Prizefighter

Sometime shortly before Beatrix was born, Bethany being prescient asked me, “So if there’s a problem during delivery, do you stay with me or go with the kid?”

“What is this? This is like a Cosmo test, right?”

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“I stay with you, of course!”, I answered.

It was the wrong answer.

So when it came to pass that, after a long arduous labor, many attempts to get Beatrix to come out, finally leading to a c-section, and a heart issue was detected within the first few seconds, Beatrix was whisked away by the team of nurses to the NICU and I followed.

She looked like a prizefighter. One that had gone the full 12 rounds and won only by split decision. Her face was puffy and swollen, one eye a bit blackened, her mouth in a resting scowl.

So there we were, just staring at each other, her first 6 hours on this planet were just Beatrix and me (and the occasional nurse to check in) while we waited for various tests to be run. Bethany was not allowed to be in the NICU. Due to the c-section she was not sterile. They wheeled her down from recovery briefly, a couple of hours in, and I was allowed 5 minutes to bring Beatrix out so her mother could hold her for just a bit before being wheeled back.

It sounds so cliche to say that I remember it as if it was yesterday, because it seems like it was. It’s burned into my memory because for that tenuous six hours, unsure really what the heart issue was and what it all meant, I knew I only had one thing to do — look at her. Look at every eyelash surrounding her blue eyes, every tiny wrinkle on her hands and feet, even her sort-of-black eye.

Beatrix was wide awake too. Blue eyes darting all around intensely interested. A look almost of shock but likely wonder as to how it could be that she went from the relative comfort and security of her mother’s womb to… This! Bright lights and beeps and voices and whirring machines. From safety to life. Her heart may not be perfect but she was going to use every bit of it to survive. She was a fighter.

That was 18 years ago today.

And here is Beatrix now. Still rolling with the punches life keeps throwing at her and her peers. Covid and the George Floyd Uprising and now the Siege of her City. Still surviving each and every round. Keeping her guard up but landing plenty of good ones herself.

And here her Mother and I are, on the cusp of sending her once again from safety to life. Just as uncertain as to what the future will hold. Only certain that no matter what she’ll take every hit and survive every round and in the end the judges will rule in her favor. She trained her whole life for this. She’s a fighter.