The Day She Died, The Last Time I Held Her

I'd had c-sections with both Levi and Seth (only times in my life I wished that I had bigger hips), and my experience had been that 12-24 hours after the surgery, the nurses want you to get out of bed, start moving around, and take a trip to the bathroom.  It's miserable and hard and painful.  But... you hear the sweet little squeaks and cries of the newborn behind you in his daddy's arms, and it's totally worth the misery and pain.  :-)

The day she died, I hadn't been out of a bed since about 9 or 9:30pm on her birthday - the last time I threw the monitor cords over my shoulder and waddled to the bathroom.  And that day, October 6, nobody was making me get out of bed.  My nurse didn't say anything about it.  I remember her using the phrase 'special circumstances' in reference to how long they were waiting to get me to move around.

So I laid in the bed with Elliana on my chest the first half of the day, into the early hours of the afternoon.  Jason held her some.  I tried to share.  :-)  

I couldn't see her face well when she was laying on me.  I could see her little blond head, and I could pick up her hand with my finger and look at her tiny little fingers, but I couldn't see her face.  I don't think I realized that until I moved her as we got ready to put her in the bassinet and let the nurses keep her when Elijah came.  I remember that Jason left the room to go get the bassinet.  That's when I pushed the button to raise the head of my bed.  I moved her from my chest to my lap.

She was so cold.  And so limp.

I remember that as I moved her to my lap and could see her face, the ache just got deeper, and there were more tears.  Aching because I never got to see her eyes open.  Aching because I wanted to see her eyes open.  I wanted the nightmare to stop and for my little girl to just wake up.

And aching because I knew that she wasn't going to wake up.  I remember seeing how her color had changed even more.  Her skin was darker.  The extra fold of skin on her upper lip looked different.  

I remember seeing Elliana and whispering to her, and bringing her close to my face so I could kiss her forehead.  And wishing that I could just make her warm again.  Longing to do something to make her warm again.

Seeing her and seeing how her appearance had changed - I felt like I could finally decide on a time for Funeral Home Man to come.  

6:30pm.  Jason and I decided that he could come at 6:30.

After family left that afternoon, we had a couple more hours with her.  We just held her.  I stroked her hair with my finger - a lot.  

Why didn't I think to ask them to cut a lock of it for me?

**BASEBALL BATS AND WINE BOTTLES**

I remember looking at the clock several times.  Dreading 6:30.

Funeral Home Man arrived at 6:37 carrying a basket lined with blankets.

I don't think there's any way to describe that last moment holding her, and then handing her to Jason.  And I don't think I can describe what it was like watching Jason put her in the basket, making sure she was snuggled carefully and tucked in.

Pain.  It was just pain.  

It's still pain. 

I remember asking if I could see her one more time.  I just wanted to look at her once more, and touch her one more time. 

And then she was gone.  

And I was stuck in a hospital bed, sobbing, not being able to comprehend what had just happened or imagine how I was going to survive.

One more time.  I just wanted to hold her again.

I know I will hold her again.  And it won't just be once more.  It'll be for eternity.  

But I miss holding her now.