November 6, 2012

I am thankful for the angels disguised as nurses this day three years ago in the Labor and Delivery Unit of Summerlin Hospital.

At my 39 week prenatal appointment I was informed by my nurse that I could schedule an induction date if I wanted to.  So of course, being the schedule freak that I am, I jumped right at the chance.  My biggest fear about going into labor was that it would happen while the hubby was fighting a fire and I wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him.

It was a Thursday.  Jokingly I asked my doctor, “How about tonight?”  He scanned his calendar and replied, “OK come in at 8:00pm.”  My husband and I exchanged nervous glances in realization that he wasn’t kidding.  As we left the office, I called my mom in Northern California to tell her to start heading to the airport.  In the next few hours, we managed to clean the condo, go out for pho, drop our dog off at a friend’s house, and pick my mom up from the airport.  I checked into Summerlin Hospital’s L & D unit just before 8:00pm with no clue what the next seventeen hours would be like.

It all started off so calm and relaxing.  The room smelled of lavender from the air freshener I’d brought.  Soft smooth melodies from our birthing playlist floated in the background from the iPod.  Friends came and went.  We didn’t know the sex, but there were two names scribbled  on the dry erase board, Marley James for a boy, and Marley Jane for a girl.  Then some time in the middle of the night it all changed.  The contractions became unbearable.  My body must not have handled thpain meds or the epidural very well.  I got so cold that my teeth were chattering and my knees were rattling.  No amount of fuzzy socks or blankets could warm me up.  My blood pressure dropped to 60/20 and I had to spend the rest of my time in labor wearing an oxygen mask.

Then at 1:12pm on Friday November 6, 2009, after an hour of pushing, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.  But something was wrong.  She wasn’t crying.  I had about thirty seconds of skin to skin while the doctor cut the umbilical cord.  I was so out of it all I remember was my husband kissing my forhead and telling me, “Great job Mama.  It’s a girl.”  Somewhere in the room, angels disguised as nurses were with my baby.  They were saying, “Come on Marley, breathe baby, breathe.”  I couldn’t let myself panic.  Weak from labor, I just let the tears roll down my cheeks as I listened for what seemed like an eternity until the sweetest most delicate cry broke free as my daughter grasped for her first breath of air.

I don’t remember those Angels names, but I am forever thankful to them for being there to help my baby girl breathe her first breaths that day.