A friend of mine had a baby today and, here although I was at work, sovaldi I was checking for updates the moment I went on my break and as soon as I got out of work. The close knit group I am a part of has been anticipating this day since the moment she and her husband announced their first baby was on the way. I can just imagine the squeals of excitement we all made when we got the news that the doctors had decided that they needed to induce labor (for health reasons).

Both my friend and her husband kept everyone up to date.  It was like a baseball game “play by play”.

“Doctors have administered Pitocin.”

“4 cm dilated.”

“Ermahgerd! That epidural needle is huge!”

“Almost time to push!”

And then… media silence.

We waited for hours to hear an update. Hours.

We finally received more news about 4-7 hours later. It was heavenly news. Her baby girl had been born at about 1 o’clock PM. Beautiful and healthy.

As I’m writing this, I know that some people may find a problem with the way I worded what I’ve written up to this point.

“Why were you so impatient? She just had a baby. Give her a break.”

I’m trying to prove a point.

I, like any new mother, know how important that time after a child is born is. The mother is tired. The father (if he’s around) is also very tired. The child is tired. Everyone is tired.  But the point that I’m trying to make is that her main concern in that moment had nothing to do with taking pictures and sending them to her friends online. Her main concern was her baby. She was concerned with holding, feeding, looking at, and loving her baby girl.

You never realize just how precious that time with your baby is until they take him/her away.


Looking back to Neylan’s arrival, I’ll admit, I still tear up. I still remember the look on the faces of the doctors and nurses and how the only person who kept her sanity told my husband to tell me about my son. I also believe that she, Mary, was the only reason I was able to hold him at all.

When a doctor thinks a child has a horrible defect, especially one they’ve never heard of or seen before, they go into panic mode. I saw the looks and confusion and I was concerned. The midwife must have called the pediatrician on call, because I met her some time later that night and she had a ” diagnosis”.

When I was finally given my son, I held him, kissed him, fed him, and loved him… but I also took and posted whatever pictures I could. I wanted to take those pictures and share them as soon as possible because I had already been told they would be taking him to Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center. I had already been told that he was going to have surgery in the first 24 hours of his life.

I also admit to having and enjoying a little break from him before they brought him back to me from the nursery. I needed some time to process what was going on and I needed some rest… but when the transport medical team came to take him at 2 AM, I gave him over very reluctantly. My mother slept next to me in the hospital room that night, because my husband drove up to Lebanon behind the ambulance, and I know she heard me sob myself to sleep.


For some reason I had to say all this to get out how glad I am that she took so long to finally post pictures. She spent that precious time with her husband and her baby girl. Precious time… that I know so many mothers wish they had. And even in my tears, I realize I’m luckier than some who never had the chance to hold their newborn babes before they were taken to be medically cared for.

I know I’ve grown through my suffering with this, because I no longer am envious of the mothers and their babies that have it “better” than me and mine. I admit that the healthy babies in the past years have caused me heart ache, and I’m ashamed to admit it. I can honestly say now that I don’t feel that anymore. The only heartache I feel is remembering how I felt and now I can find the silver lining even in that.

So today… I thank God for a healthy baby girl, her happy healing mother, and joyous father. Today, I thank God for continued freedom from guilt. Today, I thank God for healing from pain.

God bless this little “song”.

Megan A.K.A. “Mom”