Elise Celeste arrived 10.15.08 at 9am. She weighed 7lbs even and measured 17.75 inches.
My Dear Elise:
October 15, 2008 was a perfectly clear and crisp autumn day here in the desert. As your sister and Yai waited at home, your father and I made our way to Banner Desert at 6 in the morning. We were scheduled to be in the OR at 815a. After a bit of trauma in pre-op, we were wheeled to the door of operating room 3, I believe. We waited a moment and I remember wanting to succumb to the panic that had started to creep into my nerves. I was frightened of what was to come…not by your arrival but by what measures we were taking to making it happen. The ordeal in pre-op seemed to be an omen of sorts and I had to fight hard not to believe it to be such. As we waited briefly, I almost shouted that I’d changed my mind. That I didn’t care about the risks, that I wanted you to cook for as long as you wanted. That I wanted you to choose how and when you’d join us. That I simply couldn’t face the fear I had about being in so vulnerable a position again. Instead of saying anything, I cried.
In the OR, the medical professionals, some meeting for the first time then and there, came together like a team of seasoned athletes whose only goal was to usher a healthy new you into this world. There was a flurry of activity as nurses prepped tools, introductions between doctors were made, drugs were pumped into us and labs were read aloud. After the spinal block I was numb from what felt like the mouth down. I joined the journey the numbness was on and when I found I couldn’t swallow, I tried to fight the frenzy clawing its way to my mind’s surface. I kept saying to myself that I didn’t have a reason for wanting to swallow – so I should stop trying. Instead of complaining anymore to your Dad about it, I remember turning my head away from him and crying more.
If I’m completely honest, the discomfort wasn’t entirely about the act of being cut open but I was also very aware of how exposed I was. I’m not necessarily a modest person, and it would have been a feat of great proportion, but since the anesthesiologist was so darn hot, I was really regretting not having spent more time grooming my lady parts. Just being honest, sweetie.
Under huge, round lights, an audience of at least 10 witnessed your birth by c section. I vaguely remember seeing you as they held you over the curtain just after being pulled from my belly. You were not as pretty in that moment as you are now, but I suppose no newborn is. When I was more fully awake, I listened to the doctor and his assistant talk about some concert. You were with your father in recovery and I was getting my innards sewn back in.
I was pretty doped up back in recovery but I was stapled shut and finally covered. And most important, I was near you and your father. Ba’Anne also was waiting for you. You were much anticipated and Elise, my dear, you took my breath away. Your features are delicate and smooth. The soft patch of hair on your head is dark brown as are the hints of eyebrow you have. Your eyes appear to be dark and when they are open, you are absolutely stunning.
You were a little jaundiced and while you were on the mid to high end of the scale, they let us take you home so long as we promised to set you in the sun for a bit. We came home Saturday Oct. 18.
While in the hospital, laying in your bassinet, all swaddled, you would lift your little legs in response to something startling you. I may nickname you “Bug” as a result. At your first visit with the pediatrician (after coming home), he said you were “truly a beautiful and healthy baby girl.”
You are 10 days old as I now try to finish this. You are alert, amazingly sweet and generally docile. You are a champion eater, sleeper and burper. Your sister adores you and often refers to you as “our baby.” You are beautiful and I am excited that you are finally with us. Your cry, much like your sister’s as a baby, is delicate but also fierce. Your grip is strong. You lift your head off my shoulder with a lovely sort of fortitude and your legs seem much more powerful than a brand new person’s ought. You already have a bridge on your nose and this slight difference in your facial features seems to be indicative of the uniqueness you are determined to bring into this family.
There is a serenity to your spirit that I not only admire but trust. You are special beyond words and I can’t believe I love you this much already.
Welcome my sweet girl.
Love,
Mom