Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [16]
I was jolted from my thoughts by one of the nurses, who asked if I would like to cut the umbilical cord. Of course, I thought. Then another thought: Holy shit! That must be the longest umbilical cord of all time. I mean, I had no idea how this usually goes, but I didn’t know the thing could stretch from Liz’s womb all the way to the sink on the other side of the room. I soon realized that my cutting of the cord was a mostly symbolic gesture, because when the nurse lifted the blanket and uncovered our baby, I saw that she was already untethered from Liz—there was just a small, one-and-a-half-inch piece of cord pinched off by a little plastic clip. I grabbed the scissors from the nurse and struggled to get the two blades to slice through the sinuous, rubberlike thing that had kept our child well fed for the last thirty-three weeks.
Suddenly, I heard Liz’s voice; she sounded far more alert than she had during the delivery. “Can I see my baby?” I turned toward her as she strained to see the child she’d dreamed about all her life. The nurse walked toward her with our daughter, and I asked if I could take a photo. She responded, “Make it fast—we have to get your baby to the NICU.” I grabbed my camera and snapped a couple of photos of Liz getting her first look at our daughter, Madeline Elizabeth Logelin.
In the commotion, however, I failed to immediately process the words spoken by the nurse. NICU? What the fuck? I thought our baby was doing great. The thrill I felt was replaced by equal parts dread and fear. Dr. Nelson stepped in to explain: “Madeline looks great, but we need to get her to the NICU to confirm.”
I tried to remain calm for Liz. She was just coming down from the high of the pain medication, and the last thing she needed was to have me in a panic. While the nurse wheeled her to the recovery room, I went to get Anya from the waiting room. I knew that Liz would need us both.
When we arrived, Liz was in good spirits but was still reeling from the drugs. She was calmer than I expected. I held her hand as she and Anya talked, but I don’t remember a word of what they said. I was anxious to see our baby and to confirm that she was okay, but I couldn’t leave Liz. It was impossible to reconcile those feelings. Where do my loyalties lie? I thought. And where should they lie? With the woman of my dreams and the mother of my child, or with the child to whom she just gave birth, the child who was born seven weeks early? I’d never felt a pull this strong. The only thing even kind of similar was when I had to decide whom to cheer for when the Los Angeles Dodgers played the Minnesota Twins in interleague play—and I assure you, that didn’t come close.
“Liz, I’m gonna go check on Maddy,” I blurted out.
“I see how it is,” she said. “I’m already number two.”
Shit. I felt awful, but then she gave me a smile to show that she was just fucking with me. I grabbed my camera and calmly walked out the door. As soon as it closed behind me I started running—I just had to get to our daughter. I stopped in front of the window with all the babies, and only then did I realize that I had no idea where the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was. I had walked by the regular nursery every single day and that was where I had expected to see Madeline, but things hadn’t really happened the way they were supposed to. I knocked and someone buzzed me in; I stuck my head just inside the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Can you tell me where the NICU is?”
“Down the hall to the right.”
Without so much as a thanks, I bolted down the hallway and made my way inside. A nurse stopped me. “Sir. Are you Madeline’s dad?”
“Yes I am.” Madeline’s dad. Wow. I understood then that I would forever be defined by my relationship to my child. It felt amazing.
Pointing at the window in front of her desk she said, “Madeline’s in here. You need to remove your ring and wash your hands and arms up to your elbows for at least two minutes before