Luke and his Daddy were whisked off to the NICU to make sure that there were no other problems than the apparent AMC. I was left with the surgeons and the sweetest OB nurse ever to work. (Just a note about my amazing nurses. I was hospitalized earlier in my pregnancy and met a very sweet nurse during my 24 hour stay, when I went in to be induced with Mr. Luke she happened to be working again and she chose to be our nurse. Then when Luke didn't come and didn't come it was time for our nurse to go home to her sweet family....the nurse who replaced her was amazing but not somebody I had a connection with. When it was time to go for the section the 2nd nurse they pulled in to help was a wonderfully friendly face from our homeschool co-op. So along every step of our unique set of circumstances God provided us with loving faces. )
The hospital had a rule about seeing babies in the NICU after a section. You could visit the baby once you could move your toes. While my husband was with him I was OK to rest but since Luke was born in the middle of the night his Daddy couldn't stay with him very long. So I started to become a little panicky. I wanted to be with my baby all I could think was this little baby who had been surrounded by love for the last 9 months was now laying among strangers. I just needed to be with him. Every few minutes I would try to wiggle my toes. I couldn't do it. I knew I should be resting I hadn't slept in close to 48 hours but all I could do was focus on my baby.
Hours and hours past and finally 4 hours later I could wiggle my toes enough to satisfy the nurses. My husband was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb him and it was almost time for shift change and my nurse knew I couldn't handle being made to wait any longer so she hurried and got me ready to go meet my son.
What seemed like forever finally passed and I was wheeled into the NICU. We passed baby after baby and then as if by instinct I knew when we got to baby Luke, He was sleeping so sweetly and contently. His nurse said he had eaten after they bathed him when he arrived and he had been sleeping ever since. I asked to be able to hold him and they lifted him gently into my arms. His sweet small, warm body filled my arms and my heart.
I spent the next hour getting to know him...counting his toes and his fingers...touching his hair...smelling his sweet baby smell. I don't have pictures of that first meeting because I just couldn't be bothered in that moment to care to ask someone to do the favor, but it is filed away with the most important memories.
To be honest once I was holding him the AMC didn't seem as bad or as scary. Yes his little feet were twisted and his wrists were tightly held in a drooping position but it seemed OK. He couldn't move his left arm at all on his own but both elbow joints worked smoothly. He seemed perfect. I couldn't tell you if the amount of research that I did helped to make me feel more peaceful or not but I do know that I didn't worry. I knew the basic treatment plan and really in that moment it just didn't matter. It would work out...it would be a long road but it would work out.
Finally my nurse said I needed to go but I could come back soon....it was hard parting but he was doing great.