This is Your Life at the hospital

Miriam had to have a suspicious mole on her leg removed at the hospital this morning. For such a minor procedure, they sure did roll out the red carpet. Miriam had her own pre-op room, a gown and cap, a rolly bed, and discharge instructions. Over the course of the morning, we were in and out of several departments at the hospital. It was the same hospital where Sterling was born, so for me, it was almost like an episode of This is Your Life.

We walked through the same front door I came through when I was in labor on September 27th last year.

Miriam's pre-op room was in the same corridor as the recovery rooms. It looked the same as the one I was in for 36 hours after giving birth, and then we got to walk by the very one on our way upstairs to the surgery ward.

That walk retraced the path (albeit in the reverse direction) that I had taken in a wheelchair in the early morning hours of September 28th, holding brand-new baby Sterling in my arms.

We took the same elevator up that I had taken down almost a year ago, then we passed by Labor & Delivery.

As I waited for Miriam's procedure to finish, I saw a nurse who had been assigned to me in the recovery room. We chatted for a few minutes.

Finally, on our way out of the surgery area, we ran into the very doctor who delivered Sterling! In the throes of labor, she and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I was genuinely happy to see her again this morning. We embraced, and then she surprised me by saying that she's always telling her Emirati patients about the American woman who birthed like a boss (note: she did not use those words - it was something more like "how strong and quiet you were" during labor). It was one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me.

I have a thing for walks down memory lane, and this morning's retrospective was as lovely as it was unexpected. How many of us get to revisit the places and people of such a special day?

And Miriam's procedure went fine. It was a great morning.
Four-month-old Sterling and I at the hospital where he was born, in February.

German Summer vs. American Summer

Two tired days in Bucharest