A 6 pound, 14 ounce Angel

Hello blogospshere.  I have great news and bad news, first for the great- Elizabeth was born on Monday at 9:02am, healthy and beautiful.  The bad news is Becky has asked me to continue updating this blog and posting to the Facebook, so you'll be inundated with my poor jokes, raw writing style, and unimportant details to sort through to get to what you really want to know - how's the baby and how's Becky.   So, I'll back up to Monday morning, about 2 hours after posting the previous entry and catch you up to right now, Wednesday afternoon.

About 6:15am, another doctor in the practice Becky uses stopped in to take a look at Becky and discuss her progress until Becky's doctor arrived at 7am.  The stand-in (as we'll call her - not meant to be offensive because she is a VERY good doctor) said that her physical progress had slowed and recommended that we restart Pitosin, medicine that induces her.  The original round of it was used to normalize her contractions, which were coming in sets of 3 with no break, not like standard contractions are supposed to come.  The physical progress was stagnant.  The baby's heart rate was all over the place during the contractions, and, although they didn't really know why, they didn't seemed to be alarmed either.  When Pitosin is used, the impact is normally quick and the physical response is drastic.  This wasn't the case for Becky.  When the regular doctor arrived at 7am, she prepared us for the possibility of having a C-Section.  Obviously, this wasn't part of our plan, so the thought of it really took a minute to set it.  It took about 3 seconds and Becky said if it was best for the baby and her, let's get started.  About 30 minutes later, the doctor came in and confirmed her initial instinct - we weren't in an emergency situation, but Beck'y body was not going to get to the point of having a vaginal birth.  We were informed they were putting us in line for a C-Section OR, and that we likely wouldn't get back until closer to 10.  We wouldn't be returning to that LDR room after surgery, so I was tasked with packing all of our bags and moving them to a temporary holding area.

I called both sets of our parents and relayed the news.  The anesthesiologist arrived to take Becky back for the spinal tap and removal of the epidural.  I got dressed in scrubs while they did the anesthesia.  I am awful with needles and blood, and worse actually when it is for Becky (and Elizabeth), so I'm glad I wasn't expected to participate.  The only thing was that what was going to be 10am was 8:15am and we were on deck.  Both sets of parents were still over an hour away.  I was sweating uncontrollably, left in a waiting area by the doctor team to sit, or pace as it turned out.  Becky and I got to speak as she was heading in.  I gave her a kiss on the forehead (her breath was terrible) and said I love you.  She looked at me and said the one thing I needed to hear "It's all going to be okay."  Once the preparation was complete, they brought me back to the OR and let me sit next to Becky's head, a blue sheet separating us from the miracle of a C-Section.  I am not sure what was on the other side of the sheet, but the doctor's were calm and collected.  After about 10 minutes, I hear "Baby Born, 9:02".  A sigh from Becky is followed by a doctor lifitng a blood covered baby high enough to see.  We could hear her before we could see her.  They cleaned her up and let me hold her next to Becky.  They then weighed her - 6 pounds, 14 ounces.  One of the team told us the cord was wrapped around her neck - not really choking her, just holding her back when Becky had contractions and making it uncomfortable to the point that her heart rate was slowing and spiking.  We would have never had the baby vaginally, no matter how long we waited.

For me, the joy of the baby being there was complete, but the realization that love of my life is fileted open behind a camouflaging sheet never leaves.  I am terrified of the possibilities, anxious still for them to return Becky's insides to where they should be - inside - and staple her up.  I asked about 10 times how much longer - I am sure I started to sound like an 8 year old on a long trip, "Are we there yet?"  Before the stapling started, Elizabeth and I were moved to the recovery room to wait on Becky.  Elizabeth was peaceful.  She never peeped.  I was in awe just staring at her, never really completely removing my mind from the fact that we weren't a complete family without Becky being back there with us.  I just wanted Becky to be right, I wanted everything to be okay.

