Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [13]
“What? I think it’s cute. Think about it: Maddy is similar to my name, and with your name as her middle name, she’d sort of be named after both of us.”
She digested my point of view for a few seconds, and then her contemplative look gave in to that huge smile that meant she was thrilled.
“I don’t hate it,” she said playfully.
As the nurses came in and prepared Liz for her delivery, I made a mental note of all the things I needed for the big moment. Still camera: check. Video camera: check. I had no intention of photographing or recording any parts of the birthing process, mainly because the thought of watching it had me hyperventilating; I simply planned on taking some abstract shots of the delivery room and possibly a shot of our daughter, but only after the doctors and nurses removed all the nasty birthing goo from her. I brought the video camera to record Liz’s trip to and from the delivery room, capturing our moments together just before and just after our child was born. That was it. No breathing exercises to remember, no overnight bag to forget at home—just some electronic equipment.
We heard a knock and then saw Anya’s head peek through a crack in the doorway. Liz’s face lit up immediately and the tears began to flow. She had this sadly beautiful way of crying when she felt an overwhelming sense of relief: her lower lip would quiver, her eyes would open wide, and her head would tilt slightly to the left. Despite the uncertainty of the situation she was about to face, she instantly felt better when her best friend arrived. Anya and Liz went to college together at Scripps and had been almost inseparable since they had met, becoming even closer after the rest of their group of friends moved away from Southern California. They were always there for one another, but more important, Anya was always there for me, indulging Liz’s shopping fantasies when I didn’t feel like watching her try on twenty-five different outfits or listening to her drone on and on about some idea she had for redecorating the house. I never heard Liz laugh as loud or as hard as she did when she was with her best friend. Liz was always at her happiest in Anya’s company, and I was a very, very close second. Aside from the big reason that Anya was at the hospital, this day was no different than any other time they got together. They were laughing hysterically and I was rolling my eyes at their inside jokes.
A few minutes later, we heard another knock on the door. This time it was Dr. Nelson. She entered the room with a huge smile, bringing Liz even more tears of relief. Dr. Nelson shared with us information about the delivery, answered some last-minute questions, and reassured us that things were going to go great. Liz asked again if our baby would be okay if she came out today.
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “At this point it’s safer for her to be outside the womb than inside.” To illustrate the point, she unfolded the long printout, a pink and white grid with a black line representing our baby’s heart rate over the past several hours. Liz and I had become uncertified experts in reading these over the past three weeks. When Dr. Nelson without so much as a word pointed to a dramatic dip in the line, indicating a significant and prolonged drop in our baby’s heart rate, it was obvious to us that she had to come out. And soon. “Don’t worry,” Dr. Nelson continued, sensing our growing anxiety. “I’m an expert in getting them out. But I have no idea what to do with them after that. That’s going to be up to you and Matt.”
I had gotten to know Dr. Nelson quite well during the previous seven months, meeting her monthly during Liz’s checkups. She was just the kind of doctor I pictured taking care of my wife: confident, intelligent, and funny. Almost more important than being an amazing and highly skilled physician was the fact that she seemed better able to read people than most doctors. She always knew exactly what to say to Liz to make her feel better, no matter the situation. During one appointment, Liz was crushed to learn that she had not gained the