Our day began yesterday, at 11:53 PM, when your mother awoke me from about ten minutes of sleep to inform me that her water had broken. In fact, it was still breaking as I awoke. I could hear the splashing from the bed. Despite the hours of birthing class and hundreds of pages that Mommy and I had read on pregnancy, we stared at each another and asked, “What do we do?”
For me, I doubted that your mother was experiencing contractions, since the brutal, possibly hedonist midwife earlier that day had told me that there was “no mistaking contractions” and that we would not be having a baby this weekend.
Your mom said that she thought it might be contractions.
Based upon everything I had been told, I assumed that she was experiencing cramps and that we shouldn’t go to the hospital yet. I recommended that she return to bed.
This did not go over well.
Your mother, in a bit of a panic, insisted that we leave immediately and scoffing at my suggestion to call the doctor first or to bring Kaleigh to the Casper’s house before heading off.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she was on the phone with the doctor.
“Get to the hospital immediately.”
Oh well. Mommy and Daddy aren’t always perfect.
After loading up the car and waiting for Jane to arrive to pick up Kaleigh, we were off, leaving the house at 12:30.
Seven minutes later, we arrived at the hospital, and I dropped Mommy off in order to park the car. “Don’t wait for me,” I said. “Just go up.”
“There’ll be no waiting for you,” she said as she exited the car. I admit that I secretly hoped that by the time I made it up to the sixth floor, you would be well on your way out.
No such luck.
Mommy was filling out paperwork with a nurse when I arrived in the delivery center, and it was at this time that I finally understood the degree of Mommy’s pain. As she was being asked questions, her responses were becoming less and less coherent. It turns out that her contractions were coming every three to four minutes, which explained the pain.
After being led to our room, we met Cassie, the first of two nurses who we would come to adore throughout the process. Cassie was with us throughout the evening, making us comfortable and helping us try to catch a few hours of sleep. After arriving, we learned that Mommy was almost entirely effaced but not dilated at all. We were shocked. On the way over, we took wagers on how dilated she would be. She said four centimeters would make her happy, and I was hoping for seven.
Zero was a disappointment.
Thankfully, our humanitarian doctor, who doesn’t believe that women should ever suffer through childbirth, offered to administer the epidural immediately, even though birthing class instructors informed us that it would not be administered under any circumstances before four centimeters. This was the first of what we discovered to be several false statements made by birthing class instructors, including their assertion that the hospital had no Internet, which I am using at this moment.
I left the room for the epidural (though Cassie said I could stay if I wanted, which my birthing instructor also said would never happen), and even though Mommy hasn’t said much about the procedure, it seemed to go well. The anesthesiologist was a bit of a jerk, but otherwise, the needle, the meds, and all the horrifying aspects of this procedure went off without a hitch. Mommy was terrified during this process, possibly more than any other time in her life, but she held up well.
With the epidural on board, her pain vanished, the lights were turned off, and Mommy and I managed to sleep for a couple fitful hours.
Mommy actually slept very well.
The chair that I attempted to sleep in was a device that harkened back to the Spanish Inquisition, so I managed only a cursory amount of sleep. Later, I found the wisdom to open the chair into a bed and sleep soundly for an hour or two. We slept from about 2:00 to 4:00, when Cassie checked Mommy again and found her four centimeters dilated. Lights went out again until 6:00, when Cassie checked and found Mommy fully dilated.
Hooray. I expected a baby before breakfast and I said as much.
Mommy began pushing at 6:30, but in the midst of a shift change, in which Cassie left us and Catherine took over, it was decided to allow you to “drop some more on your own” before resuming to push.
When Catherine first appeared, we didn’t know who she was, but being the woman she is, your mother immediately requested her name and rank, and we learned that Cassie was leaving us. Cassie was wonderful; an easy going, friendly, and warm woman with three young kids of her own who was perfect for helping us to rest and relax during the night.
Catherine was warm and friendly as well, but she was also a bit of a drill sergeant, specific and demanding in her orders, and it was just what your Mommy needed when she began pushing again around 8:00. This was the hardest time for your mother. She pushed consistently from 8:00 until 11:30, but because of the placement of your mother’s pubic bone and the angle of your head, you simply would not come out. The vacuum was attempted briefly, but at last, it was determined that a C-section would need to be done.
