6/18/13 - "Amelia Krystyna"
Blogger's Note: This post is for me. As I stated when I started this blog, I wanted to use this as much for my personal journal as for (hopefully) the entertainment of anyone that might read it. One of the biggest milestones of my life took place this past week, and I would like to write a record of the account as I remember it. And, with any luck, this story might be entertaining as well.
This week's feature is late for obvious reasons which is a bit fortunate for me. It allows me to "double up" this week. Having a newborn in our house has given me a million things to share and reflect on here, so having two to write this week will allow me to a) tell the story of Amelia's arrival and b) reflect on the impact she has on our household. I'm taking this week off work, so my next entry may come on Friday (instead of the usual Thursday) before it gets back to its regularly scheduled time...
I've been here before. The St Louis Cardinals were losing to the New York Mets (in fact, they would go on to lose this game.) This atrocity would stir our unborn child (just as it had Roman...) into action. My children love the Cardinals so much that they "flipped" at the idea of our favorite team suffering defeat; and, perhaps, the Mets was/is/will be their most hated team!
Joanna informed me somewhere around 6:30pm on Wednesday, June the 12th that she felt something. I knew immediately what it was; Joanna isn't one for drama. Her something was one of those early, easy contractions. The ones that don't really hurt yet, but warn you to get ready. So, I called mom and told her to be ready. I said we wanted to make double sure before she started heading this way, but there was a good chance we'd need her to make her way to our house to take care of Roman (this was already the plan and we were about to put it into action). Within thirty minutes, I had called her back and told her to get here. Joanna's contractions were getting closer together and more intense.
By the time mom arrived, we wouldn't waste any time. We threw Joanna's prepared luggage into our van and headed to Western Baptist hospital. Roman, caught in the excitement, was practicing the words "baby sister". He looked thoughtful as we said goodbye and see you soon to him... as if he understood. Mom was excited, but she kept it under control admirably.
Joanna insisted I park the van rather than drop her off at the entrance. Obliging, we walked from the parking garage to the hospital. We had to stop twice along the way as a couple of intensifying contractions doubled her over. A couple of off-duty nurses offered to get her a wheelchair. Joanna insisted she would walk.
We buzzed the nurses' station; they let us in. A lady was nervously talking to one of the nurses. Explaining that that was her daughter in there! She wanted to be with her! The nurse quoted the rules to this lady with little compassion. Apparently, only one person is allowed in the room during a C-Section, and the girl already had someone in the room with her. I could certainly understand and appreciate a rule such as this; I couldn't however, for the life of me, understand why this bitch of a nurse couldn't find a nicer way to say it. Or a nicer way to ask her to wait in the "Waiting Area." And, then Bitch Nurse addressed us...
"You come with me," she addressed to Joanna. "You go to the Waiting Area for now. I'll come and get you when we're ready..."
The Waiting Area? What is this Waiting Area you speak of?? This is what I was thinking. Instead of saying anything, I stood next to the Nurse's Station (which I assumed was the Waiting Area) and "waited." This wasn't anything like it had gone when Joanna delivered Roman. This must be a new "thing."
Joanna and Bitch Nurse went to a room. What happened during this time, of course I don't know. After roughly five minutes, Bitch Nurse came out and saw me. "Ummm.. Sir?? I asked you to wait in the Waiting Area...."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied sincerely. "I thought that meant here..."
"I guess I should have explained it better," she said as if she knew she had already explained it perfectly well, "follow me."
She led me beyond the buzzer door, down the hall, and to the "Waiting Room" where several other people were tiredly "waiting." "Wait here until I come and get you..." she left.
I didn't sit. I paced the room; my impatience and anger growing. Why would I, the father, be out here while my wife was in one stage or another of birthing my child? Time was slipping, and I was missing something. I felt certain (and I would find out later that this was indeed the case) that they were going to ascertain that I wasn't some sort of abusive husband that would black her eyes whilst she was giving birth because she couldn't pause long enough to make me a sandwich! But surely couldn't they figure that out in five minutes or less?? They certainly could during our adventure that led us to Roman, less than that in fact.
Thirty solid minutes passed before I had had enough!
