My first month

         
Mama said we would write every day.  Or every other day.  Or at least once a week.  

Mama was wrong. 

Being at home after being born is so great but it’s tiring...there is so much to do.  We have to wake up, eat, cuddle, sleep, wake up again, change clothes every time I poop too much, sleep again, eat again, and cuddle for a long time.  The craziest days are the ones where I have to take a bath or Mama needs something at the grocery store.  Also it takes a lot of the day to make all the expressions I need to make.  I am exercising all my muscles so I can tell everyone all about me.   

              


                

Grandma Beth stayed for 10 days and we had so much fun snuggling and eating and getting to know each other.  We had a lot of late nights with no sleep and a lot of days that didn’t start until noon because Mama and I were so tired.  I learned how to eat  pretty quickly but it still hurt Mama for a couple of weeks.  She says she is so proud of me anyway.  I like to fall asleep while I eat, but Mama says I can’t.  She tickles my ribs and blows on my face and rubs my sternum to keep my eyes open.  While Grandma Beth was here she would bring Mama a drink every time that I was eating.  Grandma says drinking is VERY important, so Mama agrees.  

Grandma Beth also helped Mama get the nursery organized, and helped Mama go through all my clothes since we had newborn outfits ready and I was too big.  Mama says she is sad to already be packing away some of her favorite clothes.  While Mama slept or Daddy was at work, Grandma held me and sang to me and rocked me.  Grandma has a beautiful voice and it calms me right down. 

For about 2 weeks I slept in a “side car” right next to Mama’s bed.  She could reach over in the middle of the night and poke me if she was afraid I wasn’t breathing.  She could reach me easily when I needed to nurse.  But she also woke up all through the night any time I made a sound. So now she and Daddy moved me to their closet.  The closet is big enough to put me and their clothes and a recliner in, but it has a door so they don’t wake up every time I sigh.  That is a good thing.  Most of the time I sleep 2-3 hours at a time, and sometimes more.  Mama gets up with me most of the time, but if I don’t go back to sleep then Daddy snuggles with me.  Snuggles are my favorite.  

Gramps and Nana came to visit us for the week of Thanksgiving.  We made pies and sang together and played lots of games.  Nana taught Mama how to make a turkey and how to make stuffing and helped her cook all the dinner.  Mama loves her new kitchen and it finally smells like home after all the cooking she has done.  Gramps helped Daddy put together our pellet stove to keep our house nice and warm.  He also fixed our dishwasher and our bathroom fan and our deck lights.  The house has a lot of projects but we are getting them done one at a time.  My Daddy can do anything, he is so handy and strong.  My Mama is not very good at choices, which is why we have patches of paint on the walls that have been there for weeks.  

 

 

It’s hard to tell you everything about my first month of life, but here are a few important things: 

I love curling in my arms and legs and laying on Mama or Daddy’s chest.  Mama still calls me her “little tree frog” because I’m so flexible and squishy.  Sometimes if I get tired of being balled up, I wriggle and nuzzle until I fall into Daddy’s armpit or near the couch.  I love to be burrowed between two things.  

I love to be stretched out and arch my back when I’m awake.  I lay in people’s arms and crane my neck so I can see what is happening in the world.  I love to lift up my head, and I was strong enough the night I was born, but sometimes I can’t do it very long because it’s tiring.  I also like it when Daddy throws me over his shoulder “like a sack of potatoes”...It gives me practice holding my head up and I get to see the world from behind him.  

When I’m hungry I straighten out my whole body and throw back my head, and I have a raspy cry.  Mama says I sound like an alien, but I’m saying my first word, “mmmmmmaaah!!”  Roughly translated that is “mom why aren’t you feeding me?!?” Sometimes if Mama isn't ready yet, Daddy tries to trick me with his finger.  Fingers taste good, but not as good as milk.  

Mama loves to take pictures of me.  Her friend came to take pictures of all three of us, but then for several more days Mama was taking pictures of me and Daddy and guitars and wrinkles.  Daddy says it's OK.

