After three attempts to walk to the bathroom with my legs buckling underneath me enough of the epidural had finally worn off that I could take small steps. With Darlene on one side of me and Brian on the other I made it to the bathroom. Darlene brought a wheelchair and I was escorted to my post partum room where I met my new nurse for the rest of the night.
Brian and I were left to settle ourselves into the room and he asked me what Baby Girl's name was. I don't know. All I could say was "I don't know." I didn't even really get to see her. At some point in between contractions we had narrowed it down to two names. And I just couldn't pick one without seeing her. He had already been to the NICU to make sure she was ok there. Thank God for him. I couldn't go with her.
My nurse wanted me to rest and sleep since it had been such a long day. I said I had to see my baby. It was 1:00am and I didn't care. It had been 3.5 hours since she was taken away by strangers to a cold room without her mother to comfort her after the trauma of being born. At least that's how I felt. My nurse brought a wheelchair.
Brian wheeled me down to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and to Baby Girl's isolette, #7. There were about 12 other babies in the NICU, all in various degrees of health. By the time I got to see her she already had an IV in her hand, leads on her chest and a pulse oximeter on her foot. She was in a box. I cried. I met her nurse and she even let me hold her briefly. Not too long because she needed to be in the temperature controlled isolette, but I got to hold her. It was amazing. She was so tiny. Tiny and perfect and absolutely beautiful and I cried. Again.
Brian smiled at me and said "I think I know what her name is, but what do you think?" I knew too. I looked up at him and we both said it: Megan Allison.
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