May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face, and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
-Irish Blessing

Friday, December 10, 2010

Hello Wyatt

Finally, the big day arrived.  Even though it was early June, it was still pitch dark as we made our way to the hospital that morning.  I clearly remember what I wore that day, a bright pink flowy top with pink Winnie the Pooh knit capri pants (I have worn the same outfit for the birth of all of my children since).  We were surprised by a wonderful balloon bouquet placed in our room by one of my husband's co-workers.  It was no nice to see something cheerful and baby-like first thing.  We began prepping for the c-section.  My mind was a blur but a few things stood out  that morning:  the lab technician took probably close to a half dozen stabs at my arm and hand before finally getting my blood drawn and the anesthesiologist shared with us that he had also lost a baby prior to me entering surgery.  I remember family was there, a few pictures were taken and a few nervous laughs shared.

After getting my spinal,  I only remember waiting waiting for baby to be born, I'm sure it was much quicker than my memory recalls.  Finally we heard "It's a boy!" and tears exploded from my eyes.  Then I heard a sound I had been completely unprepared for - the sound of my baby's voice.  He cried and I will carry those cries with me always.  It never occurred to me that such a thing would be possible because of the underdeveloped lungs.  One of many surprises that morning.  The staff quickly cleaned up little Wyatt, a name chosen by my husband, and handed him to my husband.  We had a priest come into the OR to baptize Wyatt as well as my father and father-in-law who were master photographers that morning.  Every moment captured is a precious reminder of his brief life.

Because of the c-section I was confined to the operating room table for a while after Wyatt's birth and could only look at him and snuggle from the side.  I remember softly caressing his chubby little cheeks.  He was a good sized baby for 37 weeks and for having Potter's Syndrome, six and a half pounds!  He had short fuzzy dark hair, dark eyes and his hands were curled into the cutest little fists.  Appropriate for my little fighter.  His blue hat kept popping off his chubby little head!  We were soon taken back to my hospital room to meet the family gathered there.  Everyone had a chance to cuddle sweet Wyatt.  I don't remember how or when people started leaving, but I know the numbers dwindled and that we were given interludes with just me, my husband and Wyatt in the room.  We took turns taking pictures, both color and black and white.  Pictures of his hands, hair, ears, face.  We kissed and snuggled and told him how much he was loved.  My husband was especially giving that day, he unselfishly let me spend the most time touching and snuggling our child, a kindness I could never forget.

Wyatt was undressed and weighed in the typical hospital bassinet in our room.  It had been raining all morning but when he was placed in the bassinet in front of the window sunlight flowed into the room and landed where he lay.  The chaplain told us she believed this was the moment that his soul left us.  Sure enough, shortly after his heartbeat was gone.

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