I love to look at contrast...the line between the white ceiling and the dark wall in my bedroom, the lines on the couch, the slats in my crib.  

I love bath time.  The first time Mama and Daddy bathed me I pooped in the bath sling 5 seconds after they set me down. It was just so relaxing! They took me out, cleaned me up, put in new water, and set me back in, and then I peed immediately.  Too bad, they said, urine is sterile.  When I’m in my tub that Grandma Beth gave me I have lots of room to splash, and I love it! I have so many bath toys but they are still too big for me. After baths mom makes me put lotion on.  I don’t like goop but Mama says it’s good for my skin.  

I love my swing.  It’s huge and it plays music. It’s supposed to have a mobile but we haven’t attached it yet.  It doesn’t matter, I love looking at the handle where it attaches anyway.  

When I wake up in the morning or first thing after a nap, I stretch back my head, draw my fists to my cheeks and stick out my elbows and arch my back, and pout my lower lip. It makes Mama laugh every time, because she says I look like her.  When she has to wake me it takes so long for me to get fully awake and I make all sorts of funny faces...my arms hit me a lot as I wake up but I can’t seem to control them.  

I love it when Daddy sings.  Really I love any singing, but Daddy’s voice makes me so calm and happy.  We sing a lot of John Denver and hymns and Beethoven and Daddy’s current favorite band, Milk Carton Kids.  

I went on my first shopping trip last week because daddy needed new clothes.  Mama calls it "the mall" but it's a crazy place.  I helped Daddy hold all his shirts while he was picking out clothes.  Then I wet through two outfits and Daddy had to buy me another shirt.  We stayed for a long time.  I wasn't too impressed.

Mama says her favorite parts about me are the folds of skin around the back of my knees and the back of my head.  She also loves the downy hair on my arms and my legs.  Daddy loves my dark blue eyes and my forehead wrinkles.  Mama says it makes her laugh that I use my eyebrows for a thousand expressions even though I don’t have any brow hair at all.  I use them so much that my eyebrow muscles can be seen across the room.  I love it when people talk to me, and it quiets me right down if they look right into my eyes. 

Mama says I’m a good baby.  I like to sit and watch the ceiling, I don’t mind being alone in my crib, I’m a good eater, and unless my tummy hurts or I’m hungry I don’t cry too much.  

When I’m trying to do something or getting frustrated, I grunt a lot or talk in short mutters and scrunch my forehead and furrow my eyebrows. Mama says it sounds like I’m muttering under my breath.  She calls me “Mr Grumble Mumble” a lot.  

When I’m content, I like to keep my mouth open and taste the air with my tongue. Or sometimes I taste Mama’s shirt or Daddy’s neck.  It’s how I say “hi.”  

At my one month visit I weighed 11lbs 15 oz and was 24 inches long! Dr Greg says I'm growing like a weed.  Mama seemed to need to take a lot of pictures of me as a one month old.  Daddy says Mama is allowed.  

Your Birth Story-- Mamma's account

You are here.  

My dear son, we are so thankful that you have finally made your arrival. It felt like ages waiting for you...not just 9 long and exciting months of anticipation, but the 2 weeks and 1 day afterwards that you made us wait for you...wondering if you were younger than we had given you credit for or just incredibly stubborn. 

God knew what he was doing when he designed childbirth.  It’s a cathartic, traumatic, beautiful, messy, chaotic process...and it’s immediately followed by explosive joy, incredible peace, and a quick process of amnesia which makes the details fuzzy at best.  Even now, just 10 days later, I have trouble remembering some moments, even hours of your birth. And it’s important to me to remember.  So here I sit, on the first morning of quiet I’ve had since you came.  You are asleep, and will stay so for at least 30 minutes.  Daddy is back at work, Grandma flew back to Illinois yesterday.  This morning I can remember.  I must remember.  