I went back to the buzzer door and buzzed in. No one answered; the doors just opened. I walked in and several nurses at the Nurse's Station looked up and smiled. Confused, I asked, "May I go in and be with my wife?" They looked at me with expressions of confusion and at each other. "Umm, yeah.. I think so.. she's in that room over there..."
I took a couple of steps in that direction when Bitch Nurse stepped out of that room. "Can I go in now and be with my wife?" I asked in a tone that clearly said, "I'm going in now to be with my wife."
She responded, "well, I guess it's ok now..."
I entered the room and didn't tell Joanna exactly what had transpired. She didn't need anymore on her plate. But now it was about to be a really long night. She gripped her midsection as a contraction jolted her. I gave her my hand to squeeze, and she nearly broke it... the contractions had gotten really intense during my absence.
The door opened, and a different nurse walked in. "Hi, I'm Nice Nurse (that wasn't her name, but I don't remember it). I'll be taking over for Bitch Nurse (don't remember her name either), because it's time for the day shift to leave and night shift to start."
Insert a choir of angels singing HALLELUJAH! here.
Nice Nurse would prove to be absolutely fantastic. I cannot help but think that somebody/somewhere tipped the scales of fate here, and I am so damn thankful for that. I like to think Bitch Nurse went home that night to her boyfriend Biker Dude and made him a sandwich - a big loaded sandwich with the mayo spread to the edges and the crusts taken off the bread because that's how he likes it and she knows what happens when she doesn't make a sandwich the way he likes it. And, then, as she hands him...
Oh, wait. Where were we? Oh yeah....
Joanna's contractions had snowballed. They were VERY close together and VERY intense. Nice Nurse informed us that this was escalating quickly. Joanna was begging for an epidural. But, apparently, an epidural can't be given until one bag of I.V. stuff (I think it's the same stuff that turns Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk) drips into Joanna's arm. She explained that the anesthesiologist was on duty and ready to go just as soon as the bag was emptied.
Time moved so slowly here. Joanna's contractions seemed just seconds apart, and the monitor that graphed them displayed spikes that nearly touched the top of the screen. She was begging for the epidural, and she was crushing my hand.
After what felt like an eternity, the bag emptied. A man smacking his chomps on gum and looking a bit like a washed-up surfer dude in scrubs promptly rolled a cart of contraptions into the room. After a bit of negotiation, Joanna was sitting up and holding still with her back rolled to help Mr. Hubba Bubba locate the correct vertebrae to hit for the epidural. Finally, the epidural was in.
But something was wrong.
A few seconds after the epidural that Joanna had received while in labor with Roman, the pain had almost completely subsided. But she felt no change with this one. The pain level was exactly the same. Mr. Hubba Bubba was asserting that he'd been doing this since '86, that he was certain he "hit the right spot", and that sometimes it just takes a little more time. But after various tests performed by him and Nice Nurse, everyone except Mr. Hubba Bubba felt pretty damn certain that the epidural didn't take.
He said he was going to leave and come back in a few minutes, because he had to be triple certain that it didn't take before he could give her another one. A double dose "could be bad."
After about thirty minutes (an eternity), he came back.
"Well, this is a first," he insisted. "I've been doing this since '86, and I know I hit the right spot..."
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' I was thinking, 'just give her another one already, ya pickle head.'
And so he did. After much negotiation, Joanna was sitting up and again in the right position. He gave her another "dose." And this one took almost immediately.
Joanna's pain left the room like a hangover fart drifting towards an open window; she laid back and exhaled. She closed her eyes and dozed off.
I sat in a chair in the room. Closing my eyes, I, too, dozed off for a few.
Nice Nurse woke me up. "It's time to push," she announced.
I jerked to attention. And while I know I was no where near the level that Joanna must have been, I felt groggy and exhausted. I had noticed a coffee machine by the Nurse's Station when we had arrived. Coffee just might be what I needed to kick me back into 'Operating Mode.'
I left the room, hardly noticing that Dr. Mueller was sitting on the bed, quickly preparing for the task. I poured myself a cup of java and grabbed a couple of packs of sugar and creamer. I returned to the room and starting preparing the coffee. The work was about to begin. With Roman, Joanna had pushed for nearly 4 hours; it had been a long and grueling effort - a marathon, not a sprint.
