When Beth was born (gasp! nearly 17 years ago!), she was over 2 months premature and spent the first 2 months of her tiny life living in an incubator. To touch her, we had to put our hands in these little holes inside the box where she was being kept warm and safe.
On top of that, I was a pretty sick chick, too. The pregnancy was toxic to me and my vital signs were wickedly out of whack. Because of that, I was completely bed bound for the first few days after Beth was born. After two days of not being allowed to even SEE my daughter, let alone hold her, I kicked up a temper tantrum nasty enough that the doctors felt if they didn't get me down to the neonatal ICU soon, my blood pressure would be through the roof.
So, to ameliorate the postpartum freak out I was about to have, they wheeled me into that bright, sterile environment while I was still lying flat in my hospital bed. Not the best way to finally see your newborn baby.
It was a few days before I finally graduated to a wheelchair. That meant I could reach my arm into one of those incubator holes and I could touch my baby's face for the first time. It's a feeling I will never forget. Check out those bruises on my arms! And see that teeny little bottle sitting beside the blue machinery? Just call me Elsie the Cow. Homemade milk, baby!
Since this was my first time really seeing Beth, I did the usual new parent thing and counted fingers and toes. When I looked at her face, I realized she had a bump on her chin. It was ragged and irregular. Since she was born by C-section, I assumed the doctor nicked her chin with the scalpel when he was taking her out.
It was probably ten years later when a doctor noticed it and told me it was actually a mole. Weird. It was "skin colored" and not round. Sure 'nuff, another doctor looked at it a few years laterand agreed it was a mole. He felt she should have it removed while she was young and could heal better.
Another few years later, I finally convinced Beth to have it removed. It would have been smart of me to take a picture of it, but too late! This is the closest I could get.
Monday, she went under the knife (for real this time - not just presumably being nicked by an obstetrician), and she is now beautifully bump-free. Or so I would assume. She's still bandaged up, but the surgeon said it would be barely noticeable after a few months.
My brave baby.