The doctor cut the umbilical cord of my newborn daughter and blood splattered all over me. It was quite something, because I am quite certain it hit no one else in the room but me and we were all crammed together. I am pretty sure there is some significance of this anointing, yet another confirmation of the bond I share with this baby and her birth mama.

A new nurse came in and I don’t think she knew our situation. She asked “Dad” to cut the cord. I watched as the birth mom’s boyfriend seemed proud to participate. I didn’t pout. I didn’t need that moment. It would be my turn to take care of her soon enough. I watched my daughter get cleaned up and weigh in at 8pounds 3ounces. What a healthy girl! I couldn’t stop commenting on how beautiful she was. Lots of jet black wavy hair, dark eyes, round cheeks and luscious lips, on a perfectly formed body with 10 fingers and 10 toes. LOOONG toes. Oh my goodness, precious baby girl  parts. I admired her while the nurse handed her to the birth mom to cuddle and awe over.

Birth mama was so gentle, so loving, so sweet, so proud. She smiled as she cradled our girl, and then with the kindest smile and gentlest voice and purest intentions, she said to me, “The first person she’s gonna see is me and the second person she’s gonna see is you” and then she turned to our girl and told her, “you have two mommies.” What a love there!!! It may be difficult for you to imagine. I am trying to paint this image for you. There was no element of fear or jealousy. She delivered a message of pure joy and love. This lady who was giving me her daughter was putting her blessing on it. As if she hadn’t already done enough. She just kept giving. This kind of love makes me want to love better. Love so generously! Give so lavishly! 

And then it was my turn to hold my daughter for the first time. She was so alert and wide-eyed at this moment. She stretched out; stuck her tongue out (imagine that; I know right–if you have seen her many photos, that tongue is out), looked all around and settled into my arms. My moments seemed brief but intentionally so. I knew that this was her time. Mine would come later. It was my turn to share and give.

The birth mom seemed to look longingly at her boyfriend to hold the baby. There might have been some fleeting moments of fear (on my part) that she would change her mind if he had embraced fathering this child. I might even believe that if he had agreed to raise her as his own, she would have kept the baby right then and there. The emotion in the room was getting even more intense. And it was about to peak.

The boyfriend seemed to give in to the sweet pleas of the birth mom and he held our girl in his arms. Birth mama seemed relieved and then almost ready to move on. She was tired. They were tired. They talked about needing rest and food, so I took the opportunity to ask if my husband could come in. I should have sensed the hesitation and reluctant concession. I wanted Tony to meet his daughter and everything seemed to be going so well. There wasn’t a rule book to follow or a map of how the next 48 hours were supposed to happen. That would have been nice. Instead we were preparing for some tough moments of raw emotion.