I remember the tension in the operating room. I was no doctor but I knew something wasn’t right. My little girl wasn’t breathing.
The nurses stiffened up, the humor and comments silenced. They bustled about her until the faint baby’s cry called out.
I consoled my wife and told her what had been happening. Caesarian births limit what the mother can see and do.
I followed behind the group of nurses and watched over my little girl as they verified her breathing would continue on her own. I prayed. Hours later, I held her.
2 weeks later, my little girl again encountered challenges to breathing. Her lungs and body still not accustomed and conditioned to fight for breath, would just stop. She would turn blue. An honest blue. We rushed her to the Children’s hospital.
Doctors whisked her away from us and I stood on the outer edge of the emergency room station, straining to hear and understand what could be the reason. A virus called RSV they said.
Eventually she returned to my arms and again I held her tight and said my prayers over her. She returned home and has breathed without problems ever since.
Today she turned 18. This time it’s me who feels like my breath has been taken away as I stand on the periphery of her life straining to hear and understand if she’s ready for adulthood. I pray that she is. And I pray that eventually I’ll get to hold her again.
Happy Birthday Little Girl. I love you.