The week I was due, I knew you probably weren’t coming.  I had done some of my own math which determined you very likely would be a week late.  So we kept walking, kept getting our new home ready, kept eating yummy foods and trying to get as much sleep as possible.  I finished up my charting and got my office organized at work so that they could survive while I was gone.  While we painted and moved and unpacked and cleaned and packed the old house, I felt you move in me.  You were so strong, I could tell by the way you kicked me.  You were particular, I could tell by the way you hated the hiccups and tried to escape from them.  You were stubborn, I could tell by the way you returned to the same positions, even if I tried to encourage you out of them and into something more comfortable for me.  Your dad and I talked to you, trying to teach you about us and wishing beyond anything else that we could know more about you.  We loved you then...but we knew our love would be pale in comparison to the future.  We were ready for you. 

The following week we began to get more desperate.  The doctor said things looked good, the fluids were still plentiful, your heartbeat was healthy, but you just didn’t make any progress.  My cervix was 1/2 cm dilated for over a week...then it changed to 1 cm and stayed put.  You hardly effaced me at all.  I was having contractions frequently, in fact, at night time I would often get contractions 8-12 minutes apart for several hours at a time.  During those times we would walk and walk and walk....around our new neighborhood, around the park in Kernville (close to the beautiful river and the yummy mexican food), and when it was late or I could only do a small trip, we walked mini-laps around our new home...porch, sidewalk, deck, driveway.  We did laps till we were dizzy and then we turned around.  We stopped to do squats and stretches and relaxation during contractions.  When our legs got tired we came inside and did bouncing on the labor ball and took lavender baths in the jetted tub.  I drank red raspberry leaf tea like it was my job...at least 4-6 cups a day.  Daddy did foot massages, back massages, relaxation techniques, perineal massages.  When that didn’t work, Daddy showed me a good time despite the logistical difficulties...and then tried some force with the business end of my cervix.  When that didn’t work he fed me all the spicy things we could find.  

I won’t lie, there were days it was very discouraging. I wanted to be around people rather than cooped up waiting, but everywhere I went people were shocked and all they wanted to talk about was my persistent pregnancy.  I wanted to eat but everything gave me heartburn.  I wanted to sleep but I was restless and had some back and leg pain.  I wanted to be spontaneous and fun but I was frustrated and easily reduced to tears.  What I really wanted, of course, was to finally have you in my arms.  Your dad did too...and it was tough on him to not be able to do anything but wait.  

On Tuesday, October 27th, we had our final doctor’s appointment.  We knew the doctor would want to induce.  The night before I had a good cry, realizing that I had failed to start labor naturally.  The tears were at first of frustration, but very quickly became tears of wonder and excitement and not a small amount of fear. I realized that soon, very soon, my body would be started on the path and I would finally meet you.  Your daddy and I snuggled and cried and talked about life as a family.  He held me while the sobs kept coming.  I was tired and nervous and so happy.  

That morning, after waiting in the canyon for an accident for almost an hour, we made it to our appointment.  The doctor said I was still only 1.5 cm dilated, and ordered an induction.  The only problem was that the hospitals were both full! We went on a waiting list and were directed to go about our day like normal.  Unfortunately, we were both off work and an hour from home.  No matter...we went to pick up the glider for your nursery (better late than never), bought a thank you note for the hospital staff, and went to eat lunch at our favorite barbecue place, Lucille’s.  Still no phone call. We went to Starbucks to sip coffee (daddy) and tea (me...one last day of sacrifice for you!) and to use their Wi-Fi (the new house had no internet yet).  I finally got to finish uploading my photos of Heather Costerisan’s wedding (shot in early September) and sent them to her with a sigh of relief.  We answered emails and browsed Facebook and called both of our parents.  Still no phone call.  We went for a walk in the mall and I bought a new phone, long overdue, so that I could take your picture when you came...my old phone was all out of storage and wouldn’t take more photos! 

Finally, at long last, about 8pm, we got the call that the hospital had a bed for us.  We were directed to go eat our “final meal” and then come to the hospital. I’ve never seen your dad smile so big...we were finally on our way! We went to Chipotle where I choked down about 1/3 of my favorite salad.  I was so nervous I could hardly swallow.  Nervous and tired and excited.  

