Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [17]
I stepped inside and was stopped by a male doctor who introduced himself and immediately started telling me about Madeline. “She’s doing great, considering how early she was born.” He told me that she was in an incubator to help regulate her temperature, and she had a tube covering her nose to deliver her oxygen. He said that this was merely a precaution and he thought they’d be able to remove it in the next couple of hours since she appeared to be breathing just fine on her own. He then explained that she had a feeding tube in her mouth, running directly into her stomach because at her gestational age, she had yet to develop the ability to suck and swallow. I was so concerned about my baby’s health that I couldn’t even laugh at the double entendre.
“Let’s go see her,” he said, walking me into the room. There was a see-through plastic box and a small, handwritten sign with her name—Madeline Elizabeth—and the words Welcome Baby Girl.
Inside was our baby, on top of the same blue, pink, and white striped blanket that had covered her when she left the delivery room. She was now loosely covered by another blanket, this one with multicolored hearts. I tensed up at the sight of my daughter’s face covered in an oxygen mask, tubes and wires peeking out from under her blanket, running through to the monitors next to her box.
The sounds of the machines humming and beeping put me into a trancelike state. Those few minutes with my daughter seemed like hours. There she was: out of the womb and into our world. I couldn’t help but think how fragile she looked—she had seemed more robust just seconds after delivery. Our baby. I watched her chest. Was it moving? Yes. Up and down, however slightly. I relaxed a bit. As scary as things looked with the oxygen tube and all the wires, and as unsure as I was about the situation, I reminded myself that she was being taken care of by an amazing group of doctors and nurses. For the first time since Liz had gone on bed rest, I felt oddly content that everything was going to be okay.
“Would you like to touch her?”
The words that brought me out of my thoughts. Touch her? I thought. Why can’t I hold her? Wasn’t she supposed to be in Liz’s arms by now, just finishing up her first breast-feeding, then being lulled to sleep by Liz’s rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” while I filmed the whole thing? I guess I hadn’t thought of the logistics. With all of the wires and tubes, there was no way she could be in my arms. Then I wondered how long she’d be in that box. Liz was a rather impatient person, and I knew that she’d want to hold Madeline right away and take her home as soon as possible.
“Please,” I answered. The doctor unlocked the hinged plastic that covered the armholes, then stepped out of the way and nodded at the box.
I moved toward it and reached both of my hands inside, careful not to disturb any of the wires. Madeline was lying on her right side. I reached my left hand underneath the oxygen tube so I could touch her head, and I slowly rubbed the small patch of skin not covered by the straps that secured it to her head. It felt so soft. I studied every last bit of her, starting from the top down. With her hat now off, I could see that she had a covering of light blonde hair. I touched it, feeling a few strands between my thumb and my forefinger. They felt like tiny threads of silk. Her skin was light pink in color, and it almost appeared to be gently coated in white velvet. Her eyes were still closed. I wondered if they stayed closed for a few days, like a baby raccoon or something. I had heard that babies have very pliable heads, and I was seriously concerned that the straps securing the oxygen tube to her face would leave a permanent imprint on her head and cheeks. On her left arm was a little pink splint that appeared to hold the IV in place.
Just then I wondered about her fingers and toes again.