In the Minds of Babes

My little sleeping baby. What are you thinking about? What are you dreaming about? What do you see as you look around the room? What’s going through your mind as you dream? Are you thinking about me and your mommy? Are you reliving the horrors and trauma of your first couple of days? Are you just taking in all of the new sensations? Are you dreaming about milk? Is that why you’re smiling?

I want you to know every day how much I love you. I’m not the kind of daddy who will hide it. I will hug you and kiss you, and I’ll tell you I love you. I’ll cry when you hurt, and I’ll gush with pride when you accomplish everything. I never want you to wonder. You’re awesome and amazing. You’re everything I wanted and more. I’m so incredibly lucky. I don’t want to go to work and miss out on a single thing that you do. I want to take in every look, and sound, and gesture. I want to be there for all of your firsts. But I can’t. I have to work to provide for you and take care of you. I want you to have the best, and that means I have to miss some things to give them to you. I’m so sorry for that. I would be there every second if I could. I miss you already. You will never fathom the depth of my love for you. My heart is so full that it runneth over. I’m crying as I write this, because I feel so much for you, my beautiful little baby boy. And I can’t stop. You’re everything to me, and everything I do is for you. I will protect you and fight for you. You’re my family now, and that’s forever.

Blisters

My wife went to bathe tonight and noticed that she had an infection at the edges of her bandages. When the nurse removed it, she found red, inflamed blisters running along the edge of where the adhesive was on her skin. Apparently, the bandages were pulling on her skin, especially as her constipation created a buildup of gas in her stomach. So the doctor called them tension blisters, and they are extremely painful. My wife was moaning and crying so bad with the pain that we ended up with seven people in our room to give her comfort at midnight.

Both of us are exhausted. The constant routine of caring for the baby all day long, the frequent interruptions by the nursing staff, and now the blisters have worn us out. We weren’t looking forward to another sleepless night, so when the nurse offered to take the baby to the nursery for the night, we gladly accepted. Honestly, I just can’t deal with trying to take care of my wife’s needs and the baby’s. I feel pulled in multiple directions, and stretched too far. Especially, since my wife can’t really help, so I’m doing all of the feedings and changes myself. I hate to send the little guy away, but I keep telling myself that it’s for the best.

Sleepwalker

My wife couldn’t take being away from the baby, so at 3 am she wanted to get up and shuffle down to the nursery to see him. We stood outside the window watching him sleep. My wife stood there, tears streaming down her face, feeling an indescribable tether between his heart and her own. Even two doors away was too far...

Dreaming

At some point in the night, the baby started fidgeting in his sleep. I think he was dreaming...reliving the traumatic experiences of the day in vivid detail. Every time he moved or cooed or fidgeted, I opened one eye and checked on him. I was always aware of his presence. My wife slept through it. To be fair, she had had a rough day and was exhausted. But still, I wish I had the superpower to sleep through anything and fall asleep instantly. They came in every 30 min to check something, poke something, adjust something. Sleep was a distant memory.

This morning, I changed my first dirty diaper when he pooped while I was holding him. I felt a thud on my arm and heard a squish as it hit the diaper. I no sooner got him cleaned and diapered up, then he pooped again! Three times in a row! He knew what he was doing. I swear I saw a small smile escape his lips. I ended up with poop all over my hand, but that was more due to my carelessness. Later he tried to pee on me when I removed his diaper, but my ninja reflexes kicked in and it passed harmlessly over my shoulder.

My mother and mother-in-law were able to come up to the hospital for the birth. It was nice to have the support. They brought us snacks and much-needed supplies today. Both of them cried when they held him. It’s pretty awesome to see how loved the little guy is by everyone.

The nurses have all fallen in love with him. They think he’s the cutest little thing. I know that everyone is biased when it comes to their babies being cute, but in this case it’s actually true. He is the cutest little thing. I can’t imagine a more perfect baby. The way that he pouches out his lips and scrunches his brow in consternation. The way that his dark hair sticks straight up in the middle of his head. His cute little button nose, and his stormy dark-gray eyes. His tiny little fingers and big feet. All of it is so beautifully put together...it’s so...Troy.

