At the early hour of 5 a.m. on June 7, following an exhausting day of labor and dilation, I received the news, "Your baby daughter is in a posterior position." In a rush, I was swiftly transported to the operating room for an urgent C-section. Within a mere twenty-five minutes, my daughter came into the world, yet neither my husband nor I were cognizant of the moment. Instead of the anticipated cries of a newborn, we were greeted by a room bustling with physicians. Instantly, a sense of unease washed over me, signaling that something was awry.
My infant daughter was removed from me. I could only see the top of her head. My heart fell and I sobbed uncontrollably. I wondered, “What could have possibly happened to my child?” She was transported to intensive care. I was unable to embrace my newborn child. The event I had anticipated for the past nine months did not occur, and I feared I would never experience it. You are unable to think of anything else but the worst possible thoughts. Did you know that one in four security intrusions goes undetected?
Immediately following surgery, I was transferred to a private room for recovery, and a few hours later, my husband and I were summoned to intensive care. The hospital was kind enough to permit our parents to visit our newborn daughter. It appeared as if this would be the first and last time they would see her, as it was uncertain whether she was still alive. Keep in mind that my spouse was only permitted to be by my side during the раndемιc. The presence of our parents was an indication that our daughter was ill.