We arrived at the hospital a little before nine, and with paperwork and waivers and instructions and history it was almost midnight before I was finally dosed with my first 1/2 pill of cytotec.  Such a tiny little white bitter pill was supposed to start the biggest day of my life.  I took the pill and went to sleep.  Of course I didn’t sleep much.  The contractions weren’t terribly painful but were pretty regular by about 1 hour later.  4 hours in the nurses checked me again...no change.  I was given another pill and left alone again.  Your dad slept off and on but was wakeful every time I rolled over.  On a side note, labor and delivery beds are not comfortable.  They can transform into a million different shapes but they are not made for sleeping...the mattress hardly beats out a camping cot.  Oh well.  

The next day, Wednesday, we kept taking Cytotec every 4 hours and getting checked again before every dose.  After 3 doses I had only progressed to about 2 cm and was only about 30% effaced.  This was getting long.  I started worrying a lot that you would be in too much distress, that my body would never relax enough to let you come.  Your dad was amazing.  He let me cry when I was sad and nervous, he rubbed my back and my feet when the contractions came, he watched movies with me when I needed distraction.  Mostly he kept reminding me of the most important thing...one way or another, you were coming.  My greatest comfort as those hours slipped by was hearing your heartbeat in the monitor, feeling your kicks (often trying to get away from the monitor), and even a round of hiccups which had been so common during my pregnancy.  By Wednesday evening, I was getting incredibly discouraged.  We had taken a break for some food and a shower, but even after some walking and squatting I was only at 2.5 cm dilation.  I took additional doses of Cytotec at 8pm, again at midnight still no change (and another sobbing fit took over...”what’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t my body want to have a baby??”), finally in the wee small hours of the morning I was found to be “close” to 3cm and over 50% effaced.  Now the real fun was finally ready to begin, after 28 hours on medication.  

They hooked me up to an IV around 4am on Thursday morning and started Pitocin at the lowest dose.  I tolerated the contractions well at first, though they were definitely more intense. The dose was increased every hour, and monitoring was important since we knew that you would be under more stress with the stronger contractions.  As my dose got higher, I became more and more uncomfortable when lying down.  But I was able to sit on a couch or on the side of the bed.  I walked during contractions and tried my best to relax.  Your dad and I did all the things we had been coached to do in our Bradley course.  He helped me do relaxation exercises, supported me so I could completely “let go” during contractions, and called out my breathing when I was getting too tense.  He was a great coach.  We made it about 6 hours on Pitocin when suddenly 3 nurses came in, walking a little too fast.  Your heart rate had dropped for about a minute into the 60’s and although it had recovered on its own, they were very concerned.  The nurse said she was having trouble with my monitors because of my movement, and that I had to lie down, still and flat for at least an hour in order to make sure you were OK.  I did...and immediately the contractions became severe, overwhelming.  One contraction lasted almost 5 minutes and was one of the most intense feelings I’ve ever had.  Every muscle in my body wanted to fight it and try as I might I couldn’t get my breathing or my tension to relax and even out.  We tried side lying, flat on my back, and partially propped on pillows.  Your dad massaged and talked and listened to me moan.  The pitocin dose was turned up again and I just couldn’t tolerate it anymore.  

I had so wanted a natural birth--so wanted to avoid drugs and pain medications. We had trained for it, talked about it, believed in it.  I knew my body was capable and I wanted my mind to be strong enough to tolerate this beautiful and painful process.  I knew your dad was my very best shot for keeping me calm and in control and relaxed and as free of pain as possible.  We knew that induction would make this more difficult, I just didn’t realize I would get this desperate this early.  The nurse said your heart rate was better but still wouldn’t let me get out of bed.  She checked me again and I was dilated more but only to a 3.5.  It was going to be a long day.  It was time for an epidural.  

In hind sight, I’m thankful I made this choice.  Even though I was feeling guilty as they inserted it, even though I was afraid about what the medication might do to you, even though the anesthesia made me shiver uncontrollably.  I was able to sleep for a few hours, which was such a relief after 2 almost sleepless nights.  Your dad slept too, and I think felt relieved that he wasn’t in charge of managing my agony for at least a short time.  Around 2 pm your Aunt Maddie came by, bringing dad some food and me some flowers.  It was strange and good to see someone “from the outside” since I felt like we had been living in the twilight zone.  