The Day My Life Changed Forever

Today was mostly a blur, but somehow we calmly got ready and drove to the hospital for our scheduled c-section. My wife was incredibly nervous as we waited for them to call her back to the OR. I didn't really have a task, and I felt like I was in the way. I just stood off to the side and watched the preparations. When everything was ready and all of the nurses left, I calmed her into a light doze.

It wasn't long before they came and got her, and I was given some scrubs to change into. She was gone some 15 minutes before they finally came and got me. Based on my history of passing out during medical procedures, I had asked the nurse to provide me with a chair to sit in. I figured that if I went down at least I'd be closer to the floor to minimize the damage. They had my wife on the table with a curtain up around her shoulders, so that all I could see was her head.

The doctors did their thing. I don't know what that was, because I was focused on stroking my wife's hair and talking to her to distract her. I'm not exactly sure what she felt, but her face was filled with panic the entire time. The fear of something going wrong and being completely powerless to do anything about it. But nothing went wrong, and at exactly 1:06 p.m., the unhappy screams of a brand new baby reverberated from the OR walls. They lifted him up briefly for us to see, and then quickly whisked him over to the scales and prep area.

I'm not sure what happened at that moment. We had both been relatively calm and collected. But the moment that that baby entered the world, my wife started crying, and then I started crying. And all I could get out was a sniffly, "Thank You" to my wife, before I went to check on the baby.

He was 10 lbs 2.3 oz and 22 inches long. The newborn diapers didn't really fit him, and his feet were too big to even fit on the footprinting ink pad. One of the nurses said that we didn't have a baby, we had a toddler already. And the doctor said that my wife was doing really well, despite the fact that she'd had a ginormous baby inside of her. Nobody was expecting him to be that big! The last ultrasound had him at around 8 1/2 lbs, so needless to say this was a huge surprise (pun intended). I guess that's why both my wife and the baby found the process so uncomfortable at the end. There wasn't enough space in there for both of them

Normally, they immediately place the baby skin-to-skin with his mother, but because of the c-section, I was the first one to hold him instead. He was screaming bloody murder, and I told him that he gets that from his mother because that’s a Greek thing. As I held him in my arms, wrapped tightly in a blanket, I got to shush him, and rock him, and speak to him. I told him his name was Troy, that we loved him, and that we’d waited a long time to meet him. I told him that he was our little miracle, and that we were blessed that God entrusted him to us. Apparently, he was hungry and cold and generally unhappy with the entire establishment.

The nurse took him from me to give him his Hepatits B shot and Vitamin K shot. They also put some kind of drops in his eyes. I caught a brief glimpse of them when she pried them apart. They were a sort of dark, stormy gray with just a hint of dark blue. And they were absolutely gorgeous. He was red and pruny, and his fingertips were kind of a bluish purple. He had a full head of dark brown hair, which looked funny on a newborn baby. He had been a breach baby, which meant he was turned the wrong way in the womb, and he was entrenched, which meant he didn't want to come out. So, the doctor had had to reach in and pull him out by his feet. This left a dark red bruise on his little left ankle, which I later commented was like Achilles' heel.

The nurse tried to sooth the baby by putting her finger in his mouth, so he could suck on it. This helped a bit, but he still was giving little moaning sobs in between the sucks. On the other side, my wife was crying frantically and asking me a million questions that all amounted to "Is he okay?" and "Why is he crying?"

The nurse took him over to see her, and gently pressed the baby's cheek to my wife's. It was like a switch went off in both of them. Both instantly stopped crying and visibly relaxed. They simultaneously closed their eyes and just relished that first contact with each other. My wife, so used to having him near for so many months, couldn't stand to be apart from him. My baby, so used to my wife's smell, warmth, sound, and heartbeat was too scared to face this new world without her. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. It was a God thing, and it was totally right.

The sewing up process took longer than expected. Apparently, the doctor had to go through a fibroid, which took more time, and my wife ended up losing a lot of blood. They prepped her for a transfusion, while the doctor diligently sewed layer after layer, seven in all. Luckily, there were no major complications, though you couldn't tell it from looking at the OR floor. There were pools of blood everywhere! I don't even know how my wife survived the process. She's an amazing woman.

