The greatest moment of my life happened on November 28, 2009 at exactly 5:54am. It happened in a large room, which I don’t remember filled with people I will never forget. My husband sat by my side holding my hand, as we welcomed the most important person we would ever meet. Our son Gabriel came into the world crying as our amazing doctor gently placed him upon my chest. At that precise moment the world became small and still in a large and powerful way. Our new baby had been born safely into the world and the meaning and focus of my life would forever be changed.
I don’t remember the exact details of my delivery up until that point. What I mostly remember are my feelings and impressions of what was happening around me. I knew that our wonderful nurse was always present in the room and somehow always seemed to know exactly what I needed. I remember the entrance of our doctor into the delivery room and the profoundly calming effect he seemed to have on me. I remember the way the resident doctor looked after my husband and made sure that he was also being supported. The obvious talent and soothing confidence of our care providers allowed my husband and me to quietly focus on each other and our unborn baby.
The labour process seemed to reduce the world to its purest essence. I could see that people were all around me but I could not always tell what they were doing; only what their actions made me feel. I found great comfort in seeing the warm glowing lights and soothing humming of the hospital equipment in front of me and was surprised to see the room come to life as each machine was turned on ready to serve its intended purpose. The greatest moment of my life was imminent. I could relax, I was safe, and my baby was safe. If anything went wrong, it would somehow be made right. I knew that the hospital staff were ready and would know exactly what to do. My only job was to breathe and remain as relaxed as I possibly could. At some point of the delivery our nurse offered me apple juice with ice and the taste of the apple juice became synonymous for me with the joy and anticipation of our new baby. To this day, you will never find our home without apple juice. Each sip tastes and feels like happiness to me, liquid joy.
Time continued to melt away with each passing contraction. The peaceful room suddenly became filled with excitement. Our nurse continued to encourage and praise me with each and every contraction. Our doctor spoke softly to my husband and explained to him what was happening. The moment had arrived. The past nine months of worrying about our unborn baby would be replaced with unlimited years of worrying for our growing child. I welcomed it. I was ready. It seemed so clear to me that my entire life had been leading up to this moment. The actual birth of our son only took seconds to happen, but the ripple effect of his presence in this world would forever be celebrated. Our maternity team had delivered our baby safely to us in an atmosphere of care, gentleness and kindness. During my labour, I fell in love with each and every one of them.
The next twenty-four hours were filled with learning, positive stress and tremendous joy. As my husband and I bonded with our new baby, we cried, we laughed but most of all we discovered. The hospital room became our temporary home and sanctuary and we felt good there. The nurses were always available to us and welcomed all of our questions. We were fortunate to have a nurse who also specialized in breastfeeding. She patiently and lovingly taught me how to nourish my new baby and for this gift I will forever be grateful to her.
We became proficient with the hospital call button and actually paged the nurse when our son needed his first diaper change to ask her, “What do we do?” She simply laughed and walked us through each step. We were terrified of that diaper. My husband and I had changed hundreds of diapers in our lifetime, but our son’s diaper was different. Its meaning took on many forms as it made our son’s life real to us. We were responsible for him and his care from now on and forever. Would we be able to meet all of his needs? Would we know what to do? Would that be enough? We resolved ourselves to always do everything in our power to make Gabriel’s life wondrous in meaning, bountiful in love and limitless in possibilities.
As the time for us came to leave the hospital, my husband and I grew increasingly anxious. We briefly wondered if they would allow us to stay indefinitely. We really appreciated the security and safety of the hospital and its caring staff. Just as we were getting our son ready for his car seat, our fabulous doctor came by to wish us farewell. The picture we were able to capture of him and Gabriel barely over a day old was a treasure we would forever hold in our hearts. Our doctor was the very first person our son had ever seen. He was the very first person to ever touch him with gentle care. We were blessed. We had it all. It was time to be brave and take our son to his new home and show him the world.
Although I will probably never remember the exact details of what happened that early morning on November 28th, I would forever know in my heart that my husband, my son and I experienced a moment of perfection. The birth of our son had taught me that although some of the greatest moments in life occur spontaneously, that the majority of them are deliberate and take years to make possible. The Peace Arch Hospital staff made the greatest moment of my life seem effortless and flawless through their combined decades of experience and knowledge and passion for their work.
As we drove away from Peace Arch hospital we never looked back because we knew that it would always be there for us. At that very moment I saw with clear vision that the hospital was so much more than a building made up of bricks and mortar. It contained a secret and invisible foundation made up of thousands of magical moments, of lives saved, of people cared for, of deliberate acts of kindness in care, and of greatest moments realized. The birth of our son, my greatest moment, would forever be part of this unseen, but ever present, growing, living and indestructible foundation.
–Jasmine Paré-Prasad