The next few hours are a blur.  I remember being checked a lot, I remember increases in Pitocin that I didn’t feel because of my epidural.  I remember watching TV with your dad.  But I don’t have a very clear picture of what happened next.  Our night nurse came on at 7pm and spent a lot of time watching your monitor and my contractions.  “We are going to have a baby tonight!” she said with a smile. I truly didn’t believe her, it felt like labor would go on forever.  She was calm, but obviously cautious, and as she continued to study your fetal monitor strip she became concerned.  Your heart rate was showing some gradual decline on the higher doses of Pitocin.  She checked me again and I was still only 5cm.  After the next dose increase, she had me go into a side lying position with a foot up on a table and put on oxygen.  Your heart rate seemed to appreciate that.  I was frightened because I realized that I could no longer feel you kicking thanks to my numb uterus.  I missed the connection with you much more than I would have imagined.  I clung to the sound of your little heart beating over and over again...as much as I hated that monitor for making me lie still, I was so thankful for the reassurance. 

The doctor came in around 8pm and I asked her if I would need a C-section.  She said she thought you would come on your own...and she said she felt your heart rate would tolerate a vaginal delivery.  It was a relief to hear and gave me some peace.  The nurse checked again and said my water had partially broken, which was very exciting news! I noticed something around that time...I could feel my vaginal area and cervix again.  Up to this point, I had been able to feel my legs and hips, but my abdominal area was numb to pain.  The advantage was that I was still able to move, but wasn’t concerned with the pain and tension of contractions.  It was wonderful.  Unfortunately I seemed to be getting a lot of feeling back in the place I was going to have the most pain very soon.  The doctor came back in sometime later and asked to break the rest of my water bag, she also put a new catheter in my uterus to measure contractions more accurately.  

About 20 minutes later, I began to have more severe pain. Daddy started coaching me again, because I was holding my breath and getting tense in my back and legs.  Suddenly the contractions began coming very close together, and I was feeling them more and more.  It was like a freight train, the intensity of it...like it was completely beyond my control and it was overtaking my whole body with power outside of myself.  I could feel your head moving down and it scared me because I realized how little I could control you or myself.  I started grunting, groaning, almost roaring, trying to relax, trying to control the pain.  I started telling your dad “he’s coming!” and suddenly felt like I might need to push.  The nurse came back in and checked me again, I was only at 8, but that was quick progress since my last check.  At this point, I remember the pain being nearly unbearable.  Try as I might I just couldn’t get relief, even between contractions.  We talked about turning off the Pitocin, but the nurse was concerned that might stop my progress all together, and it would take 30 minutes before my contractions slowed anyway.  In the end, we decided to re-dose my epidural to give me some better pain relief.  The anesthesiologist came quickly and dosed me and was gone almost before I knew it.  I felt immediate relief.  

The nurse rotated me back to my side around that same time because your heart rate changed again. On oxygen and on my side you seemed to be happy, but in other positions you were showing signs of stress.  At this time the nurse also noticed you had definite meconium staining, so she called the NICU and respiratory teams to be with us at your birth. 

It seems like instants later but I’m guessing it was closer to 1/2 hour when I finally heard the words I had been waiting on...”you are at a 10...you are ready to push!”  Of course, what this actually meant was we were ready to call the doctor, who was now at home.  The doctor instructed the nurse to go ahead and start pushing and to call her when you were crowning.  Unfortunately there were 2 other women who were delivering at this time, so the nurse called for back up and there was none. Also unfortunately it was at this point that I discovered I was totally numb from the upper chest down.  I had no use of my right arm or either leg.  I also had started to shiver again, my teeth were chattering and breathing was difficult.  My previous dose of epidural was perfect...no contraction pain but I could feel and at least clumsily move my legs and breathe well.  This time they had dosed me so high that I was completely paralyzed, and so were many of the muscles in my chest, which made breathing more labor intensive, especially from behind an oxygen mask where I already felt restricted.  Anesthesia was called again and they lowered the dose and recommended I sit up so that the medication did not spread further up my spine and impair any breathing/swallowing (!! what a scary thought!!).  It would take 30-45 minutes before I started getting feeling back, but no matter, it was time to push now! 

