The Baby We Prayed For pt. 1 (b)

part 1 here

The next events were all a blur.  I got placed in a room.  A small birthing room with peach colored wallpapered walls.  Nurses, doctors, people seemed to keep coming and going, in and out.  Hooking me to this and to that.  So little was explained to us.  The nurses only told me to try to remain as still as possible.  All along Robert was by my side, my right side, almost in the recess of the room.
     After checking me and noting that I was dilated to a 2 and confirming that I was indeed in labor Doctor One came in.  With that we were finally acknowledged and things started getting explained.  "It could be this or that.  This could happen or that could happen." Dr. One went on.  "We are hoping the baby will be born in the sac so we can keep it alive as long as possible."
     "Keep it alive...as long as possible."  Thud.  Those words hit us hard.  I looked at Robert with panic in my eyes and pain in my heart.  I willed my body to keep the sac intact, to stop this from happening.  It didn't.  My water broke as I went into full labor a little after Doctor Two came on duty.
     Our midwife left after she had done all she could do.  Leaving us in this strange room with these strange people.  At one point a nurse rolled in a big machine I think it was an incubator.  Then it rolled back on out.  The scene was becoming all too real too fast.
     There was one nurse who stood out.  Kim was a tall, sturdy built woman with short dark brown hair.  I started to look to her as my anchor.  I needed something to hold onto.  She was our main nurse.  Though I don't remember her saying much I do know that when she did speak it was with words of solid, sturdy kindness.  Words that said, "This really sucks and it is hard.  You can do this.  You're going to make it."
     The labor was quick, not painless, but quick.  I only dilated to a 4, but that was all I needed.  I still had to push and to labor to get our baby out.  Once she popped out our nurse with the dark brown hair carried her away.  All we could see was a tiny, very tiny red baby in her sturdy arms.  The way she carried our baby is etched in my mind for all of time.  She didn't cradled our baby.  Her arms were bent, elbows together under her chest. Our baby lying where her arms met.
     Everything in that room the whole time was quiet, clinical, like no one wanted to be there doing this, living this.
     As I watched our baby being carried away to the nursery or wherever they took babies born too early, I remember asking whether we had a boy or a girl.  A girl. Our girl.  I am sure I prayed, we prayed throughout the whole ordeal.  I am sure we held each others hands, talked a bit, trying to make sense of it all.  I know I wanted to see her, to hold her, touch her.  While at the same time I wanted the doctors and nurses to do all they could to keep our baby alive.  To get her stabilized so she could make it.