The First I Held Andrew

I clearly remember the first time I saw Andrew. My first memories of him and the first moments I shared with him.

It was in the OR about five - ten minutes after he was born. They had done all their tests and poking, cleaned him up and were ready to take him to the NICU when they brought him over for a quick moment with mommy. Even lying there paralyzed by the drugs, I was beaming with excitement from head to toe.

He was all swaddled in the hospital blanket upset at all the commotion he had just endured. He was crying!!!!!!!!!! A miracle for his age. The 45 minutes I spent waiting for them to close felt like hours. I wanted to sit up, walk down to the NICU and hold my boy. But you don't do that when your insides are open and you are completely numb from your waist down from the spinal morphine injection they give you for a cesarean. And I was tortured with delays for 12, count them, 12 whole hours after he was born. Oh my gosh I thought I was going to break out of my skin when they suddenly decided that at 4 a.m. I could go see him. I think the nurses sensed I wasn't really sleeping, getting any rest or going to be at peace until I at least saw my child.

So slowly, and trying to be gentle, they wheeled me across the hospital campus to the NICU where he lay. And I acted stronger and in much better shape than I really was. No one was going to keep me away from him any longer. I chuckle at that now. They wheeled me around a corner and through a double glass door and then there he was.

My eyes got as big as saucers as I beheld him in full for the first time laying on a warming pad in an isolette that helped him to maintain his body temperature and protect him from germs. That was it. I was hooked. This was my little special. And he looked perfect.

The nurse told me all about him and how they do things there. And how he was doing so well and he was such a good boy and I just glowed. I couldn't believe he came out so well. The Lord had been so gracious to accelerate his development so that he would be okay. I was reveling in just being near him and was feeling such an intense longing to hold him radiating down my arms and into my hands from my heart that I didn't really hear the nurse's question.

"Would you like to hold him?" she repeated.

My eyes grew big in disbelief as my mouth opened. It was so surprising. They had said I might not be able to hold him and here, I could. My heart overflowed with such excitement I thought I was going to come apart and explode all over the room. I felt like I could leap as high as the stars in the sky and twirl around as fast as a tornado.

"Can I?" finally crossed my lips to her.

"Yes." Almost in a daze, I watched as she opened the isolette, gently swaddled him and tenderly placed him in my open arms. My eyes teared up as I noticed how light he felt and how tiny he was. Although 18 inches in length, due to his curled up position, he was only about a foot long and had fingers so small it reminded me of the dolls I played with as a child. I nestled him close, snuggled his forehead against my cheek briefly. Then I looked him in the face and gingerly whispered, almost as though I could break him with my voice, "Hello sweetheart. It's mommy." And I relished finally being able to hold my son and let him know that I was there.