After she was all back together again, the three of us were wheeled down the hall back to our room (well they were wheeled, I was dumbly stumbling along beside them). My mom and my wife's mom were allowed to come in and see the baby and check on my wife. My wife didn't make it long before she ultimately passed out from exhaustion. It was about this time that the nurses came back to take the baby for an X-Ray on his ankle, which turned out to be negative.

I'm not sure exactly how long the whole process took, because I lost track somewhere in the middle, but I do know that in a moment, my entire life changed forever. I am a father. God has fulfilled His promise to me from so long ago on that night on the couch. I am terrified of what kind of father I'll be, and whether I'll be enough. But I'm excited to find out as well.

And so the adventure begins...

Preparation

Tomorrow is the big day. I'm anxious, not because I'm worried anything will go wrong, but more because I'm ready for the next phase. We've waited so long, I'm ready to finally meet the little guy. Of course my wife is worried, or better panicked. I doubt she'll even sleep tonight. I'm not worried, though, because God has been making me into the exact perfect man that I need to be. Besides, as long as He’s there with me, why would I need to worry. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. So we...the three of us...can raise this baby together.

I HAVE been struggling today to decide on the perfect beard/mustache combination. Tomorrow, I meet my son for the first time, and I want to make a good first impression. I'll be the first thing he sees, so it's got to be just right. Strange that this is what I choose to be worried about!

Here, Pablo, hold my baby!

Pablo Francisco did a comedy skit one time about what it was like to date a Latina girl. He said it was great because they always have your back. If you’re going to get into a fight, then they’ll jump in it with you. At one point he was impersonating a Latina girlfriend, and she was going off on someone for picking a fight with him, and she stops and turns to Pablo, and says, “Here, Pablo, hold my baby!”

I feel like Pablo. Not dating a Latina girl, but standing there holding someone else’s baby. Why does everyone that has a baby feel the need to make me hold it just because we’re expecting? I don’t want to hold everyone else’s baby. I want to hold my own. It’s not the same, and I don’t need practice. I’m going to get plenty of practice holding my own son.

Do they think I’m going to change my mind after holding their baby? It’s a little too late for that! So other than dumping their kid off on me for a little bit, what purpose does it serve?!

Walnuts

So this happened today at our sonogram:

Me: What is that thing on the left that looks like a walnut.
Ben the Sonographer (chuckling): Those are his testicles. So yes, I guess calling them walnuts is accurate.
Me (bright red): Okay, I guess we're definitely having a boy then.
Wife: I can't believe you just called them walnuts!

This is the first time in nine months that I have ever spoken in the sonogram room, and this is what I end up talking about! I was completely embarrassed, and yet I was still tempted to ask for a printout...is that wrong?

My friend said that he's going to call my son "Walnuts," and my brother said he's going to buy some of those bull testicles that you hang on your truck's hitch and hang them on my son's crib. I feel this story will come up at those random family holidays for the rest of my life!

Go, No-go

Today, is the go-no go decision on whether we’re proceeding with the c section tomorrow. My wife has been sick with a cold for the last week, and she’s congested, coughing, and plugged up. She of course blames me for all of this, because I had a cold right before her. It has not been proven that it was me. Especially since I intentionally quarantined myself away from her. Regardless, she’s sick now, and the doctor isn’t sure that she’s well enough to have the surgery. So, we’re going in for a checkup. At my job, we have a go-no go meeting for our customers just before they move to production. It’s an assessment of the project status and whether we all feel that we’ll be ready in time. I thought it aptly applied to the meeting today.

Flatulence

Since my wife had been pregnant, she seems to have a lot more gas. Or she has less control over it. Or she just cares less and blames it on the pregnancy. Regardless, she’s been passing audible wind more frequently. Today, she was sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, and she let out a rather loud, vibrating flatulation. We both ignored it and kept talking. A few minutes later, I was sitting in the exact same spot, and I also had a rather loud, vibrating flatulation. Since I’m obviously not pregnant and can’t blame it on that, I came to the only possible conclusion...there’s something wrong with the tub.

