…And Bells on Her Toes

“Turn around and you’re tiny, turn around and you’re grown, turn around, you’re a young wife with babes of your own.”

Dear Caity:

I have been planning this post for weeks now.  Today is your second birthday and I can’t believe the incredible person you are becoming.  From the very first moment, you had such a strong personality and that hasn’t ceased.  If anything, you have become stronger every day.  I think this is because of the way you entered the world, how I almost lost you as soon as you were born.  You’re a fighter, you always have been and I’m sure you always will be.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.  Mostly about you and your sister and how lucky I am to have you in my life.  I know your Daddy grumps and groans and threatens to sell the two of you, but I know he feels the same. 

First it was just me on my own and I always felt lost.  Even when I was in a relationship – which were few and far between – I felt as if something was missing.  I wasn’t complete.  Then I met your Daddy and another piece of the puzzle came into place.  I couldn’t imagine my life without him.  I had never been with another person that no matter how much time we spent together, I still wanted to spend more.  Even with that much happiness, I still was missing something.  Then we had Lexy and my world took a tumble when your Daddy nearly lost me after delivering her.  I wasn’t ready to leave yet, I still had more work to do.  I fought through the illness and struggled – after waking from the coma, relearning how to walk, relearning how to talk, to think properly again, to remember people I had known for years but had forgotten.  I had to take care of your Sister and your Daddy, while he took care of me and her.  I still missed something.  Daddy and I got married and the circle was finally closing. Nine months later we had you.  My circle was now complete.  My family is complete.  My search is over.

I looked forward to your birth and couldn’t wait to meet you.  I don’t remember much of Lexy’s birth.  Minutes before your were born, the delivery Doctor told me you had blonde hair and were doing well – ‘she’s a happy baby’, they all said.  Seconds after you were born they ran you to the incubator on the other side of the room, jammed the code button on the wall, and a bunch of Doctors came racing into the room.  Except for their voices it was very quiet.  Too quiet.  Babies are supposed to cry when they’re born and you didn’t.  I knew something was very wrong and as my heart threatened to jump out of my chest, the look on your Daddy’s face said it all.  They were trying to save your life and no one would tell me what was going on.  I timidly asked “Why isn’t she crying?”  One of the Doctors said to me, seeing the tears streaming down my face “Mom, don’t cry.  We can’t let your baby cry or she’ll asphyxiate.”  I’ll never forget those chilling words as long as I live.

I must have shouted or moaned or something because your Daddy was immediately beside me, trying to take it all in, holding my hand.  He was trying to comprehend what was going on.  At that point we didn’t know what was going to happen to you.  I prayed.  And prayed.  At some point before you were born you panicked and pooped, and as you were going down the birth canal you inhaled it.  The Doctors only found this out when you came out, green, dirty.  When they rushed you to the incubator, they were suctioning the Meconium out of your lungs so you could breathe.  You were in Respiratory Distress.  My world was spinning.  What seemed like an eternity later I heard this howl.  That was you.  You could breathe and by golly, you could cry.

The drama didn’t end there.  During routine blood tests they found that your white blood cell count was ‘elevated’.  A ‘normal’ count is about 12,000.  Yours was over 25,000.  The Doctors were afraid you had Meningitis.  Before you were three days old they did a Spinal Tap on you.  They had to attempt that three times before they finally got some fluid out of your back.  Luckily it wasn’t Meningitis but some unknown infection somewhere in your body, likely attributed to the Meconium inhalation. 

You spent the first three days of life in the NICU unit at Mount Sinai Hospital.  You looked like a little pin cushion with all the IV lines in you.  You were the largest baby there at 7 lbs 11 ounces.  The baby in the incubator next to you weighed only 1.5 lbs.  The funny thing is even though you entered this world quietly, you quickly caught up.  I was in my Hospital room when the phone would ring in the middle of the night.  It was the NICU nurse “your baby is awake and needs to be fed.  She’s woken all the other babies too.” I could hear you through the phone screaming your head off to get some food.  “Is that her?” I asked.  “Yes,” was the icy reply.

We spent a total of a week in the Hospital – they were monitoring me to make sure I didn’t get Eclampsia again, checking my blood pressure every few hours and by now you had Jaundice.  You spent a day and a half in the ‘Baby Spa’ totally naked except for the eye shades.  You absolutely loved it.  Any time we took you out, you squeaked your resentment. 

Your Daddy visited me every day, and it was so cold outside, he’s such a loyal guy.  The temperature was in the -20’s before the wind chill.  Lexy was staying with Grandma and missed us terribly and wanted to meet you so badly.  Every day for about a month before you were born, she would ask “is my baby born yet?”  She was so excited to be a big Sister.  Grandma, your Auntie Courtney and Lexy came with Daddy one day to visit us.  Poor Lexy was so sick, her cheeks were bright red and she had a fever.  She was so surprised and pleased that you had time to get a present for her and loved the little lamb you gave her right away.

When you left the NICU the nurses already loved you.  I think it was because of your eyes.  From the very first time I saw you, I noticed those gorgeous blue eyes of yours – they’re so captivating.  You study people, you observe, you take it all in.  I often would stare into your eyes for long periods of time, I still do.  Your eyes try to tell me a story and maybe one day I’ll be able to decipher it.  You never have to say a word, your eyes say it all.  I especially love the sideways glance you give me when you’re about to do something bad and you know it.  Sometimes you can be such a brat.  Your eyes give you away every time.  They tell me when you’re sick or happy, angry or sad.  You have mood eyes.

When we finally made it home, you still had the IV in your arm and even though by now you were used to it, you still hated it.  A VON nurse came to administer some more drugs but the line fell out of your arm somewhere on the route home and it ended up we had to go to the local hospital to see if they could put the line back in.  That was another terrible time.  They tried the veins in both your little arms and skinny legs and couldn’t get the line in.  You were screaming and miserable and tired of being poked.  The Doctor said it was cruel to continue the torture and suggested giving you a shot instead so that you could finish the rest of your antibiotics.  That meant we had to go back to the hospital every day for two or three more days to get you the shots.  Poor little thing.

Eventually life returned to ‘normal’.  One night after we were home and you were a few weeks old, you were sleeping on my chest.  Daddy was either asleep or at work.  The house was dark and quiet and as I could feel your breath on my skin and as I looked down at your beautiful little face I realized for the first time that I needed this.  I needed you.

Caity, at every milestone you reach I long for when you were so small and helpless, the time when you needed me the very most.  I look forward to all your accomplishments and when you do something new I get so proud.  You are taller than your sister was at the same age by about an inch and a half.  You are so affectionate and love to lavish kisses on me.  You adore your sister and will hug her one minute and punch her the next. You adore Daddy, he is your Superman and can do no wrong. 

I love the look of wonder in your eyes when you discover something new.  You squeal and you squeak and you non-stop babble.  You are forming sentences now and carrying on long conversations with me but only about every fifth word is an actual word.  “amman a blah sna BOOK!”  You quietly say the babble and shout the real word as if for effect. 

You love it when we have our alone time.  You crawl in my lap and push my computer away as if to say “Mommy, it’s my time now”.  You are stubborn.  You are funny.  You are completely loveable.  You are my free-spirit.  Nothing phases you.  If something makes Lexy run around in a tizzy, you shrug your shoulders like it’s no big deal and carry on doing what you were doing.

Caity.  My Caity.  I love you baby.  Happy Birthday.  I hope you have an amazing day.

My girl.  How you’ve grown.

Love, Mommy.