Miles' Birth Story from Dad's perspective

Angela asked me to write down Miles' birth story from my perspective. So here it is.

Friday morning, 3am and Angela and I are both still awake.

The Dr. told us on Tuesday that if the baby didn't come on his own soon that we would have to schedule an induction or a C-section. We went to a Sweet tomato on Greenville and ate a delicious diabetic friendly feast, all the while praying for God to show us what we should do and more importantly what was best for Miles. After talking and praying we decided that a c-section would be the safest and best option for Miles. We scheduled it for Friday at noon.

So here we are Angela and I lying in bed wide awake at the end of our long journey. There is an feeling in the the air that we both feel of peaceful anticipation. What will he look like? Will he be ok? What about Angela? She's never had surgery before. Will she make it? What if something goes wrong? Will he be ok? What is life as a parent like? Will I be a good parent? How will our life change? I hope he likes me. I hope....

All of these thoughts constantly swirling about each of us. It's a wonder either of us got any sleep at all. Finally, it's time. We walk around the apartment making certain that we have everything that we need. It is a surreal feeling walking out to the car, no rush, no panic, just walking.

Traffic was light on the way there. We pulled into the parking lot and took only the things out that we need. We pose for pictures and text, tweet and facebook for the last time as a family of two.

In the hospital, Angela is a champ while getting prepped for everything. It's as if God has given her an extra measure of grace and peace, any worry or nervousness does not show. I on the other hand am visibly shaken. As much as I protest to the opposite the nurses are worried and make me eat and drink. Still I am on edge.

Finally, it is time for Angela to leave me. The Dr.'s wheel her through the hall way and my in-laws come in and wish he a quick good luck as she goes into the surgery room. I give my Mom a quick hug hello and then go back to the prep room to change into scrubs. I can barely get them on. Every fiber of my being is screaming out to God, "Bring her back to me! Take care of her! Don't Take her from me! Protect my newborn son!" My emotions are a tempest and I have to sit down.

After what feels like an eternity, the nurse comes into the room and tells me it's time. I follow her to the operating room, it is a familiar site to me. I have worked on equipment in the OR and have myself had surgery. This is different. I walk in and see Angela lying on a table. I mention to the nurses nervously that a sheet had been mentioned. They laugh and joke as they put it in place.

I take a seat next to Angela's head and grasp her hand. I whisper, "I love you" to her and she smiles and whispers it back. We spend nervous moments together as the doctors work, silently praying together.

Suddenly we hear the words, "Here we go!" and the doctors are going in to get him out.

We hear a cry and then the Dr. says, "I'm gonna need some help here." I see all of the nurses and doctors in the room leveraging themselves for a final pull and I see Angela's whole body jolt. Again we here Miles cry and the doctor say, "He's out!" I am in this moment overwhelmed with joy! I whisper to Angela, "You did it!" and both of us smile as we fight back tears of joy.

Within moments Miles is brought around the sheet and I am able to see him for the first time. I see him and am overwhelmed with the weight of responsibility and joy of what I am seeing. At the same time as I am trying to comprehend everything that has just transpired the doctor says these words, "Now there does appear to be an issue with his arm, but other than that he looks very healthy." I immediately look at his left arm.

I'm sure she said other things, but in that split second I am now trying to process the fact that I have a son, that I am a father, that my wife is indeed ok, and that my son is missing his left hand. I need air. I look down at Angela as the nurses ask if I want to take pictures and I barely get out, "I need a second, I feel faint." The nurses immediately take my camera and escort me out of the room onto a hospital bed in the hallway.

My heart is beating out of my chest and I feel like the room is spinning. All of the things that Miles will have to endure is laying on my chest like a ton of cement. "Just breathe," I tell myself. I pray a million little inaudible prayers. After what seems like forever, I get my wits about me and force myself off of the bed and onto my feet. I tell myself I have to be strong for my family.

I walk back into the room fighting back tears. I tell Angela.... it is the hardest sentence I have ever had to say. "He's missing his hand."

The nurses have finished checking him out and cleaning him off and bring the little bundle over to me and ask if I would like to hold him. I tell the them, "YES!"

In that moment (and many moments since) i held my son and with each breath that he took I felt my heart being stolen away. Total and complete joy like nothing else. Not something that can even be described with human words. As I showed him to Angela, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had granted me with a sweet and perfect gift. I knew my calling in life was to be his father and to demonstrate the love that our heavenly father has for us.

I gave him back to the nurses and was escorted out of the room while they finished taking care of Angela. I walked into the hall way and the first face that I saw was my mother. After telling everyone that everyone made it through surgery splendidly and that they are both healthy and good, I break the news to the family. "He only has one hand." I melted into my mother's embrace and cried. Not tears for myself, not tears of pity or regret, tears for the challenges that Miles would inevitably have to face. Tears for the cruelty of others who would hurt him with their words and looks. I sober myself and get back to the task on hand.

Angela is wheeled out of the delivery area and passed the nursery. The family is all there admiring him and the nurse brings him out so that Angela can hold him for the first time. I see my whole world laying together on a hospital bed. My heart is bursting with love.

The rest of the day is a blur of visitors and nurses and doctors. We find out that Miles has a birth defect called, amniotic band syndrome. I research these words throughout the day and find out as much as I can in short bursts. (EDIT: We have since learned that Miles was born with a rare birth defect known as symbrachydactyly not Amniotic band)

Once again, it is quiet. It is 2am and Angela and I are finally alone. We talk. We both share what God has been doing in our hearts throughout the day. We share encouraging text messages and emails. We both reveal to each other that we so happy that God chose us as Miles' parents. That He considered us worthy to have such an amazing son who will change others lives through his testimony. We share that each of our hearts is that he come to know our savior and that he knows that he is loved. We are so proud of the beautiful and perfect little man that God have given us and we look forward to all the adventures that we will go through together.