Everything had been discussed, arranged, and then discussed again. My dad had lovingly volunteered to go into surgery with me, both to support me and allow my squeamish mother to avoid seeing her daughter sliced open. We all agreed that Keegan would probably do better running around the hospital with my mom, and it was a relief to know he would be comfortable while I couldn't be there with him. The plan was for my dad and I to sneak out to the hospital while Keegan was still asleep, and that my mom would bring him to meet his new sister once I was out of surgery and in recovery. Of course, Keegan had other ideas.
I was up at 6:00 showering with the bright orange antibacterial soap I was issued to make sure I was sterilized and ready for surgery. I was busy running through the lists in my head, trying to think if I had forgotten anything for my hospital bag when I heard my little man stirring in his bed. I hurried through the motions of finishing my shower, got wrapped up in my towel and went to see my little man. The idea was not lost on me that today would be his last day as an only child. The guilt had been creeping in that soon his time with mommy would be split, he would lose my undivided attention, and that his world would soon be sent on a tailspin by a tiny screaming, eating, and pooping machine. I laid down next to Keegan who was snuggled up with all three of his "gees". He has a funny habit in the mornings of puffing out his top lip and flicking it with his finger. He's done this for almost a year now, and we still can't quite understand where he picked it up. I asked him if he knew what today was, and he sleepily responded "baby sister coming today!" The tears welled up, knowing that while he understood that she was coming, he had no idea what was really about to happen. I ushered my sleepy boy out of bed, and headed to the kitchen to fix him some breakfast, trying to keep things as normal as possible.
The house was a buzz with excitement and anxious nerves. My mom was up, ready to start her day of Keegan chasing. My dad was showing signs of nerves, walking back and forth in the kitchen, checking his phone, heading to the garage, coming back in and checking his phone again. I knew that him being in the surgery with me meant a lot to him, he had even been upset when I automatically assumed my mom would be the one in the OR with me. So when the time finally came, he was taking his job very seriously. "Are you ready yet? We need to get going if we're gonna make it there on time..." I was hoping he was going to be able to handle today, because I was already an emotional mess. My dad grabbed my hospital bag and took it out to the car as I kissed Keegan, promising to see him later when he came to visit and meet his new baby sister at the hospital. I hugged my mom, and she promised to be there once I was in recovery. One more smooch and hug for my little man and I headed out the door.
I had made the drive between Coldwater, Michigan and Ft Wayne, Indiana several times over the past nine months for doctors appointments, but that morning it was the longest 45 minute trip of my life. I sat in the front seat watching the rain come down while my poor dad tried his best to keep me from knowing how nervous he was by talking my ear off about anything and everything. I kept my answers short, dealing my own nerves and keeping Nolan up to date on what was going on was all I could handle. We pulled into the parking lot, and my heart jumped into my throat. I knew what was coming this time, I had been through this before, but I had a whole new set of worries this time. What if something happened to me during the surgery? Nolan wasn't here, how could I go through all of this without him? Sensing my nerves, my dad said, "Just think, in a few hours...Addy will be here, and you won't have a worry in the world". I wish that were the case.
We made our way to the birthing center, where things went from nerve wrecking to completely and totally awkward. The nice lady behind the counter asked for my driver's license and insurance card to make copies, and then this happened: "Are you the dad?" Without understanding her question, my dad answered, "Yes!" "Well congratulations, Dad!" squealed the lady with the biggest smile on her face, as if she could sense our excitement and nervousness. It finally clicked, and my dad realized she meant the baby's dad...not mine. He quickly corrected her, throwing in a comment about how young he must look. This was the next phase of my dad's nervousness: awkward comments to anyone and everyone who would listen. Oy vey. We were ushered down the hall to the pre-op room where they would monitor the baby for about an hour while hooking me up to IV's and finishing any paperwork that needed taking care of. I was handed a designer open back gown and told to strip, again (always a theme during pregnancy...especially the latter half). After changing and awkwardly making my way to the bed without flashing my father my ass, I met the two nurses that would be taking care of me before the surgery, one of which would be in the surgery, and tending to me afterwards. Erika and Katie were great, largely due to the fact that they didn't smack the shit out of my dad for all the ridiculous comments he was spewing. In all fairness, I did warn them. While Erika hooked up my IV, dad asked if he could get one filled with Tequila. When Katie went to go get some paperwork and asked if we needed anything, dad asked for a breakfast burrito. It only got worse from there.
