Beep… Beep… Beep.. Beep..Beep. Beep. The pounding of the heart rate monitor steadily grows. My father instinctively wakes up. He stares at the monitor in complete shock. He screams to the doctors across the hall.

“GET MY WIFE A DOCTOR THIS INSTANT!” he shrieks. Doctors and nurses come pouring in. My mother startles awake. She’s rushed into the operating room immediately. Her eyes are filled with fear. What’s going on? What’s happening to my baby? Is it going to die? Am I going to die? Are WE going to die…?

The doctors explain to my mother that my heart rate had increased to approximately 250 beats per minute. My family was in the waiting room. Waiting for a healthy, young child. I had been overdue for about a month. I was due on Thanksgiving, and it was 3:10 am on Christmas Eve. The holidays had arrived, and all my family experienced was worry. The doctors explained to my mother that I was in so much stress, I needed to come out. Now. It was either a c section without pain medication, or I would pass on before I was even born. My mom chose the painful way.

I was born at around 3:15 am on December 24th, 1991. I was 9.4 pounds, baby blue eyes, and peach fuzz topped on my head. When I was born, I opened my eyes and bent the nurse’s thumb. She looked at me in awe. I was a new life, brought into the world. Barely. My grandmother held me for the first time.

“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen” she said. “Name her Noelle. It’s strong, elegant, and represents the holiday. Christmas means new birth and joy. This is exactly what she brought us. “

And so my name was decided. Noelle.