On Birth, Part 4...

Everything is a blur. A moment. I can feel sensations again and they hurt. A splash of color in a wilderness of pain.

The nurse came in, I started holding my breath and the baby's heart rate increased. They gave me oxygen and it went down. Then we got the news, bad news... He was face up; he had to turn before he could come out. The nurse told me that many people with babies in similar positions have to have C-sections. I started panicking. I look to Mom, to Ben, to Jessica. I pray. I turn myself inside out with the want for a child I've never seen. We pray. They lay hands on my stomach and we pray for the baby, for me, for a healthy delivery. I push and push and push and we lose his heartbeat. All the sound is sucked out of the room and I can't speak or think until I hear that familiar wooshing sound once more. He's moved lower; he's turned himself! He's coming out and, suddenly, the excavator of my bone and flesh slides out and I am empty.

I wait and look and I hear him before I see his face. They place him in my arms. I feel his slippery soft head, look into his blue eyes and wonder if any child has ever been this perfect. I am delivered unto him. I am his and he is mine... ours.

They take him away and my arms feel empty in a way they have never experienced. When they bring him back he is much cleaner, and they lay him on my chest. He looks at me and we look at each other, overwhelmed by the sense of-- everything. But, he is here.

Gabriel.