She's a perfect, tiny human.
Her little face shows all the beauty of her mother and father.
Her tiny little feet and hands are breath-taking.
She's so small, she's wiggled out of two diapers today. Each time, they were found around her knees. The little mittens on her long nailed hands fly off every few minutes she's awake. She's going to be a pistol.
Elena came so quickly, the midwife had only just set her purse down in the nurse's station before she appeared. I keep giggling at the memory of the nurse trying to hold her head in for just a few more moments so the midwife could sit down.
She was born less than 7 hours after Becka awoke to contractions.
She was born with such relative ease (less than 20 minutes of pushing) and the wonder in Becka and Noeli's faces was so beautiful... it was like falling into an icy well the moment the nurse snatched her from Becka's stomach, yelling for help.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't breathing.
It was only a minute... the passage of only moments...
But it's amazing the memories that can fit into such a few moments.
The moment we were told that week-old Becka's heart wasn't functioning like it should... The 7 minutes between pulling Daniel from the bath water and his first rattling breath... the moments when pertussis stole 6-week-old John's breath, turning him blue.
It's amazing too, the intensity of prayer that can occur in only moments.
It was only a minute before the resuscitating bag gave Elena that first breath she needed to take over on her own.
My brave, strong Becka broke down and we cried together to the joyous sound of an intensely irritated, wailing newborn. Poor Noeli stood between the two ladies in his life, not knowing who to comfort first.
Then the nurses swaddled his daughter and laid her in his arms. He looked in her little eyes then looked up to meet Becka's gaze.
In that moment, we witnessed a family born.