"Ok... push..." Dr. Mueller instructed. I stirred my coffee and thought that Joanna would be ok if I wasn't right by her side for a couple of pushes. I just needed to take 60 seconds for some caffeine.
"Ok, I see her head.... push..." Dr. Mueller said. 'You saw.. wait-a-minute... her head??... do what???'.
I left the coffee where it was and took my post by Joanna's side, her hand in mine. Now, I could see the baby. Suddenly, I didn't need any coffee to feel awake.
After five pushes (and not more than five minutes), a sound filled the room.
Some things lift our senses beyond description. The first smell of popcorn when you open the door at the movie theatre; the shush of a salty, ocean wave receding across a sun-drenched beach; a waft of honeysuckle that strays into your path during a soft, summer stroll; the smell of rain evaporating from hot asphalt; the old-paper smell that hangs around dusky, old bookstores; and, simply, the sound of distant laughter.
Standing high among all of these is a baby's first cry. Now, all future cries are quite the opposite; but, that first one is a sound that defines relief in a way that nothing else can. And Amelia was crying on her way out.
"Now that's a first..." Dr. Mueller admitted. She was a friendly, middle-aged woman with a calm, but commanding demeanor. "In all my years, I don't recall ever having one start crying before she ever even got out."
For Amelia was crying before she was even free of her mother's womb -- an omen of things to come?? I smiled to myself.
Dr. Mueller handed me that tool that's used to cut the umbilical cord, and I obliged zealously.
Amelia Krystyna Edwards was born on June 13, 2013 at 3:38am at Western Baptist Hospital in Paducah, Kentucky weighing in a 8 lbs. 4 oz at a length of 18.75 inches. And she was healthy.
She was born on the premier date of the "Man of Steel" (you know, the Superman movie?), so I suppose she's my little Supergirl. And with a birthday like 6/13/13, I figure she'll be a little hellraiser.
We took turns holding her and taking pictures. I hugged my wife and told her I loved her. And suddenly our family was +1.
Blogger's Note: This post is for me. As I stated when I started this blog, I wanted to use this as much for my personal journal as for (hopefully) the entertainment of anyone that might read it. One of the biggest milestones of my life took place this past week, and I would like to write a record of the account as I remember it. And, with any luck, this story might be entertaining as well.
This week's feature is late for obvious reasons which is a bit fortunate for me. It allows me to "double up" this week. Having a newborn in our house has given me a million things to share and reflect on here, so having two to write this week will allow me to a) tell the story of Amelia's arrival and b) reflect on the impact she has on our household. I'm taking this week off work, so my next entry may come on Friday (instead of the usual Thursday) before it gets back to its regularly scheduled time...
I've been here before. The St Louis Cardinals were losing to the New York Mets (in fact, they would go on to lose this game.) This atrocity would stir our unborn child (just as it had Roman...) into action. My children love the Cardinals so much that they "flipped" at the idea of our favorite team suffering defeat; and, perhaps, the Mets was/is/will be their most hated team!
Joanna informed me somewhere around 6:30pm on Wednesday, June the 12th that she felt something. I knew immediately what it was; Joanna isn't one for drama. Her something was one of those early, easy contractions. The ones that don't really hurt yet, but warn you to get ready. So, I called mom and told her to be ready. I said we wanted to make double sure before she started heading this way, but there was a good chance we'd need her to make her way to our house to take care of Roman (this was already the plan and we were about to put it into action). Within thirty minutes, I had called her back and told her to get here. Joanna's contractions were getting closer together and more intense.
By the time mom arrived, we wouldn't waste any time. We threw Joanna's prepared luggage into our van and headed to Western Baptist hospital. Roman, caught in the excitement, was practicing the words "baby sister". He looked thoughtful as we said goodbye and see you soon to him... as if he understood. Mom was excited, but she kept it under control admirably.
Joanna insisted I park the van rather than drop her off at the entrance. Obliging, we walked from the parking garage to the hospital. We had to stop twice along the way as a couple of intensifying contractions doubled her over. A couple of off-duty nurses offered to get her a wheelchair. Joanna insisted she would walk.
