Two Kisses for Maddy_ A Memoir of Loss & Love - Matthew Logelin [18]
I didn’t want to leave Madeline, but I knew I had to report back to Liz before she jumped out of bed and made her way down here by herself. I snapped a couple of photos before giving my daughter’s shoulder a few more strokes, and then I closed the doors to both of the armholes and headed for the door. Before walking out of the room, I paused and turned back toward the doctor. “Can you tell me how big she is?”
He looked down at the chart on the desk in front of him. “Three pounds, thirteen and a half ounces, and seventeen and a quarter inches long.” Statistics I’ll never forget.
Back down in the recovery room, I gave Liz and Anya the rundown, relaying everything the doctor told me and emphasizing the part about Madeline doing great, considering how early she was born. They both seemed relieved.
Liz’s eyes lit up with excitement when I offered to show her photos of our baby. I pulled up what I had taken in the delivery room, followed by the ones I had just taken in the NICU. “Oh my God! Is she okay?” I could hear the panic in her voice and immediately realized that I should’ve withheld the photos of Madeline in the box, wires protruding, her face covered by the oxygen tube. I reassured her that our baby was going to be okay, as the doctor had done for me.
The nurse in the room piped in, as if to take some of the pressure off me. “The doctor told me that you’ll be able to see your daughter in twenty-four hours.”
That didn’t help as much as any of us hoped, though. “I want to see her now. How can we make this happen?” Liz was a great deal maker, but this was one negotiation she wasn’t going to win, and the nurse told her so.
Soon after, we said good-bye to Anya, and Liz was wheeled into her postdelivery room. It was different from the one she had been in for the previous three weeks, but all our things had already been moved for us, including the uncomfortable armchair on which I’d been sleeping. We settled in and I made phone calls to our parents, telling them the good news. My mom and Liz’s parents had found flights and would arrive in Los Angeles that evening. Liz napped. I listened to some new music and updated the blog:
madeline was born
at 11:56 am (march 24, 2008)
at a bruising 3 pounds, 13.5 ounces.
17.25 inches long (almost as tall as her mom at age 30).
kidding of course, but liz is really short
and baby is really long.
we’ve been joking over the past few days…
if madeline gets daddy’s height and mommy’s looks,
everything will be okay.
if it goes the other way, she’s in trouble.
thankfully she’s long…
and beautiful.
Eventually a doctor entered the room, waking Liz to tell her the same things about Madeline that I had already shared, and to confirm what she had been told earlier: she had to remain in the hospital bed for twenty-four hours before she could get up to see, feed, or touch Madeline. He informed us of our daughter’s schedule: “She’ll be fed every three hours through the tube in her mouth. Matt, you can come in and feed her anytime. You’ll also be able to change her diapers.” For the first time in my life, the idea of changing a diaper sounded like the greatest thing in the world.
By the time the doctor left, Liz’s whole demeanor had changed. I think she felt better hearing the information from a real doctor rather than just from me, but she was still extremely disappointed that she couldn’t be with Madeline immediately. “She’s not even going to know her mom! She’ll already be so attached to you by the time I get to see her.”
I assured