I was hooked up to machine that would monitor the baby which fascinated my dad to no end, it was adorable. He watched Addy's heart rate go up and down as she wiggled and hiccuped. It was as if she knew today was the big day, she was all over the place, trying to find the nearest emergency exit. My nurses came and went, I signed papers, and waited. This time around was much different than with Keegan. By this time with Keegan, I was so nervous and overflowing with adrenaline that I shook uncontrollably. My teeth chattered, my bones ached from shaking, and all of the nerves caused me to break out with a serious case of cold sores post-baby. This time, I was nervous...but at the same time, I was ready. Dr Kennedy came by to check in and let me know that they were almost ready for me in the OR. "The tech people just set up the tripod for the camera, we are waiting on the anesthesiologist and then we are good to go! Are you ready?" That was the million dollar question. "Yep! Good to go! Still okay to have the husband FaceTime in?" She assured me it was okay, thank God because I think I could feel his nervousness from all the way in Afghanistan. Dad was still cracking jokes, which at this point was less embarrassing and more comforting. I think he even threatened the doctor...bless his heart.
Minutes later, I walked into the OR where Dr Kennedy introduced me as the pregnant lady in need of a c-section. She introduced each person there as I made my way to the operating table. I sat with my legs hanging over the edge while the anesthesiologist began his routine of mixing his potions and draping and washing my back in preparation for the epidural. Dr Kennedy stood in between my legs, put her hands on my knees and offered to hold my hands. She made small talk, mentioning that the nurses seemed to have taken a liking to my father and his antics. I apologized profusely, promising to supply some delicious cupcakes for all parties having to deal with his crap which everyone seemed to find hilarious and thoughtful. I was told to relax and drop my head, Dr Kennedy stood on a stool and let me put my head on her shoulder while the anesthesiologist pushed on my spine, trying to find the right spot to insert the giant needle with the amazing drugs. After finding the right spot, I braced myself for the sting and took a deep breath. Three little bee stings, and a hell of a lot of pressure later, and I was beginning to feel the affects of the drugs in my lower extremities. Katie, my pre-op nurse and the one familiar face in the OR other than Dr Kennedy assisted in swinging my legs back onto the table and getting me into position. I was draped and hooked up to more machines, while the room came to life, everyone knowing their job. Once I was ready to go, Katie was sent to let my dad in, who beelined it to the stool set up next to my head. He asked if I was okay, I told him I was good. He fired up the iPad, and called Nolan on FaceTime.
It didn't even ring a full time before Nolan's face showed up on the screen, tears already in his eyes. "Hi sweetie!" I said as calmly as I could possibly muster. The first thing out of his mouth was asking if I was okay...I assured him I was, and told him that they had just gotten started and she would be here soon. We made a last bet on how much she would weigh, and then just waited. I kept asking if he was okay, as he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, or from ringing his hands over and over and over under his chin. He told me he loved me over and over through the shaking in his voice. My dad held the iPad, as I focused on my breathing. I was moments away from seeing my daughter, and that's all that mattered. That's all I could think about. The anesthesiologist who had sat next to my father behind me asked if I was comfortable, telling me that it wouldn't be long before she arrived. I was fine, I just wanted to meet my daughter.