Becky finally arrived, slowly coming off the anesthesia.  She got to hold the baby, and I went to check on our parents and her brother who were waiting in the maternity center lobby.  At approximately noon, the baby was moved to the nursery for all to see.  Becky was moved to the post-partem room for the remainder of our stay.  Our home for the next 4 days isn't as nice as the LDR, but it'll do.  Everyone except Becky got to watch them run some tests on Elizabeth and wash her off.  The rest of the day was filled with Becky napping, feeding the baby, and recovering from surgery.  Becky's brother returned home.  The rest of us went to get something to eat.  Elizabeth barely cried at all.  This stuff seemed pretty easy.

Monday night, we got to watch the Falcons puzzle Peyton Manning into 3 first quarter interceptions.  Great for daddy's Falcons, terribly awful for daddy's big $ fantasy team.  Our parents all left to go check ino their hotels around halftime.  Just the 3 of us, our new little family, enjoyed the rest of the game.  I got to teach her about a 3-deep zone, pulling guards, and the fact that Julio Jones is open every play - throw him the ball. Crazy Chester's Ramblers lost to Mike Twin, but it was about as peaceful as I'll ever feel putting up the lowest points in the league and losing to the second lowest points in the league.  What a disgrace.

Monday night, we didn't get much sleep.  Elizabeth cried every 20 minutes or so.  Normal routine was feed her, put her to bed, spit up on herself, get pissed about being wet, cry, dry off, wait 15 minutes, get hungry, feed, put her to bed, nurse come in, on and on and on.  She had 9 dirty diapers in the first 24 hours of life.  On the 6th one which was at 4:30am Tuesday morning, she went ahead and stomped the pile of crap while I was changing her.  The cold hitting her naked body forced piercing screaming.  The wet wipe intensifies it.  Hurrriedly, I clean her foot up, clean the rest of her up, put on the new diaper, and swaddle her in a blanket.  The screaming subsides.  Victory is mine.  20 mintues later - more screaming.  Some victories are short lived.

Tuesday, she was great.  Ate and pooped and ate and pooped on a regular schedule.  Becky showered and had her bandages removed.  I was able to go home and check on the puppies and get more clothes for our unanticipated stay.  My dad flew back to New York Tuesday morning.  Mom left to go home Tuesday afternoon.  The Mansfield's are here for a while and have been so accomodating to us.  They brought us Mama Ricotta's pizza for dinner and allowed me to grab a nap.  Elizabeth slept from 1am to 5:30am, so I feel like a new man.  Elizabeth aced her hearing test and had the umbilical cord clip removed.  Becky did EVERYTHING last night, and I'm so appreciative she's been so strong and even-keeled through little sleep, constant feeding, and painful recovey.

Today, Becky took a small lap of the floor.  The incision site is still sore.  The shower this morning was painful.  Becky's eating well, and Elizabeth is cluster feeding where she eats for about 3 hours in a row for about 10-15 minutes at a time.  Right now, she's feeding.  I'm sure I'll get to change a diaper soon, but I know it's worse on Elizabeth than it is on me.  Becky has a consistent countdown on when the next set of pain pills will get here, but hopefully the pain will subside soon. 

I tell you that story to tell you this one. The Monday morning whirlwind of expecting a vaginal delivery to occur Monday afternoon to being told we'd be in a C-Section late Monday morning to realizing we were next in the flight pattern for lift off never really allowed me to process the gravity of what was happening.  I'm a planner.  I like a process.  I was trying to stay composed for Becky.  The doctors were so composed.  They talked about everything under the sun while working on Becky from the Panthers to other people that just had children.  I took pictures of Becky in surgery, the baby being weighed, we talked about vacation next Spring, the construction project that got shelved when the market crashed in 2008 where I would have managed the very C-Section room we were in, to anything but what in the world was going on in that room.  When I got to the recovery suite just me and Elizabeth, holding her, talking to her, and thinking about Becky, I just broke down.  I lost it.  I wept uncontrollably.  Here I am, a 32 year old man, holding an innocent, peaceful, silent 1 hour old baby, and I'm the one crying - A 6 pound, 14 ounce angel changing the world as I know it.