Part 3: She was born 13 years ago.....

Nurses brought her in to see me after I was all stitch up and put back together. I continued hovering in this atmosphere of disbelief. I was so taken by her beauty, and the image of God that I saw within her. She was absolutely perfect and I couldn't get enough of her. They went over the techniques of nursing, gently handing her to me, and walked out of the room. For the first time in 9 months, we were both occupying the same space, now outside the body. It was so overwhelming...there was so much to take in. We sat there, both she and I, just getting to know one another. My voice, so familiar to her...her presence so familiar to me. We spent these initial moments getting acquainted with one another. Her fingers, her toes, her eyes. Her cute little birth mark on her ankle. The sweet little sproutings of light brown hair on her adorable round head. I wanted to cry for joy...but I was just too exhausted to do so. I don't remember Gregg being there to share in this moment with me. They had sent them home, as another one of the military hospital's ridiculous rules WAS he could not spend the night with me.

When they returned to take her back to the nursery, I slept restlessly, waking up off and on to the reality of being a new mother. Around noon the next day, (12 hours after Faith's birth), I began to have trouble breathing. I don't have asthma or any allergies, so it was alarming and very noticable to me. I tried to talk myself out of what I was feeling. I tried to rationalize it somehow, but it continued to get worse and worse. I eyed the red emergency button next to the bed and wondered if I should press it. Was this situation enough to warrant pressing the button? Was this a true emergency? Instead, I decided to wait for a nurse to come in and check on me. But it never happened. Hesitantly, I pressed the red button, and a nurse came in right away. I looked at her wide-eyed, as breathing became increasingly difficult, and asked her for an oxygen tank. Her visual response indicated to me that this wasn't a frequent request on the labor and delivery floor, but she turned around anyway and returned quickly, wheeling in into the room.

While placing the tubes into my nose, she asked me questions as to why I thought I needed this. I explained to her with desperation that I was having trouble breathing....feeling like I was drowning...and I had no idea why. She left without much response, and returned to the room with a man I had never seen before. He didn't seem "doctor-like" but ordered an x-ray of my lungs immediately. Before I had any idea what was happening, a gurney was wheeled into the room, and I was told I was being taken to a different hospital. Gregg simultaneously walked into the room, his first time since Faith was born, and was completely clueless as to what was going on. I heard the man abruptly ask Gregg if he knew where University Hospital was. Gregg dumbfoundedly replied, "No." "Just follow the ambulance," he ordered. And off we went...leaving our newborn baby behind.

The difficulty in breathing increased as we traveled rapidly through the streets of Oklahoma City by the sound of the ambulance. I remember wondering how I got to this point so quickly....unable to explain my desperate need for air. Upon arrival at University Hospital, I was asked a lot of questions which I barely had enough oxygen to answer. They switched from a nose tube to a mask and were hopeful that would buy me some time, until they could figure out exactly what was going on. The mouth mask made me feel worse, psychologically....as if someone was now covering my mouth, removing any chance of me taking in much needed oxygen. I ripped the mask from my mouth and told them it was making the situation worse. The nurses insisted that I wear it, and the last thing I remember was "disobeying" them. After that, my role in the story changes from active participant to innocent bystander. The main character of this God-story now becomes Gregg, with a circle of much needed friends around him, and some unwanted conversations with the hospital chaplain.