I always found the analogy of the stork, in child delivery, to be amusing. Perhaps it was my childhood enjoyment of cartoons like this one.
But, using that analogy, at about 9:00 PM on Saturday, February 11, Catholic Charities gave us both good news and bad news:
Good news: Abigail was born at about 11AM.
Bad news: The stork crash-landed.
In plain terms, Abigail was in “respiratory distress” and was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Kentucky Children’s Hospital, which is part of University of Kentucky.
As an asthmatic, I know what “respiratory distress” is. I felt like I spent half my childhood in ER, with asthma issues. It is what got me bounced from Army ROTC during my college days. I had to go to great lengths to prove it was a non-issue during my attempt to enlist in the Army post-9/11. (Ultimately, my back problem did me in.) Even today, I use an inhaler prior to my open-water swims.
“Respiratory distress” sucks, but it’s far from the end of the world.
It did not bother me a bit that she was in the NICU; a friend of ours from our church was a nurse in the NICU there. The NICU folks at UK are very solid. I was barely fazed by the news.
At this point, we were elated: our baby was born.
But because this was a closed adoption, we still were not allowed to see her for at least 48 hours. We had to wait for the birth mother to be discharged.
We would spend all day Sunday getting the house ready for our departure. On Monday, my plan was simple: get a workout in the morning, get some last-minute things situated at the office, then pick up MrsLarijani and head to the hospital.
Surely to goodness, by that time, the birth mother will be gone and we will be allowed to see her!