Your dad took one leg (dead weight and completely out of my control) and the nurse took the other.  With my one good arm I pulled up on a handle on the bed and your dad pulled the same shoulder towards him so I could try to get a good push.  Somehow, miraculously, I was able to make some progress.  About an hour later I got close enough to call the doctor.  Actually, we made so much progress that I was instructed to stop pushing for a few minutes before she got there.  I could already feel your head with my hand...slimy and covered in hair.  Each time I had a contraction your head pushed a little further down, even without any help.  

In the next few minutes the doctor, the NICU team, and about 6 other nurses appeared out of nowhere, prepping the room, the bed, your isolette, and a table of instruments and towels and other things I’m glad I couldn’t see. Having finally regained use of at least my arm and being able to breathe a little better, I was ready when the doctor started coaching me to push again. It was easier now because I could feel you a little...just enough to place my force correctly.  Your dad was so excited. With every push, he would tell me more about you. “His hair looks curly” “I see the tip of an ear!” “He is almost here, keep pushing!”  He counted quietly in my ear and helped support my neck while I pushed.  He told me later about how amazing it was to watch your head be delivered...it was so small at first he was worried, but as soon as the back half had been delivered it “inflated” just like a balloon...he could literally see your brain shift and vacate the bones of the rest of your skull so your whole head could be delivered.  Being born is amazing.  I had been worried about your dad in this moment, he is a little afraid of blood and guts, and deliveries are not clean or altogether pretty...but he was so excited, so amazed, realizing he could finally see you.  Between encouragements to me he would almost start talking to you, recognizing that for the first time you were a distinctly separate piece of me.  Just 20 minutes or so after the doctor arrived, I quit counting pushes and contractions and just pushed until you came.  When your head came out I kept pushing and delivered your body in one huge effort.  I remember feeling you kick again a time or two as you twisted and wriggled your way out of me.  It was like we were working together...even though no one had ever showed you how, you knew exactly what to do.  

I remember exhaling for what seemed the first time in years.  I remember a cry of emotion-- of elation--not tearful, not a yell, something from deeper in my soul.  A cry of relief and other-worldly experience.  I would have had flowing tears had you come to me next, but I only got a glimpse of you as you were handed to a large team of nurses.  I could hear them suctioning you and talking to you, I could see them fluffing you up with a big towel.  A few seconds later, after they had their way with you, we heard a big lusty cry.  What a relief.  I heard a nurse say, “It’s a boy!” and another make a phone call to the hospital operator “we have a male delivery, room 3464, October 30th at 12:51 AM.”  You cried some more, and then began coughing again, and I heard the sound of the suction and a CPAP machine.  Your dad was kissing me, telling me how proud he was of me, then looking to you and telling me what they were doing.  They called him over to trim the cord, because it got cut quickly in the rush after your delivery.  I was shivering uncontrollably from the anesthesia again, and I was lying back because my strength was gone, but he kept telling me everything he could see.  They suctioned you for several minutes, with huge return, and then felt you were stable enough to weigh (“9lbs, 1 ounce!”) and measure (“22 inches long, head 14.5 cm!”).  Your APGAR scores were good...8 and 9 at 1 and 2 minutes.  The doctor delivered a gigantic placenta in the midst of the chaos and told me that I had torn a little and started to stitch.  

