him in the NICU and were checking him because of everything that happened. There was a good chance I would be able to see him in a few hours. I asked if they had explained anything to him. They hadn’t. He told me to rest. I had lost a lot of blood. He gave me a kiss and left. I fell asleep.
I woke up back in the room.The place where it all went down. Everything was back to normal. Phillip was there and so was my mother. But still no Peter. I asked if they knew when they were bringing him in. I was dying to see him. No one knew. The Dr. came in. She joked about us giving her a hard time right to the end. It was frightening to see she was still shaking. I asked if she knew what had happened, she said she didn’t. She hadn’t seen anything abnormal or for that matter anything at all that could explain the events. She told me that due to hospital policy in the medical file she had written down that I had had a Placental Abruption, but she assured me that wasn’t the case. She had sent the placenta to Pathology, and we would have to wait for the results. She explained what went on in the surgery, how Peter had to be born in less than 3 minutes due to the risk of the anesthesia harming him (she apologized in advance for the big scar I would end up with), how he was born asleep, and how we were so extremely lucky that all the medical staff was there at that moment to have him delivered. She gave me a hug and left.
We waited. I really don’t know for how long. It’s such a blur. I was so weak I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Just barely opening my eyes to ask for a Peter update. It’s so sad for me to remember those moments. My son had just been born and still no one was celebrating. No family reunion, no photos, no hugs. Just the lingering feeling of something ‘almost’ gone horribly wrong. And still no Peter. The Pediatrician who was at the surgery came in the room. He told us Peter was well. He had been born with an initial Apgar Score of 4 (which is pretty bad), so they had been keeping a close eye on him. They were waiting for some test results, and there was a good chance that they would bring him up to the room that very same night. So we waited some more.
Then all of a sudden: A knock on the door. I sat up. My heart stopped. Come in.
And there he was. In the little incubator my little baby boy. He was mine, my love, my miracle. I hadn’t seen him before and yet there he was. He had been born. He was well. There were no words. There are no words. I cried. They gave him to me. Tears rolling down my face. I love you Peter.
3rd World Mommy 
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