Doodle of Audrey Sleeping
Doodle of Audrey Sleeping 1997 colored pencil and glitter on paper 10x10" collection of the artist
Our daughter Audrey was born Christmas Day, in the evening, of 1996. Audrey would become my model for the next couple years as I took care of and watched her while Zoe went on to finish her medical training. Here, I began to wonder at the amazing fact of life in the middle of a cold, empty, dark universe.
Zoe wanted to do a dermatopathology rotation after residency, so she got a fellowship at Hahnemann Hospital in Philadelphia. We moved there in June of 1996, with Zoe already a couple months pregnant. She would have to put on special breathing devices as she did pathology rotations to protect the baby. As she got more and more pregnant, I began to worry more about another mouth to feed. I can’t imagine how difficult that time must have been for Zoe. We hung in there, and as Christmas closed in we got ready for childbirth, taking classes and practicing. The morning of the 23rd Zoe started having contractions. She would continue to have them for 36 hours, but never dilate enough for a baby’s head to make it through. As Zoe continued to struggle and tire, and the baby’s signs began to show difficulty, the doctor decided to do an emergency C-section around 5:45 Christmas night. At 6:03 Audrey was born, but was terribly quiet. I was praying in fear and trembling, and the Russian anesthetist standing on my side of the curtain shouted that all the pediatric fellow needed to do was intubate the baby. The pediatric fellow freaked and went to call the ER, so the anesthetist left his post and intubated Audrey. After an eternity of silent seconds, with me begging God to PLEASE let everything be all right, we heard some tiny coughing and crying, and then wailing. Her air tubes had been full of meconium and she’d been unable to inhale, but the anesthetist had been able to get a tube through it all so she could breathe! She coughed and spluttered, then cried out at this cruel world that had interrupted her peaceful surroundings. She was tiny (5 lbs. 12 oz.) and long, like a spider monkey, I thought, as the nurses washed and wrapped her. After she was swaddled, on Christmas Day, I held her for the first time, and wondered to myself, "Now, why was I so worried? No matter what happens, I'm gonna be here for this little girl."
