Today, when we arrived at the Anaheim NICU, the nurse on caring for Simone told Mandy that as soon as she had scrubbed (every time we enter the NICU we have to scrub from fingertip to elbow for 2 minutes) Simone would be put in her arms for some skin to skin time. Even though the same nurse had told us yesterday this might be a possibility, Mandy tried not to get her hopes up. She just didn't want to be too disappointed in case Simone wasn't ready. Mandy waited in the rocking chair they brought her while other nurses spread curtained screens around us for privacy. As soon as Mandy had Simone against her chest she burst into tears. The nurse was alarmed at first but soon realized that Mandy was simply overwhelmed by the pleasure of holding her daughter. Eventually she calmed down and settled comfortably into the moment. A few minutes later, the echocardiograph technician arrived, but the nurse headed him off at the door. "Mom and baby need this moment more than they need the test done right now," we heard her say.
Mother and daughter were together at last. Mandy had been waiting for this moment for over a week, agonizing at the fact that they had been separated. Not to say that fathers aren't loving, attentive, caring, or involved with their babies, but there is something about the bond between a mother and her child that defies logic, can overturn physics, and can make everyone in the room weep with happiness.
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