Breathe

I remember when we met Olivia like it was yesterday.  She greeted us five weeks early, which took us careful planners by complete surprise.  Talk about a lesson in showing you just how unpredictable parenting truly is!  Awaiting her birth, I cracked jokes, held Daniel's hand, and existed as just part of the Daniel and Emily "expecting" duo.  Her exodus was being closely monitored by eleven hospital staff, ranging from doctors to medical students to nurses to NICU personnel; there was uncertainty as to what the little premature life emerging into the world that evening would need, so every measure was in place.  After about fifteen minutes of "pushing," she made her entrance, and was quickly whisked to the side to be wiped and suctioned and whatever else they do to cleanse the sweet new little person who has just entered  the room.  Once whomever was doing that was done, I was given a few moments with her before they attached her to a machine on wheels that would monitor her breathing.  I remember holding her, and for the first time in my life, feeling insanely protective.  Responsible.  A little scared, because up until that point, I had had all the answers to everything... and at that moment, I knew I so didn't.  As I bent down and kissed this soft, tiny, five pounds, three ounces being, I whispered "breathe" to her.  Seconds later, a woman took her out of my arms and wheeled her away to another room.

She did well over the course of the next two hours.  Daniel was able to stay with her, which was a comfort to me.  After that ordeal, the three of us were finally reunited, and we headed off to our private "suite" where we were able to begin interacting as a family.  However, in spite of the fact that she was released to come and stay in our room with us, she was still being closely monitored.  The word "breathe" remained a focus for us, as I spent the entire first night of her life watching the reading on the machine to make sure the number on it didn't fall below 90.  Once morning came, I was thrilled that the night had passed and she had no complications.  She had breathed.

The day we left the hospital, in order to be released, O had to go "sit" in her car seat for an hour and a half, once again hooked up to machines to monitor her breathing.  I sat in a chair beside her, praying she would breathe well enough for us to go home.  She did.

Now, two years later, I still find myself saying "breathe" to her, but for different reasons.  She's got the whole subconscious thing of having to breathe to sustain life down pat (LOL), but I'll remind her to breathe when she gets upset, or when she gets hurt and is justifiably crying because she has a "boo boo," or when we are practicing our swimming in the bath tub and attempting at sticking our face into the water.

As I came to realize all of these "breathe" moments this evening, it donned on me that this word may be a common thread for us in many important moments during her life.  Maybe before she goes to school, or takes the stage for the first or even the hundredth time, or the first time she takes riding lessons, or when she's doing homework and becomes irritated at point of difficulty (hopefully with her mama/daddy's brains, those shouldn't be too many!).  Maybe before tests, or when she's trying to make new friends, or when she peddles a bike.  Maybe when she's angry that mama won't let her have another cookie.

And then... then I got to thinking of how I may continue to utter the word to her years down the road.  Acquiring her driver's license!  Her first crush.  Her first broken heart.  Any sub sequential crushes and/or broken hearts.  The SAT.  Opening her college acceptance letters.  Applying for financial aid.

I even went beyond that, envisioning the big, adult "days" like when she's graduating college (magna cum laude?), getting married (and us paying for it... in that case, I may have to be telling Daniel to breathe), having her own first child.  And I see myself there, reminding her to breathe.

I know that with each time I do so, I will be taken back to that first day... the day I became a mommy, and didn't necessarily have all the answers, but had one good idea to help us out along the way: breathe.