Beckett is 5

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Five years ago, today, we brought home the most incredible gift from God.
A baby boy we named Beckett.



I am forever thankful for the day you were given to your daddy and I. There will never be another day like it. You are everything. Nothing compares to you. Nothing.

This is your story.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012:

After 10 hours of contractions that never seemed to align the way they should, daddy drives me to the hospital, against triage’s advisory. I was prepared to be sent home. The time is 9am.

We are checked into triage and discover your water bag had broken. This surprises me. The triage nurse explains that (likely) your water bag had broken high in my stomach. I only experienced a trickle of that water spilling over when I had a tough contraction. My intuition was right, you are (almost) ready for this world. The time is 9:30am.

I receive an epidural and try to rest. I am excited. I am already so proud of our journey together. The time is 11:30am.

A handful of nurses rush into our room. Without explanation I am spread open, an internal heart rate monitor is placed on the top of your head, while you’re still in my womb. I look at daddy for answers and reassurance but he’s as frightened as I am. Tears stream down my face. Something is wrong. Your heart rate dropped below the acceptable range. You were being deprived of oxygen. They call this Bradycardia. The time is 1pm.

The next hour passes cautiously. You recover, but I am shaken. My cervix is dilated to 5cm and is completely thinned out. You are taking your time. The time is 2pm.

Several different levels of Pitocin are administered to help dilate my cervix. I try without success to turn once more to my left side and we experience the same Bradycardia as before. I do not move off my sore right side, this is where you are comfortable, this is where we remain. For nearly seven hours we wait, we do not make progress. The time is 9pm.

Cesarian Section. I knew it was coming, but this was not my plan. I break down, exhausted, sleep-deprived and uncomfortable. I feel defeated. I sign the documents. The time is 9:30pm.

I am prepped, drugged and ready for surgery. It all happens so quickly. I am afraid. My whole body shakes uncontrollably. The surgeon calls for the incision, daddy’s beside me, holding my hand. It feels like they are wrestling an alligator from my abdomen. There is so much pressure, I feel like I can’t breathe. And then you are here. The time is 10:06pm.

The sweet sound of your lungs filled with air comforts me. We did it. We survived. You survived. All of the worry and fear fades away. Love overflows the room as you are placed in my arms. Happy birthday, Beckett!

I cherish your birth story and celebrate whole-heartedly every year that follows it. You are the culmination of a love that started before your story began, flesh and blood, of your daddy and mine. You are my proudest achievement. You are my most-precious gift.

Always and forever,

Diane Rose
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