It’s 9:04AM Thursday. We're at hospital for a routine non-stress test on baby. I'm sitting in the car waiting for appointment to be over as Tamar texts me, “come now, baby just had a bad decel,” “getting rushed to triage,” meaning baby's heart rate dropped during a bad contraction. Tamar was then rushed from one side of the hospital with 3-4 nurses escorting her to triage. Yes, just like in the movies. In the meantime, I’m running from the parking lot into triage, wondering if Tamar’s doing fine. I finally get to triage, and Tamar’s face was indescribable. Emelia’s heart rate goes back to normal. Tamar is calmer. Doc decides to induce labor. About 2 hrs pass, as nurse is explaining the process of inducing and going through hospital protocols, the stuff one just nods and says yes, Emelia has another decel. 4-5 nurses rush in all calm. They try to get baby’s heart rate back on the monitor. The nurses all seem calm. I’m freaking out inside. I’m holding Tamar’s hand trying to calm her down. Of course being the man, one can’t show it. They wheel Tamar into the operating room for an emergency C-section. They hand me a gown, cap for my non-existent hair, mask, etc, and explain the types of anesthesia they will administer to Tamar. Tamar gets the spinal, but it traveled up towards her chest causing her to not be able to breathe properly. So anesthesiologist gives general anesthesia to put Tamar under completely. While this happens, I hear on the PA system several times, “rapid response team needed in OR1,” “rapid OB team needed in OR1,” several times. My wife just got wheeled in there. I think she’s in OR1. Um, heart rate goes up like I was just in an p90x workout. “Can someone come and talk to me in the corner?”
10 minutes later I hear the lullaby over the PA system of when a baby is born. I can’t tell if that’s ours. A nurse comes out to explain what happened. My heart rate calms down. I take the gown off. Now I wait to see both girls. Nurse explains that Tamar has to go to recovery and won’t be awake for a while. But I can go meet Emelia. Tamar is going to be upset that I see her first. As I wait to go up and meet Emi, nurse comes over to say, “did you get the time she was born?” “No.” “It was 11:38AM.” Tears started. It became a reality. Yes, as cheesy and cliche as that sounds. It’s real. She’s here. Emelia Nayri is named after both our sisters. Melia is Lori’s middle name and Nayri is my sister’s name. So we wanted to honor them this way. She has one morkour (Armenian for sister from mother’s side) and one horkour (Armenian for sister from father’s side).
I go to see this girl and all I see is the hair on her head and the bright pinkish red. At 5 lbs 7 oz, this petite girl held on to my finger like it was a matter of life and death. As she got pricked for the first time to check her blood sugar, she started wailing. All I could do is console her, saying it’s going to be alright. Like she will remember any of this?! Like she will remember I said that. I’m remembering the wailing though. I saw the back of her throat. The veins in her throat popping because of her yelling.
All I could think of was the God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit relationship. I finally understood a glimmer of the pain the Father felt as His Son dealt with the excruciating pain of the cross for us. It wasn’t a little prick for a blood sugar test. It was whip after whip after whip. It was nails. It was a crown for a King. It was suffocating. It was unimaginable pain. All I could do is hold Emi’s little hands and say it’s going to be ok. I can’t even imagine what God the Father did as He saw His dear Son get crucified. Jesus’ pain was not to see if his blood sugar was high. Jesus’ pain and torture was so that we as man and woman are free of eternal pain and separation from God. Jesus’ pain and torture was so that one day I can stand in the Father’s presence instead of enduring the pain and torture. Hopefully one day, Emi will understand this as well. What a lesson to learn as Palm Sunday and Easter are in a couple weeks.
How can this whole process of womb to real world be attested to randomness? How can one not see an amazing Creator? Everything in the anatomy designed too perfectly to be random, sorry it just can’t be. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit designed it perfectly. Thank you for Emi’s big eyes, hair, warmth, and cuteness. She has come into the world with such a story. I’m sure Tamar will have a better way of telling the stories. I’ll stick to the 18MM lens.