We buzzed the nurses' station; they let us in. A lady was nervously talking to one of the nurses. Explaining that that was her daughter in there! She wanted to be with her! The nurse quoted the rules to this lady with little compassion. Apparently, only one person is allowed in the room during a C-Section, and the girl already had someone in the room with her. I could certainly understand and appreciate a rule such as this; I couldn't however, for the life of me, understand why this bitch of a nurse couldn't find a nicer way to say it. Or a nicer way to ask her to wait in the "Waiting Area." And, then Bitch Nurse addressed us...
"You come with me," she addressed to Joanna. "You go to the Waiting Area for now. I'll come and get you when we're ready..."
The Waiting Area? What is this Waiting Area you speak of?? This is what I was thinking. Instead of saying anything, I stood next to the Nurse's Station (which I assumed was the Waiting Area) and "waited." This wasn't anything like it had gone when Joanna delivered Roman. This must be a new "thing."
Joanna and Bitch Nurse went to a room. What happened during this time, of course I don't know. After roughly five minutes, Bitch Nurse came out and saw me. "Ummm.. Sir?? I asked you to wait in the Waiting Area...."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied sincerely. "I thought that meant here..."
"I guess I should have explained it better," she said as if she knew she had already explained it perfectly well, "follow me."
She led me beyond the buzzer door, down the hall, and to the "Waiting Room" where several other people were tiredly "waiting." "Wait here until I come and get you..." she left.
I didn't sit. I paced the room; my impatience and anger growing. Why would I, the father, be out here while my wife was in one stage or another of birthing my child? Time was slipping, and I was missing something. I felt certain (and I would find out later that this was indeed the case) that they were going to ascertain that I wasn't some sort of abusive husband that would black her eyes whilst she was giving birth because she couldn't pause long enough to make me a sandwich! But surely couldn't they figure that out in five minutes or less?? They certainly could during our adventure that led us to Roman, less than that in fact.
Thirty solid minutes passed before I had had enough!
I went back to the buzzer door and buzzed in. No one answered; the doors just opened. I walked in and several nurses at the Nurse's Station looked up and smiled. Confused, I asked, "May I go in and be with my wife?" They looked at me with expressions of confusion and at each other. "Umm, yeah.. I think so.. she's in that room over there..."
I took a couple of steps in that direction when Bitch Nurse stepped out of that room. "Can I go in now and be with my wife?" I asked in a tone that clearly said, "I'm going in now to be with my wife."
She responded, "well, I guess it's ok now..."
I entered the room and didn't tell Joanna exactly what had transpired. She didn't need anymore on her plate. But now it was about to be a really long night. She gripped her midsection as a contraction jolted her. I gave her my hand to squeeze, and she nearly broke it... the contractions had gotten really intense during my absence.
The door opened, and a different nurse walked in. "Hi, I'm Nice Nurse (that wasn't her name, but I don't remember it). I'll be taking over for Bitch Nurse (don't remember her name either), because it's time for the day shift to leave and night shift to start."
Insert a choir of angels singing HALLELUJAH! here.
Nice Nurse would prove to be absolutely fantastic. I cannot help but think that somebody/somewhere tipped the scales of fate here, and I am so damn thankful for that. I like to think Bitch Nurse went home that night to her boyfriend Biker Dude and made him a sandwich - a big loaded sandwich with the mayo spread to the edges and the crusts taken off the bread because that's how he likes it and she knows what happens when she doesn't make a sandwich the way he likes it. And, then, as she hands him...
Oh, wait. Where were we? Oh yeah....
Joanna's contractions had snowballed. They were VERY close together and VERY intense. Nice Nurse informed us that this was escalating quickly. Joanna was begging for an epidural. But, apparently, an epidural can't be given until one bag of I.V. stuff (I think it's the same stuff that turns Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk) drips into Joanna's arm. She explained that the anesthesiologist was on duty and ready to go just as soon as the bag was emptied.
Time moved so slowly here. Joanna's contractions seemed just seconds apart, and the monitor that graphed them displayed spikes that nearly touched the top of the screen. She was begging for the epidural, and she was crushing my hand.