They finally decided you could lay on my chest.  You smelled sweet and warm and earthy, like a bulb out of sun-soaked soil.  But you were so soft.  I’ll never forget the sensation of your skin under my fingers.  You grimaced and cried and I held you to my chest and your daddy kissed you.  As you laid there, we hoped you would quiet and start to regulate your breathing.  Instead, you started grunting again, and began to cough up more meconium.  It’s hard for little lungs and windpipes to understand what is happening in those moments.  The NICU team was watching you closely, and decided they needed to check you again.  As they listened they found some diminished breath sounds in your lungs, and felt suspicious you could have a pneumothorax.  They unplugged your isolette and began to ready you for transport.  I saw the nurse who delivered you, Phalina, put her hand on you for a few seconds, and I knew in that instant she was praying for your life.  Another nurse bundled you up and brought you back to me for one more kiss.  That’s when the tears started flowing.  My heart burst as your daddy reassured me and gave me a kiss and then followed you and the gaggle of nurses out the door.  My whole soul left the room with you two.  I’ve never felt so alone.  

Two nurses were left, quietly cleaning up the chaos.  One of them brought me a band for my wrist which connected me to your security ankle bracelet, she asked me your name and I said it for the first time to anyone but your dad.  Everett Michael...Brave and Humble.  It was a strange thing to have only a bracelet to show for all my work.  I cried and shivered for a few minutes, my nurse asked if she could get me anything.  Asking for water and juice seemed silly but I didn’t know what else to do.  They massaged my uterus (one of the more painful experiences of my life) and suddenly I realized I was no longer connected to my IV’s, no longer had a catheter, no longer had restrictions on my positioning.  I curled up my legs and tried to rest.  The room around me looked strange, which was bizarre considering I had been staring at the same ceiling for about 50 hours.  

Your dad came back not too long after to update me.  I was afraid at first, thinking he would never have left your side unless something was wrong, but he was worried about me and wanted to give me all the information.  He said you were doing great...he didn’t really know of course, but he could see all the care you were getting and the way the nurses were quick but calm as they worked on you.  You had a chest x-ray showing a possible pneumonia and a very small pneumothorax.  They were giving you antibiotics to make sure you didn’t get a spreading infection.  One of the nurses came back and talked to me too and I felt better understanding what was happening to you from a medical perspective.  Your dad left again and my nurse tried again to get my bleeding to stop.  We walked back and forth from the bathroom and luckily I didn’t have any trouble going.  I had to wait a little over 2 hours before they would release me into a wheelchair to go down the hall to my new room...my recovery room.  I had to wait a little longer to make sure my bleeding was stable.  We settled in and then finally, at long last got to walk down the hall and scrub into the NICU to see you at about 4 am. 

Walking into that room was sobering.  As much as I had been afraid for you, I realized now how good your chances were compared to many around you. Little 3 and 4 pound babies surrounded you, some too fragile to breathe the air, isolettes covered in blankets to avoid their little retinas from being damaged.  We walked in to your cubicle and the nurses were working with you, we watched her adjust your IV drip and change your diaper and suction your mouth.  You had a heart monitor with 3 leads, an IV in your little hand, an O2 saturation probe wrapped around your foot, an O2 cannula attached to humidification and taped to your face, and several scabs and poke marks already on your remaining hand and foot.  But you were ours.  We couldn’t believe how blessed we were.  They wouldn’t let us feed you at first, but they did let us do skin-to-skin time with you.  Your daddy held you first while I got settled, seeing your sweet skin against his bare chest is another picture I’ll always remember from that day.  

Time stopped when they finally handed you to me...there were so few moments that could compare.  Even with the wires and the beeping monitors, having your warm head against my chest and your tiny body nestled between my breasts was an honor, and an intensely huge weight I was almost afraid to bear.  I could feel my heart opening for you...and I had no idea how big it would open before it stopped.  I think maybe it never will stop.  We cuddled you for over an hour, studying every feature, commenting on every cry, expression, wrinkle, fingernail, grunt.  You were perfect.  

I started bleeding again and we hadn’t slept at all, so about 6 am we finally returned to our room for a couple of hours of sleep.  We didn’t last long.  We were back by your side by 9.  It just didn’t feel right not to be with you.  

