Chapter 8 - First Touch of Clara
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On Thursday afternoon, the doctor finally gave me permission to hold Clara skin-to-skin for the very first time without her monitors attached.
Nurse Lorraine brought Clara into a quiet private room in the NICU. My heart hammered against my ribs as Lorraine carefully placed the tiny four-pound bundle onto my uninjured left shoulder.
Clara was so light she felt like a feather. She wore a tiny pink onesie that swallowed her little body.
The moment her warm cheek rested against my skin, she let out a tiny, soft sigh. Her miniature fingers reached out and curled tightly around my index finger.
I burst into tears—not tears of pain or grief, but tears of pure, overwhelming love.
“Hi, sweet girl,” I whispered, burying my face gently into her soft hair. “I’m your mama. You’re safe now. I promise you, nobody is ever going to hurt us again.”
Nurse Lorraine stood nearby, wiping a tear from her own eye. “She knows your voice, Elena. Her heart rate stabilized the second you picked her up.”
“She fought so hard,” I said, kissing Clara’s forehead.
“She got that from you,” Lorraine smiled. “You survived something terrible, Elena. But look at what you brought through the fire.”
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I held my daughter close for two hours, watching her breathe peacefully.
Holding Clara gave me a new kind of strength. I wasn’t just a victim defending herself anymore. I was a mother protecting her child. Julian and Evelyn thought they had broken me in that kitchen, but they had only awakened the lioness inside me.
