I have heard that babies are miracles. I heard that from everyone when my daughters were born. Yes miracles they are, it’s a miracle that they are so sweet considering their dad, it’s a miracle that my eyes don’t pop out of my head considering how frustrating they can be, but mostly it is a miracle that my heart doesn’t burst from loving them so much. These are all miracles of the Hallmark variety and I was expecting to tell this story filled with those same type of miracles. This story, I believe, was an actual miracle.
This image is burnt into my brain…he was out but blue and limp. Not a little blue. He was as blue as a smurf and even worse he was silent. My face must have telegraphed what I was seeing to Jenni. She looked at me and tears streamed down her face. “Go with him” she mouthed as she squeezed my hand. He hadn’t gone far. They had a table warmer thing right at the foot of the bed. I couldn’t see him at all. Of course my mind is playing the worst possible scenarios. Everything is in slow motion, the people crowded around the baby, Jenni trying to see what is going on, I look back and see both my mother in law and my mom eyes closed, hands folded furiously sending up prayers. I would love to say that I know just what to say or to do to make everything better, but I froze. Its weird how in those moments your priorities change. I absolutely love my job and I have goals and dreams, things I want to achieve. But in that moment none of it mattered. The job, the car, the money, it didn’t matter…just let him breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe. Please God let him breathe. The only thing in the moment that mattered is him taking his first breath.