The cheerful nurse put the monitor on and quickly found a heartbeat. I saw a smile come over my husband's face and felt the tears coming again. I had heard my baby's heartbeat many times and I knew this wasn't it. It was my own. The nurse confirmed my fear as her smile turned to a concerned look.
Everything was pointing to a disaster. It was at this time that my mind seemed to split from my body. Perhaps I couldn't cope with what was happening. It was as if it weren't me lying there on that bed; it was like watching a scene from a movie. My thinking changed, too; instead of instinctively knowing that something was wrong, I started believing my baby would be OK. The mind can play some very strange tricks when you're in distress.
My physician, Dr. Raj Ramanna, placed his stethoscope on my heart while the nurse took my pulse. I was barely conscious at this point. I remember them saying the number 98 over and over again. It was only one heart rate – mine.
They finally stopped counting. The doctor looked into my eyes and said, "I'm so sorry, there's no heartbeat."
"No!" I shouted – not out of despair, but to inform him of his colossal error. My baby might be in distress, but she is not dead, I thought to myself. I watched the kind doctor console my husband and felt almost smug as I pictured how shocked they would be when they heard my baby cry.
'I was physically and mentally numb'
The C-section went ahead that day. Upon the delivery, I held my breath and waited for the cry that I was convinced would come. I was wrong. The room stayed silent until I heard the doctor say quietly, "Cord around the neck." He told us later that the cord was wrapped around her neck six times and that it had probably been wound ever tighter since early in the pregnancy.
I was physically and mentally numb. Ramanna asked me if I wanted to hold my baby. I flatly refused; if I didn't hold her, this whole nightmare would not be real.
A nurse took us to a dark, private room, where we were joined by my husband's parents, brother, sister and grandparents. They all took turns holding and rocking our baby. It was beautiful to watch them all fall in love with her.
But I couldn't hold her. My husband sat beside me cradling our little bundle, and I looked at her face for the first time. She seemed so beautiful and peaceful wrapped in a blanket and wearing a pink knitted cap. Her hair was dark like mine, but with her round face and fine features, she was a miniature version of her dad. We named her Elizabeth, after my beloved grandmother.
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