A few interesting notes from the pushing:
Several times, Catherine encouraged Mommy to find some anger with which to help push. “Get mad,” she would say. “Find something to be angry about.” Your mother continually asserted that she had nothing in her life with which to be angry. Finally, Catherine acknowledged that she was dealing with the sweetest person on the planet.
Your mother never yelled at me and never uttered a single word of profanity during the entire process.
Throughout the pushing, I was receiving and sending texts to your grandmother, Justine, and Cindy, who were all dying to find out what was going on. I also managed to update my Facebook and Twitter accounts throughout the morning and set up a system by which I could work on my novel between contractions. I would slide across the room on an office chair, first to Mommy when the machine declared that it was time to push, and then back to my work when there was a lull in the action.
I was actually quite productive.
When the vacuum was brought into play, the room filled with about eight doctors and nurses. At one point, a nurse asked me to hold your mom’s leg, which I had been doing all morning. Catherine said, “Not him. He doesn’t get off of that stool.” Though I didn’t feel queasy or weak in the knees, she saw something in me that indicated otherwise. Later I was sent out of the room to “Drink some juice.”
When the decision was made to deliver you via C-section, things got fast and furious, and I left your mom for the first time today in order to don a pair of scrubs while she was rolled into the operating room and prepped. It was at this time that I was forced to remove my Superman tee-shirt, which had been specifically chosen for the event. I wanted your first glimpses of me to be reminiscent of the man of steel.
The best laid plans of mice and men.
When I entered the OR, the doctors were already working on your mother, and I inadvertently caught a view of her before I was ushered to a stool behind the screen and told not to move.
I almost didn’t make it. Catherine grabbed me by the shoulders, told me to put my head down, and move.
I had no idea what a cesarean section entailed, nor do I ever want to see it again.
Sitting beside your mom’s head and three anesthesiologists who were busy at work injecting Mommy with more medicine than I could have ever imagined, I listened and waited with her. It took about fifteen minutes before I heard your first cries and one of the doctors leaned over the screen and said, “Here it comes. Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Yes,” we said in unison.
“It looks like… a girl,” he said, and immediately thereafter, the docs behind the screen began asserting the same. We began crying while we listened to your cry and caught our first glimpses of you as a nurse was preparing to weigh you. A couple minutes later, after managing a 9/9 on your apgar scores (I was hoping for perfect tens), you were handed to me, the first time I have ever held an infant without the protection of a sofa and many cushions.
You were beautiful.
Because of the position that Mommy was still in, she wasn’t able to see you well until Catherine finally took you from my nervous arms, flipped you upside down like a football, and held your face to hers.
I’ll never forget this moment.
Your mom was forced to remain on the table, arms outstretched and pinned, for more than an hour while the doctors stitched her up. She began to go a little stir crazy for a while, unable to move and shivering uncontrollably, and we tried to calm her by massaging her shoulders and rubbing her arms.
That’s the thing about a c-section: Getting the baby out is a piece of cake. Putting the woman back together is akin to Humpty Dumpty and all the King’s men. No one tells you that it’s going to take more than an hour, and I was hungry. I just wanted to leave and eat a chicken sandwich.
Eventually the surgery ended, and you were finally handed to Mommy. The two of you were rolled into the recovery room while I had the pleasure of telling your grandparents, Aunty Emily, and soon-to-be Uncle Michael all about you. There were many tears. Your grandfather laughed long and loud. Your grandmother cried, and in keeping with her character, Emily was indignant over her inability to see you and Mommy immediately.
She’s one demanding babe.
I eventually got my chicken sandwich, but not before briefly fainting on my walk down to Friendly’s restaurant on the first floor. I hadn’t eaten in quite a while, and I hadn’t slept much at all, so the combination of the two, plus the stress of the morning, sent me toppling over. Nurses rushed over to see what had happened, and as they helped me up, I cried, “I’m just so hungry. I just want to sit and eat something.”
It was a delicious chicken sandwich. One of the best of my life.
It’s almost 9:00 PM, and we are now sitting in our room, resting and chatting. You are asleep and have been for the past few hours. I must leave soon in order to go home so that I can teach tomorrow and use my time off when you and your mom are at home. My students will be thrilled to see your photos and hear all about you.
For your mother, the almost four hours of pushing were her greatest challenge of the day.
For me, the greatest challenge will be leaving this room tonight and not taking you with me. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms for the next week.
We love you so much, little one. Welcome to the world.
