As we drove to the hospital we decided your name. Reese Abigail. Reese means enthusiasm. Abigail, father in rejoicing. It was perfect.
We checked in, daddy ate lunch, I had preliminary work done and then I walked the hall to the OR. I sat on the operating table while the anesthesiologist proceeded. Daddy and then Dr. Shimer entered and within the hour, you had arrived. Perfect. Seven pounds, seven ounces. Twenty inches long. FULL head of hair. A sweet little cry. Daddy went with you to the nursery where, through the glass, he showed you off to the family.
I was wheeled into recovery and you came back. The nurse laid you on my chest and encouraged us to just bond. No need to nurse right away. But she didn't know. She didn't know that our bond had already solidified before you took your first breath. You nestled in, rooted, nursed, then showed us how strong you were at two hours old by pushing off my chest, holding your head high, then passing out. It was precious. And I didn't think it was possible but at that moment you felt more a part of me than ever before.
Soon after we found ourselves in our postpartum room, waiting to see your brother. The nurses kept you for a few minutes so Asher could get acclimated to seeing me on the hospital bed, all hooked up. Then the nurses brought you in. You were placed in my arms where Asher met you for the first time. He was sweet and a little curious about you. Also, a little hesitant. But he touched your swaddle, your face. He came close for pictures. He would soon learn what being a big brother was all about.
All fresh and new, you were as sweet as can be and I didn't want to let you go. Ever. Your way was relaxed, your cries were few. You were the perfect addition to our family.