I could hear machines beeping, the sounds of metal on metal as instruments were used and then set down on a tray. I stared at the ceiling and focused on my breathing. I checked in with Nolan from time to time, and kept breathing. "I see a biiiiig baby!" said Dr Kennedy, announcing that she had finally gotten a visual of Addy. I relayed the message to Nolan, the tears still streaming down his face. My eyes started to well with tears, knowing in moments I would see her, finally. "There's going to be some big pressure now Tiff, hold on...here she comes!" I stared at the blue draping, waiting for our baby girl to be hoisted over so I could finally see her. There was pressure, lots of pressure, and no noise. And then..."Here she is!" And I cried. I looked at her face, she was here. She was finally here. The waiting was over. "She's here honey, she's beautiful!" I told Nolan. He asked if she was okay and I told him she was here and she was great. We both cried happy tears, our wait was over, Addy was here. We thought all the chaos was over, but it was only just beginning.
They took Addy over to the nurses who began cleaning her up and going through their checklist of procedures. I told my dad to go take pictures, leaving me with the iPad to talk to my husband and gush over our beautiful new daughter. Something wasn't right. "Is she okay?" my dad asked. The nurses quickly responded, "She's perfect! Lungs are healthy, strong heart, she's perfect!" I looked at my dad and knew something was wrong. I handed him the iPad, and that's when I looked at Addy and saw it. She was laying in the clear basinet, the nurses measuring her and cleaning her up, both of her arms waving in the air as she whimpered and cried. Both arms, one shorter than the other, and a hand missing. From where I laid, it looked like I was seeing the inside of her wrist, and that her hand was just bent in a funny direction. I remember asking what was wrong. I asked where her hand was. "She's perfect!" the nurse kept repeating. She kept saying the same thing over and over and over. I began to panic. "Someone tell me what's going on! Why won't anyone talk to me? What's wrong with her?" Dr Kennedy stopped what she was doing and looked at me and repeated what the nurse said. "Tiff, she's fine, honey! Her lungs are great, her heart is strong! She's beautiful!" I looked at my dad and he didn't say anything, but it was in his eyes. I couldn't see his mouth behind the mask, but it was all over his face. I was now frantic. Screaming. Someone. Anyone. Answer me. Katie, my pre-op nurse looked at Dr Kennedy and shook her head "no". Dr. Kennedy sent the anesthesiologist over to take a look at Addy. He came back and whispered into Dr. Kennedy's ear, and then returned to my side, lowered his mask and spoke very slowly. "Tiffany, Addy is missing her forearm and her hand on the right side. She is perfectly healthy otherwise, but her hand is missing".
It all went black. I don't remember anything else until I arrived in recovery. I got sick. Needing a little pink basin to puke into. I cried. I panicked. My mind raced with a million worries and questions. I was angry. I was hurt. But I don't remember. I know now that the anesthesiologist took the iPad over to the bassinet and showed Nolan what all the commotion was about, I wasn't even the one to tell him. I know that my dad went over and took pictures, but I only know that because of the pictures. I know that Dr. Kennedy made an attempt at calming me down, after I began to hyperventilate. I know that when no one would answer me while I was screaming for answers, I tried to get up off of the operating table, but I know this because I had bruises on my arms from my dad holding me down. I know that as soon as she was ready to be held, Addy was handed to my dad. I know this because he swears up and down that the minute she was placed in his arms, she stopped crying and opened her eyes to stare at him. My dad held Addy as I laid there, my abdomen being put back together, all the while feeling my heart breaking.
I was wheeled to the recovery room where my dad and Addy followed. I remember laying my hand on my stomach, realizing that she was here, she had been born, and now I could no longer protect her. I was finally handed my daughter, my Addy Grace. I introduced myself, and she opened her eyes, almost begging me to love her. I loved her. I had spent the last nine months loving her, and in that moment, I loved her immensely more. I unwrapped her blankets so that I could see her arm. I needed to see it. I needed to touch it. I needed to know that it was real and that the past 45 minutes had not been a dream. I held her tiny arm in my hand, I ran my fingers over the end of her arm where her hand should have been and felt her tiny "fingers". I kissed them. This was my Adalynn Grace. All seven pounds, nine ounces, blue eyes, auburn mohawk sporting, 10 perfect toes, and 5 perfect fingers...this was my daughter, and I loved her more than I could put into words. In my head and my heart, I was mourning the loss of the child I thought I was going to have, and was falling in love all over again with the child I was holding in my arms.
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