Page 130 of Goal Line
“Delayed cord clamping should help,” she says, reminding us of what we were told during delivery—that especially for preemies, waiting a minute before clamping and cutting the umbilical cord allows the baby additional access to oxygenated blood from the placenta and increases the baby’s blood volume. “If not, we’re prepared to help her until her lungs are strong enough.”
I nod to let the nurse know that she can go ahead, and watch as they clamp the cord. Our daughter doesn’t cry immediately, and I hope that’s not an indication thatsomething’s wrong. Dr. Lowery holds out a pair of surgical scissors. “You want to cut the cord?”
I take the scissors and make the cut where she indicates, trying to focus on this momentous occasion but finding that I’m wholly focused on listening for our baby’s cries. They don’t come.
The nurse rushes our daughter over to the plastic bassinet under a heat lamp, and I return to Eva’s side while trying to get a glimpse of what’s happening on the other side of the delivery room.Why hasn’t she cried yet?
Eva squeezes my hand tightly in hers, and when I look down, I see her eyes clamped shut and silent tears streaming down her face.
“I need you to rest,” Dr. Lowery says, giving Eva’s knee a small shake so she’ll open her eyes. “Can you do that for me? Because in a bit, you’re going to need to push a few more times to deliver the placenta.”
Eva nods, then looks up at me with a pleading expression. “Is she okay?”
My chest tightens as I lean back so I can see the neonatal team beyond Dr. Lowery. They’re crowded around our baby, speaking quietly. No one seems panicked, and they’re not rushing her out of here—both of which I take to be good signs.
“They’re clearing her lungs,” Dr. Lowery tells us quietly. “Usually that happens during the contractions as the baby moves through the birth canal, but sometimes with quick deliveries, like you had?—”
“That wasquick?” Eva asks. Nothing about the way I just watched her labor in pain seemed quick...but since ithappened too fast for her to get an epidural, I suppose I have to recalibrate my notion of time.
“Many first-time moms labor for at least twelve hours, and that’s before another few hours actually delivering the baby. So yes, having a baby within five hours of your water breaking is extremely quick. And sometimes that means the amniotic fluid doesn’t all get cleared from the baby’s lungs, so it needs to be suctioned out.” Dr. Lowery glances back over her shoulder. “This is all pretty standard with a preemie delivery, so try to relax while the team does their job.”
I know she’s trying to reassure us, but as I watch Eva force herself to take slow, deep breaths, I know she’s worried. So am I. So I focus on the one thing I can control in this situation, which is making sure Eva knows she’s amazing.
I lean in, resting my head on the pillow next to hers so my lips are right next to her ear. “I’m not the least bit surprised that you delivered our baby in five hours, you overachiever, you.”
Her soft chuckle is exactly the response I was hoping for.
“You did an amazing job keeping her safe this past week and bringing her into the world. She’s going to be okay?—”
The piercing wail that echoes through the room is such a relief that Eva starts crying again, and I have to wipe moisture from the corners of my eyes.
Thank god.
A moment later, the nurse is back at our side, telling us, “She needs a little extra support breathing, which is normal in this circumstance, so we're going to bring her over to the NICU to keep her on the monitor and watch her for a few hours. You can come by to see her before you go to yourroom or whenever you want. You’ll have twenty-four-hour access.”
I can tell Eva doesn’t want to be separated from our baby, that she wants the skin-to-skin contact that we know is important post-delivery. “Nothing matters more than keeping her healthy,” I remind my wife quietly, and she nods to the nurse, who turns to follow the neonatal team out of the room.
“This isn’t the delivery I wanted,” Eva whispers, and the sadness I see in her eyes breaks my heart.
“I know. But you did everything you could and now it’s up to the doctors to make sure she’s okay. What should we name her?” I ask, wishing we’d already decided on a name. It hasn’t been that long since we found out we were having a girl, and we both thought we had more time. So far, we’d ruled out names, but never settled on any we both liked.
“I really like Georgia.” It’s a name she’d never brought up before.
“Because of their peaches?” I tease.
Eva’s chuckle is soft as she closes her eyes again. “I just think Georgia Hartmann is a beautiful name. And we could call her Gigi.”
My lips curve up into a smirk. “Sounds pretentious enough to keep my family happy.”
Eva cracks her eyes open and lets her head roll to the side to look at me. “How’d you end up with the only non-pretentious name?”
“I guess my parents love me best.”
She knows I’m teasing. For most of my life, I felt like I couldn’t compete with my brothers, so I forged my own path. Now that things between the four of us feel so muchmore secure, I think it’s time to repair the final crack in my relationship with my family and talk to my dad about what I overheard in AJ’s office months ago.
“So, what doyouthink of Georgia?” she asks.
“I think after everything you went through to bring her into this world, you can name her whatever you want.”