After what felt like an eternity, the bag emptied. A man smacking his chomps on gum and looking a bit like a washed-up surfer dude in scrubs promptly rolled a cart of contraptions into the room. After a bit of negotiation, Joanna was sitting up and holding still with her back rolled to help Mr. Hubba Bubba locate the correct vertebrae to hit for the epidural. Finally, the epidural was in.
But something was wrong.
A few seconds after the epidural that Joanna had received while in labor with Roman, the pain had almost completely subsided. But she felt no change with this one. The pain level was exactly the same. Mr. Hubba Bubba was asserting that he'd been doing this since '86, that he was certain he "hit the right spot", and that sometimes it just takes a little more time. But after various tests performed by him and Nice Nurse, everyone except Mr. Hubba Bubba felt pretty damn certain that the epidural didn't take.
He said he was going to leave and come back in a few minutes, because he had to be triple certain that it didn't take before he could give her another one. A double dose "could be bad."
After about thirty minutes (an eternity), he came back.
"Well, this is a first," he insisted. "I've been doing this since '86, and I know I hit the right spot..."
'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' I was thinking, 'just give her another one already, ya pickle head.'
And so he did. After much negotiation, Joanna was sitting up and again in the right position. He gave her another "dose." And this one took almost immediately.
Joanna's pain left the room like a hangover fart drifting towards an open window; she laid back and exhaled. She closed her eyes and dozed off.
I sat in a chair in the room. Closing my eyes, I, too, dozed off for a few.
Nice Nurse woke me up. "It's time to push," she announced.
I jerked to attention. And while I know I was no where near the level that Joanna must have been, I felt groggy and exhausted. I had noticed a coffee machine by the Nurse's Station when we had arrived. Coffee just might be what I needed to kick me back into 'Operating Mode.'
I left the room, hardly noticing that Dr. Mueller was sitting on the bed, quickly preparing for the task. I poured myself a cup of java and grabbed a couple of packs of sugar and creamer. I returned to the room and starting preparing the coffee. The work was about to begin. With Roman, Joanna had pushed for nearly 4 hours; it had been a long and grueling effort - a marathon, not a sprint.
"Ok... push..." Dr. Mueller instructed. I stirred my coffee and thought that Joanna would be ok if I wasn't right by her side for a couple of pushes. I just needed to take 60 seconds for some caffeine.
"Ok, I see her head.... push..." Dr. Mueller said. 'You saw.. wait-a-minute... her head??... do what???'.
I left the coffee where it was and took my post by Joanna's side, her hand in mine. Now, I could see the baby. Suddenly, I didn't need any coffee to feel awake.
After five pushes (and not more than five minutes), a sound filled the room.
Some things lift our senses beyond description. The first smell of popcorn when you open the door at the movie theatre; the shush of a salty, ocean wave receding across a sun-drenched beach; a waft of honeysuckle that strays into your path during a soft, summer stroll; the smell of rain evaporating from hot asphalt; the old-paper smell that hangs around dusky, old bookstores; and, simply, the sound of distant laughter.
Standing high among all of these is a baby's first cry. Now, all future cries are quite the opposite; but, that first one is a sound that defines relief in a way that nothing else can. And Amelia was crying on her way out.
"Now that's a first..." Dr. Mueller admitted. She was a friendly, middle-aged woman with a calm, but commanding demeanor. "In all my years, I don't recall ever having one start crying before she ever even got out."
For Amelia was crying before she was even free of her mother's womb -- an omen of things to come?? I smiled to myself.
Dr. Mueller handed me that tool that's used to cut the umbilical cord, and I obliged zealously.
Amelia Krystyna Edwards was born on June 13, 2013 at 3:38am at Western Baptist Hospital in Paducah, Kentucky weighing in a 8 lbs. 4 oz at a length of 18.75 inches. And she was healthy.
She was born on the premier date of the "Man of Steel" (you know, the Superman movie?), so I suppose she's my little Supergirl. And with a birthday like 6/13/13, I figure she'll be a little hellraiser.
We took turns holding her and taking pictures. I hugged my wife and told her I loved her. And suddenly our family was +1.
No comments:
Post a Comment