It was just another middle of the night trip to the bathroom. My sleepy waddle turned into a panicked stagger when I felt it running down my leg. Blood everywhere. No, it was too early; this wasn’t supposed to be happening yet. This wasn’t in the plan. I called out to my husband, frantically telling him it was time to go.

The drive to the hospital seemed like forever. Breathing through the contractions, I held my husband’s hand. I kept waiting for a kick, a jab, anything that would tell me that my little boy was OK. In those moments, those tense moments, I prayed the only prayer I knew how to pray: one of surrender. “Lord, please keep him safe. My son is Yours, he isn’t mine to begin with. I give him back to You. I need your peace.”

We walked into the hospital as fast as we could, I could feel myself bleeding more and more. I had lost so much blood. Was my baby OK? Were we going to make it in time? Were we too late? Lord, I have to continue to trust You.

As we were admitted into triage, only one thing was clear, we were going to have our baby tonight. I changed out of my sweats and slipped into a hospital gown, my contractions growing stronger. The nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitors.

And then I heard it…

(From the Dad)

It was just another night that we went to bed way too late watching a movie that really wasn’t that interesting. Our heads hit the pillow around midnight. I was enjoying a nice REM sleep when all of a sudden Lauren is shouting at me telling me it’s time to go! Because I am a guy and suffer from an acute case of procrastination, I hadn’t packed a single article of clothing for a 4-5 day stay at the labor and delivery unit. I took a look at the toilet to see how much blood Lauren was so frantic about and immediately regretted my decision! I stuffed my four shirts, my two pairs of jeans and under garments into a bag I could no longer zip and headed to the garage. 

The drive to the hospital was anticlimactic. Every guy dreams of driving his wife to the hospital while she is in labor. It’s like something out of a movie. You are swerving in and out of traffic, going 100 mph, and when a cop does try to pull you over, you wave your arm out of the window telling him to follow you to the hospital. Well….I totally wussed out. I drove 5-10 mph over the speed limit like I always do and I was way more concerned about getting there safely and how my wife was feeling even though she was telling me to go faster. Fail.

As we were admitted into triage, things started to get serious for me. I had been running on adrenaline, but now that we were sitting and waiting, thoughts of doubt and fear were starting to creep in. Was my boy OK? Is my wife going to be OK?

And then I heard it…

Our son’s perfect heartbeat.

Instant peace. Peace that surpasses all understanding. Peace that calmed this mama’s heart.

Sitting in the wheelchair, they brought me into the cold operating room; I just wish that they would have let him come in with me. They sat me on the bed, my epidural placed. They laid me on the bed and draped my belly. Then I saw him, the love of my life, walk in and they began to cut.

And then I heard it…

Instant Peace is the perfect phrase that describes how I felt when the beats per minute of our son’s little heart illuminated on the computer monitor. 

Sitting in the triage room, while your wife preps for surgery is a helpless feeling. She is having to go through all of the poking and prodding while you just sit in a room, by yourself, thinking. After a while, they tell you that the doctors are ready to start and you are led into the room where you finally get to see the love of your life give birth to a love of your life. Somewhere in the midst of all this drama, they had started cutting.

And then I heard it.

Our son’s first cries.

I saw my husband’s smile through his eyes behind his surgical mask. As I laid there strapped to that table, all I wanted to do was go over to the warmer and scoop up my baby boy. Instead, I told my husband to go over to his son. And what I watched next while I peered behind the drape was one of the most precious moments of my life; I watched my husband meet our son. I watched him hold his little hand and comfort him as he cried.

And then I saw it…

I saw my wife’s face light up as we heard our son use his lungs and voice for the first time. I felt torn because I wanted to hug her and go over to the warming table to meet our son at the same time. She eased that burden by giving me permission to go over to him and check him out. I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt as if my cheeks were muffin toppin’ over my mask! I loved being able to hold him and show him to her as the doctors stitched her up.

And then I felt it…

It was love at first sight. And it was perfect.

So while nothing that night went according to plan, while most of the moments of our son’s birth were scary and unpredictable… we wouldn’t change one moment of our c-section experience for anything. Because when you witness love so instant and so pure, you witness life’s greatest miracle. And that is why we are so thankful for the night of love at first sight.

You May Also Like:  My C-Section Made Me Love My Husband More

And:  Dear C-Section Scar:  It’s Complicated

The Night of Love at First Sight - Our C-Section Story

Lauren Eberspacher

I'm Lauren and I'm a work-in-progress farmer's wife, coffee addict, follower of Jesus and a recovering perfectionist. When I don't have my three kids attached at my hip, you can find me bringing meals into the fields, dancing in my kitchen, making our house a home, and chatting over a piece of pie with my girl friends. I'm doing my best to live my life intentionally seeking all that God has for me and my family. Follow me at: From Blacktop to Dirt Road on Facebook laurenspach on Instagram