Eliana Cohen's mother relives her race against the clock
It’s bedtime — the sweetest time of day. I bundle Eliana into her pink and red doggie pajamas, kiss her on the forehead, and lay her down in her crib. The room is bathed in a warm cappuccino-colored glow, and as I sing Shema, her huge brown eyes lock onto mine. My heart swells as I gaze at my firstborn.
I turn on her mobile and tiptoe out of the room, knowing she’ll be asleep within minutes. That’s my Eliana: easy by day, even easier by night — a bundle of sweetness that just keeps getting sweeter.
I just came home from the pediatrician with 11-month-old Eliana. Again. Frankly, I’m not quite sure what to think. What started three months ago as a niggling concern is now an insistent drumbeat of “something isn’t right.”
Our daughter was born on July 20, 2017, seemingly perfect. After a 36-hour marathon labor followed by an emergency C-section, Ariel and I chose the name Eliana (G-d answered); it perfectly reflected our feelings of relief and gratitude toward Hashem.
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