La Leche League

Today, my mom told me about an organization called the "La Leche League." Apparently, they are a group of mothers that donate breast milk to help those mothers who don't produce enough or produce any at all. They've been around for over 40 years and are established all over the United States. You can log on to their site, punch in your address, and find ready breast milk waiting in your area!

I imagine it's like Uber for breast milk. You put in an order, and some mom a few doors down drives up to your house with a full bottle. You can probably even track the progress on your phone!

Thank you for your order. Your mom today is Candace. She'll be driving a red BMW, and she should arrive in 4 minutes.

Still it's a pretty amazing thing to think about, to imagine that there are caring people out there ready to help out a fellow mom in need. Maybe humanity is not dead after all.

Mismatched Socks

My wife has been washing all of the baby clothes to prepare for our son's arrival. The problem is that some of the clothes are so small that we keep losing them in the washing machine. So, now we have a large pile of one-off socks with no mate. I'm tempted to just start randomly putting them together and move on. I mean aren't mismatched socks all the rage these days?! Maybe we'll inadvertently make him the coolest baby at the nursery.

The Mysterious Jen

Today, we received a congratulations card from an unknown person. There’s was no return address, and it was merely signed “Jen.” I know of only one Jen, and she denied sending the card. So, we have no idea who it’s from. While we’re thoroughly grateful for the sentiment, it’s sort of negated by the fact that we have no clue who it’s from. I guess it’ll remain a mystery. If you’re reading this, Jen, it’s not personal. But you should really put a return address and your full name!

Made in Heaven

My wife came to me very upset. When I asked her what was wrong, she said that she is concerned that she won’t be a good mom, and that the baby won’t like her. I told her that's preposterous, because God chose him just for her and her just for him. It’s literally a match made in heaven. And on top of that, He's been working on her for years until she was in the exactly correct state to be ready for our little miracle. So if God felt she was ready, then there was no sense thinking otherwise!

Labor Day

Wouldn’t it be strange to give birth on Labor Day?  That would definitely give new meaning to that day.  I can see the mother now telling her kids, "Of course I’m taking the day off! Do you know how hard I had to work on that day?!"

Pregnant Card

My wife likes playing the I’m pregnant card when she wants something that means more work for me.  She’s actually become quite comfortable manipulating me into bending to her every whim.  And if I start to push back even a little bit, then she says, "If you won’t do it for me, then do it for the baby."  And I melt like hot butter.

I told her that she won’t be able to use the pregnant card much longer, so I hope she’s enjoying it.  She said, "That’s okay, I’ll always have the baby card!"

And she’s right.  That little turd has me wrapped around his little finger, and he’s not even here yet!

What Will He Be?

I have been struggling with something for quite a while now, and I’m not sure how it will be resolved.  It is a well-known fact that I’m descended from werewolves, and my wife is, in fact, a vampire (this of course made the Twilight series fun in our household).  So now that we’re having a baby, I’ve been struggling with what he’ll be...werewolf or vampire.

According to my wife and her apparently perfectly trustworthy source...the Underworld movie series...it’s entirely possible that he could be part of both.  The best parts of each.  That could be cool, I guess.  As long as he’s not a hairy-looking bat or something.

Unpregnant

My wife is soooooo ready to be unpregnant.  She’s exhausted from countless sleepless nights.  She’s swollen all over and everything hurts.  She said she’s uncomfortable all the time with the stretching and moving of the baby. 

Perhaps the baby is also ready to have this process done.  Maybe he’s ready to meet us, to experience life, to see stars and sunsets, to taste his mother’s cooking, to be hugged and kissed, to laugh at his father’s corny jokes, and to be loved with all the love we have waiting for him.  Maybe they’re both ready to be unpregnant.

Elevated

So my wife’s blood pressure was pretty high when they took it at the doctor’s office today.  The doctor told us to take it every night, and if it gets to 90, then she may have to be put on bed rest.  At least it would only be for a few weeks, but still not great.