Lifting You Up, Tiny Human.

As we came crashing into the operating room, sterilized hands held steadily in the air in front of us, he said to me, “Do exactly as I do.”

So I did.

Stepping into my gown, hands in gloves, spinning carefully to let the attendant tie it up, stepping up to the operating table, careful not to touch anything else – do not break sterility. I stood beside him as he delicately instructed a younger resident, her steady hand carefully working through layer after layer, deeper and deeper.

In a flash of a moment, she said something aloud, swiftly sliced open the deepest layer, and the table became a whir of hands. Entire hands disappeared inside as fluid and blood rushed out, orders being given, and I clenched my retracted tighter.

Then she emerged.

In a room full of six people, now there were seven.

Time slowed enough for me to respond instinctively as the scissors were handed to me, and I cut my first umbilical cord. Tiny yet strong cries rose into the air: a healthy baby girl born to two blessed parents.

My first time scrubbing into a surgery. My first time cauterizing vessels, retracting skin, cutting an umbilical cord. To say I feel fortunate to be a part of another human’s entry into this world is an understatement.

“It’s not the days in your life, but the life in your days that counts.”



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