Precious Memories

It was just another one of those relaxed, nothing pressing to do days, that I had the joy of spending with my daughter, Krystal. What started out as a day of fun and games ended with serene joy. I now sit here reflecting on that day and all the new memories that were added and the old ones it brought to mind - memories that I will cherish when my little baby is all grown up.

Earlier that day we were playing a game of hide and seek and I had the pleasure of being the one to hide, of course. Keep in mind that my daughter was only one and a half years old; therefore, there was no counting or closing of eyes involved in our games.

The game began as I dashed from the living room, hoping that she'd give me a few seconds before she took off in hot pursuit. I ran through the kitchen, into the utility room and ducked quickly into the bathroom and behind the door. I've got her this time! She'll think I ran on through the bathroom and into the bedroom!

I stood there patting myself on the back until I realized that she hadn't darted by the bathroom door yet. The door was standing open with me lodged between it and the commode; my back to the crack in the door. Maybe I'll just turn and peek through the crack here to see if she's in the utility room. I slowly turned to look through the slit in the door and I heard the faintest little giggle. There, on the other side of that crack, stood a three-foot, thirty-pound imp peeking at me.

"I see you!!!" she exclaimed with laughter and triumph. I burst into laughter as she came around the door to "get me." She had turned the tables on me and used my 'clever idea' to her benefit. Unable to stop laughing I picked her up and held her close. While we enjoyed the moment of hilarity I couldn't help but think of the day that this precious little bundle of joy entered my life.

Unlike some mothers I don't remember her first cry or what she looked like as they took her to be measured, cleaned and diapered. Many times I'm asked "did you have a bad labor?" or "do you remember the pain?" I never know just exactly what they mean by the words 'bad' or 'pain.'

It's possible, when a person considers the facts my labor may sound 'bad' or 'painful.' I started labor at 11:30 p.m. the day before I was scheduled to be induced (she was already late). When I arrived at the hospital my contractions slowed significantly and they put me on pitocin, used to induce or speed up labor. After approximately twenty-four hours of labor my doctor decided that Krystal was not going to enter the world on her own, and I was prepped for a caesarian section.

My memories of that span of time prior to seeing my daughter are only facts; they don't include emotion or the physical pain. The emotion I remember began when I was being wheeled onto the elevator to surgery. I told my mother I was scared, and she asked, "Do you remember what I told you the last time you had surgery?" My mind flew back in time. I squeezed her hand, smiled with memory, and thought, I'll pray and before you know it I will have a baby girl in my arms.

The next emotion I remember is fear - my mind raced as I struggled against the restraints.

"Stop fighting! " someone yelled.

The light blinded me as I looked up in terror. I can't breathe!

"You need to relax and breathe!" came from beyond the light.

I'm gagging! Help me! I wanted to scream but I couldn’t. I tried…

Krystal Anne Bennett was born in the surgery room at 11:46 p.m. March 19, 1993 weighing 9 lbs., 10 oz and measuring 20 1/2" long.

Slowly I opened my eyes, the light shone with calm serenity while my body was heavy with exhaustion. Just then the nurse asked, "Are you ready to see your baby?" I nodded, closing my eyes in relief - it's all going to be ok. I felt the bed moving toward the elevator; we were on our way to the hospital room and my baby! I struggled to keep my eyes open, I have to see her before I go back to sleep, I thought, when I heard, "Would you like to see your baby now"? We had stopped in front of the nursery window and I slowly nodded my head trying to lift myself up, quickly realizing I didn't have the strength and my head was spinning.

"Look! There she is - the nurse in the window is holding YOUR baby."

I looked through the window, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion, left over anesthesia and pain medication; as my vision cleared I saw my perfect little baby girl lying peacefully in the nurses arms.

At that moment any physical pain that I may have felt was instantly wiped from my memory and replaced by overwhelming joy and love. The exhilaration of seeing my child, a perfect and innocent creation, is what will be etched in my memory forever. What often gets lost when asking about the labor is the reality that each precious moment spent with that beautiful child is more than enough to compensate for any discomfort I may have felt for a few short hours. To date (7/7/07) I have already spent 5226 days loving and caring for that precious bundle of joy. All the happiness and love that we have shared has more than made up for any discomfort I may have felt during those twenty-four hours of effort to bring her into the world. Each new day brings many more priceless moments that I add to that first memory. None of them, however, will ever be as vivid or as meaningful.