Birth Story: Part II

So, I forgot the birth plan.

For a moment I felt like we were on a long road trip and I forgot the map. I knew it was on the computer, so I thought that we could just refer to the diminutive screen whenever we needed to know something from the plan. The nurse quickly dismissed that idea and she reassured us that we would be fine without it.

Before the birth, I had a mental image of what the day was supposed to be. I think it's something we all do right before a major event in our lives. I can't remember exactly what I thought it was going to be like because that image has been replaced by what actually happened. It was a lot calmer than I thought it was going to me. I was a lot calmer than I thought I was going to be. It helped that I had my mom there to talk to throughout the day. We quickly settled into a routine: talk for a few minutes, go help my wife during a contraction, go back and continue the conversation.

The labor lasted over sixteen hours, and only two of those hours were actual hard labor. The mood and the room was light, almost festive, but it did't start out that way.

During the first few hours my wife was in a considerable amount of pain. The contractions were taking a lot out of here and there was not much we could do for a while. They were close together, but she was not advancing as quickly as we would have liked. Because the pain medication can slow down the process, the nurses were hesitant to give her anything for the pain. The anesthesiologist wasn't in yet, so that delayed things as well.

After a few hours they finally relented and let her have some drugs through an IV. The effect of the medication was evident right away as her contractions became much less painful and she was able to get some rest. A few minutes later the anesthesiologist came in and gave her the epidural, which she apparently didn't even feel. I excused myself from the room during this procedure.

Once she had the epidural, things really slowed down. She fell asleep for a while, and I got a chance to leave the room and have lunch with my parents. At this point she wasn't even feeling the contractions; the only way she knew she was having them was by looking at a monitor that was being used to measuring and timing them.

I wish I had something dramatic to share like an argument with a nurse or family member, but the truth is that things were surprisingly calm and quiet. I was surprisingly calm. There was nothing to do but wait. So that is what we did. Every  few hours the nurses would check her progress, and things were just not happening very quickly at all. They decided to give her more meds to speed things up, but that wasn't much help either; Anaya was going to come when she was good and ready.

The only thing out of the ordinary was the hospital helicopter bringing in a patient. Our window had an amazing view which included front row seats to the helicopter pad. When we heard that they were bringing in a patient we crowded around the window and we watched as the helicopter landed and they brought the patient into the hospital. I guess it's something you don't see everyday.

At around 6 in the afternoon, my wife noticed that she was beginning to feel the contractions more. They brought the medicine man (I'm tired of typing anesthesiologist) to do his thing and he suggested that they check her progress again. I got the impression that this particular nurse didn't like suggestions, but thankfully she relented.

I won't go into detail, but let's just say that she went from being about halfway ready to very ready from one check to another. After the final check, there was a rush of activity as the staff prepared to deliver our baby. Our doctor came in and they went through their pre-delivery routine. They have delivery kits and they sterilize and account for every tool and every piece of gauze that they use. Some say that they do that to make sure nothing gets left inside a patient during a procedure. I know that they do it to make sure they bill you for everything.

During this flurry of activity we told our doctor that I wanted to "catch" the baby. I was expecting some eye-rolling or something like that, but she was all business. "If that's what you want then let's get you scrubbed and into a gown."

I almost high-fived her when she told me I would get to wear a gown; I felt so official. I almost insisted that they refer to me as doctor, but I quickly realized that it could have legal ramifications, so I resisted the urge. Also, high-fiving a doctor is not proper protocol after they have prepared for a procedure. I scrubbed in and I got into my gown, gloves, and shoe protector things. We were not messing around. I had her tell me exactly what to do, and I basically made her swear that she was going to be right next to me the entire time.  

That is when she told me that if she had a choice between having me fall (passing out), or dropping the baby, she was going to let me go down. I wholeheartedly agreed with her wise medical decision.

While all of this is happening, my wife is in middle of hard labor. This was the most intense part of the day. There is so much going on, and so many people saying so many things that it is hard to take it all in. I came away with the feeling that there is nothing that can even compare to the birth of a child. It is so hard to describe.

We were watching our daughter be born. The days, weeks, and months of anticipation were coming to a dramatic close. She was right there. We could see her. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. I wanted to sit, and I wanted to run.

Then it was time for her to come.

It happened so fast.

I stood where I was supposed to stand. Her head came out, and I put my hands around it like the doctor told me to. I was so afraid, and yet I knew that I was doing something important. For those few fleeting moments everything went away and it was just the three of us. People were talking, moving, walking around the room, but I focused on bringing our baby into the world. I felt the doctor's hands around mine, guiding me and telling me what to do. I was so afraid to hurt the baby, but I had to push those feelings aside.

I had her in my hands for the first time. Delivering her was not what I expected. It goes beyond simply "catching" the baby on the way out. You have to guide the body as it comes through the birth canal. I had to fight my instinct to protect the baby from any form of discomfort. I couldn't think about blood, or anything like that. The doctor knew that I there was a possibility that I would pass out at the sight of blood, and she checked on me regularly. I was fine.

With the doctor's help I brought Anaya out to meet her mother and the rest of the world. Again, it happened so fast. Her head was in my hands, then I held on to her neck and bottom, and then I rested her on my wife's chest. It was so simple, yet so complicated at the same time.

My wife cried, our baby cried, the world rushed around us. Anaya cried like her life depended on it. Her cry went through my ears right to my heart.

She was on my wife, crying her little head off. I made my way to their side and I got close to her face, and I spoke to her like I had done while she was in the womb, "Hi Anaya, it's daddy."

For just a second her crying slowed down, and we had another indescribable moment. She knew my voice and it was like she was saying, "Hi Daddy, I'm here."

 I knew that loved her more than anything from the instant we knew she was coming, but in that fleeting moment I was hooked forever. She was mine and I was hers. There is no other way to say it.