Early Thanksgiving day, Jenny delivered our baby.
That evening and on into the morning, the maternity ward was so busy. I think the nurses and our midwife told us later that something like 11 babies were born that night.
That’s a lot of babies.
When it was almost time for our baby to be born, the nurse that was helping Jenny told her that the baby was almost here…and not to push any more until our midwife could come back into our room.
The midwife was in the room next door delivering another woman’s baby.
After 9 months of waiting, Jenny waited a little longer.
When the midwife came back into our room, she told Jenny to push…and a short while later…a very short while…our baby was born.
I can’t describe what happened any more simply.
There were a lot of babies born that night on that maternity ward. It was a busy night for everyone.
There wasn’t anything all that uncommon about babies that night. There were a lot of new babies. We’d come to the right place to be around a bunch of new babies.
But every single one of those new babies was someone’s miracle.
I’m not sure how any of the other people really felt about their baby. I hope they all saw the miracle. I suspect that they did. It’s hard to say about anyone else, really.
This little girl that we held in our arms was our miracle. There wasn’t any doubt of that.
One moment she wasn’t…and then, suddenly, she is. She wasn’t in the world…and now she is.
I don’t know what could be more miraculous.
Trying to describe how it felt and what it all means is kind of like trying to take a picture of a sunrise. You can’t really do it. No words are going to be enough to share what that felt like to see our baby for the first time.
So I’ll stop trying to say what can’t really be said.
Our baby was one of many…one of many born on Thanksgiving day on a small maternity ward in a relatively small hospital in a small city on the western side of North Carolina.
She was “just another”. She was just another baby.
So why does it feel like the whole Universe has opened up again?