A Baby Was Born

Ten years ago our daughter, C, had just graduated from high school. I was in the end-stages of making all the arrangements for her wedding. And C was 29 weeks pregnant.

C hadn’t been feeling very well that 4th of July, and on the 5th she went to see her doctor. He thought she had a bladder or kidney infection, so he had her stay at his office while tests were being run. She continued to feel worse and when the tests came back negative, they began to explore other possibilities. When they finally checked her out, it was determined that she was in full labor and about to give birth to the baby over two months early.

C was rushed to the hospital by ambulance and gave birth to a baby girl. The baby was taken by ambulance to our local hospital (a regional medical center) because it had a NICU. I saw her for the first time within minutes of her arrival in the NICU.

The baby was only 2 pounds 7 ounces. She had a breathing tube hooked up to a respirator, but she was doing all of her own breathing. She had tubes and leads coming from every part of her body. There were at least two from her belly button, two tubes down her throat, a patch with a wire on her chest, several more on other parts of her body, and a cuff on her ankle. Her coloring was more of a red-purple than what would be considered ‘normal.’ Her kidneys were working well, her liver was immature, and her lungs were giving some trouble.

In order to keep all of the tubes and leads in place, the baby’s head and arms were strapped down to the table. It is very sad to see this, but it was necessary. She struggled against the nurse when blood was taken from her heel and she was able to grip my finger when I placed it in her hand. When I touched the underside of her toes, she jerked her foot back with an amazing amount of strength.

The hardest part of seeing her was watching her breathe. With every breath she took, her stomach and chest ‘caved in’ until her front met her spine. I have never seen—and hope to never see again—anything so frightening and horrific. While it was awful seeing her struggle the way she was, I also had a sense of awe while watching her—to see how hard she wanted to live, and the strength she used to stay alive, was unbelievable.

Within four days of being born, the oxygen mix she was getting had been reduced from 50% (what she was getting right after birth) to 25%. She was already in an incubator, her breathing tube had been removed, the antibiotic tube was gone, she was wearing diapers, and she was being fed every four hours. And five days after she was born, she was able to be held for the first time. Amazing progress.

Today, that little girl is turning into a beautiful young lady. She is quite good at softball, soccer, swimming, and skiing. She gets wonderful grades and loves to read. She has no ill effects from her early entry into this world. Quite remarkable.

I remember thinking shortly after seeing her for the first time, that ‘fetuses’ of this many weeks gestation are still being aborted in this country. I don’t understand how anyone could possibly see this little girl and not consider her a child, a human being. This was no ‘mass of tissue’ that I saw and touched. It is a totally inconceivable idea to me and I will debate anyone at any time about this. True, she could have been born with deformities or health problems, but couldn’t ANY baby? And are we to love the less than ‘perfect’ child any less than the ‘perfect’ one? I truly don’t understand abortion and I never will. And I have proof—in my grandchildren—that problem pregnancies and problem births don’t necessarily make for problem children.

So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Christina. Have a long and wonderful life. I love you.