About 12 hours into your stay, we knew you were out of real danger.  They kept giving you antibiotics to prevent any onset of infection, and we awaited culture results.  But we could see your breathing improve, we watched as one by one the wires came away, first oxygen, then other monitors.  We saw you become more alert, more calm, and sleep for longer periods.  They finally let you start breast feeding, which was a process but not a significantly more challenging one than with any other baby.  We noticed immediately that you had an emotion and opinion about everything.  It seemed like your favorite expression was the “stink eye” which you relegated on anyone who moved their pinky wrong. Sometimes you would only deem us worthy of one slit-eye to deliver a message of “you know what you did.” The littlest movements would make you wrinkle your forehead, scrunch your eyes, furrow your brows, and curl your mouth into a pout or a disgusted but resigned scowl.  We hated to admit how much your disdain made us laugh.  We lived for every coo and grunt of frustration.  We learned your cries quickly...angry, hungry, startled.  I started to call you “my little tree frog” for the way you clicked and hiccupped against your nasal swelling and residual meconium, and the way you tucked in your lanky legs and arms and clung to my chest.  

Grandma Beth arrived the same day you were born, around 3pm, and couldn’t believe her luck that she could hold you in your first day of life.  She was smitten with you from the very first moment, she smelled you and nuzzled you and talked to you like you were an old friend.  She was more comfortable in her role initially than we were in ours...we felt we were still getting to know you through the first few days...she seemed to know you before she even arrived.  Certainly the space in her heart for you did.  

Late Friday night, after grandma had left for her hotel and Daddy and I were sitting with you, your daddy saw the clock and realized you had been alive for almost 23 hours.  He sang you “Happy Birthday” slowly and softly as you cuddled on his chest.  That sound, the sound of his voice and his song made you open your eyes wide for the first time, and you just stared at him. You craned your head back into the crook of his elbow and just watched his mouth...you seemed to absorb the sound through your eyes and softened face.  There was no doubt you recognized his voice after all those months of him talking to you through my belly.  Seeing him talk to you, enthralled by your every movement, and ready do to anything to care for you made me fall deeper in love with him than I ever thought possible.  His love for you was tangible from the first hours.  There is no man I would rather raise a son with.   

You were in the NICU for parts of 3 days...just a brief stay compared to so many around you.  Yet just that time was very hard.  We loved every second we got to spend with you, but we hated the wires, we hated having to scrub in and only sit with you two people at a time.  We hated having to leave you in your isolette.  We really hated when I was discharged 24 hours ahead of you and we had to leave the hospital with an empty car seat still in the back seat.  We stayed at the Ronald McDonald house across town that night, and it was such a gift.  To have people there who understood what it was like to have a sick child was so comforting.  It was there that the baby blues and the lack of sleep and the unknowns about when you would be released and the weight of being your mom caught up to me.  I was tearful, almost hysterical, more than once inside those walls. But I was safe to cry there in a way I felt I couldn’t while we were in the hospital.  I was ready to go back every time they called that you were hungry, but having a space to unload my emotional baggage was worth more than I could have known.    

Finally, at long last, you were discharged on Sunday evening.  The nurses readied you to go, finally taking off every piece of tape and every wire.  We dressed you for the first time, and discovered some of your newborn clothes were already too small.  We wrapped you in blankets and tucked you in your car seat and carried you out to the car.  We said goodbye to your amazing nurses who had become lactation consultants and counselors and friends in the three short days we spent with them.  We put you in the car and drove, ever so cautiously out of Bakersfield and through the canyon into the mountains.  We walked into our new home with the greatest prize we could have imagined, almost giddy that they let us just walk out of that place with you in our arms.  

On arriving home, your daddy and me hugged you in our kitchen...finally we were all together, with grandma, and no one could tell us what happened next, except for us.  We felt like a family.  

In the first 10 minutes at home, you had a blowout poopy diaper on your daddy, and as we were changing you we found you baptized in your own pee.  We laughed and struggled with snaps and zippers and diaper sizes.  We cherished the sounds, even your cries, ringing through our hallway.  And we celebrated as we snuggled with you in our own bed.  That night we hardly slept. You were wakeful, and even with that I could hardly put my head on my pillow without my hand on you, feeling each deep breath under your little tummy.  We woke groggily, happily, immersed in the beautiful mystery of parenthood and joy and uncertainty.  Your life lay before us like a blank page, and we happily began to fill it.