On the day he was born

Nathan turns 20 months old on Friday, and as the present clouds memories of yesterday, I regret more than ever my almost two-year delay in writing his birth story. I was so tired those first few months, and trying to make the best of a rushed maternity leave, and then coping with going back to work, and mothering a newborn and very young toddler besides. But now I have no excuse except that the details aren't as top of mind as they used to be, and I'm afraid that committing the day to "paper" will only reveal everything I don't remember. That problem will only get worse the longer I wait, though, so here is what I can tell you.

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Those of you reading at the time of Nathan's birth might remember that my c-section, originally scheduled for week 39, was moved up by six days due to my showing mild signs of pre-eclampsia. Surgery was moved up to 8 a.m. on Saturday, January 31, which meant he would share a birthday with my sister, Ryan. The day before I put in a half-day at work, sending frantic updates on active projects and cleaning my office of personal effects I thought I might need at home. There was dusting and vaccuming, upstairs and down, the cleaning of toilets, folding of clothes. Also a trip to Red Robin, a sort of last-ditch effort at a low-key Night Before, except it wasn't a low-key experience at all because they gave Luke the wrong burger. He didn't care too much, but I insisted on calling the manager, because hell hath no fury like a fully baked pregnant woman wronged. He promised to comp Luke's meal and actually voided the entire transaction, which we learned a couple weeks later when reading our bank statement. And I didn't even have to cry.

Luke's parents arrived shortly after dinner, primed for Kara duty for the length of my hospital stay. Bedtime went smoothly. I puttered around in Nathan's room arranging onesies and blankets. I blogged. Sometime after midnight, I finally went to sleep.

Luke and I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to start getting ready for the hospital. I showered and shaved my legs, fiddled with my hair. Kara woke up at 6:00, so I was able to hang out with her a little bit before we left. And surprisingly, I wasn't nervous about leaving her anymore. She and Luke's parents get along famously, and Luke was going to be alternating between home and St. Vincent's so as not to completely abandon her routine. It was going to be okay.

We left the house by 6:15 and made it to check-in around seven.

 

Primping for my date with the scalpel.

There are a few details I can recall about being prepped for surgery: the first nurse's botched attempt to insert my IV, watching cartoons with Luke while waiting for my obstetrician, getting updates from Molly en route to Indianapolis. Once in the OR, I learned that my anesthesiologist was acquainted with my employer's CEO. The spinal was administered without any problems; a tight pinch at the beginning, but otherwise so much quicker than the epidural. Once it was fully working, in went the catheter.

The most important thing I remember is my sense of calm. I was finally ready for Nathan to be born. Good thing, too, because sometime around eight, the procedure began.

Due to my pre-eclampsia symptoms, they didn't waste much time cutting right to the chase (no pun intended). At 8:39 a.m., out came Nathan, screaming at the top of his lungs, giving us a small taste of what was to come. He weighed 9 lb 5 oz and measured 22 1/4 inches long. At 38 weeks! Let's not even think about what those numbers could have been at 40.

Surgery was uneventful, thankfully, just like last time, as was the pressure in my chest when they pulled him out. I remember cracking jokes behind the curtain, making the doctor and the nurses laugh, so happy that this moment was finally here, and that we were getting to meet our son. 

He wowed the hospital staff with his impressive lung capacity, as well as his handsome little face, but soon he settled down and humbled himself to the flash of Luke's camera.

 

Post wailing.

Luke and I tossed around several names throughout my pregnancy - Liam, Peter, Toby, Benjamin, Alex - but Nathan Byron is the name we had ready for Kara had she been gifted boy parts, and it still remained our favorite, so Nathan Byron it was. Nathan because we liked it, Byron for Luke's middle name, in memory of his late grandfather on his mother's side. We figured we could call him Nate for short, but not once have we done that so far (though family members have). Just Nathan, or Buddy, or BooBoo, or Little Boobah. (Don't ask about that last one. We don't know, either.)

 

Unlike his sister, Nathan was able to wear more than one newborn diaper.

One of the main reasons Luke and I loved our hospital so much (aside from the private rooms and 24-hour room service) is that the staff considers "mommy and me" time to be top priority, so minutes after I was properly stitched up, Luke was placing Nathan in my arms. He felt so warm, and compared to Kara, so tiny. Words can't describe how much it meant to have him there, another tangible product of my relationship with Luke. I was so in love, with both of them, and Kara, too - my family in its own infancy, shiny and perfect and new.

 

I snuggled him close as they wheeled me into recovery, where Molly was waiting for us. She held her godson for the first time while Luke made phone calls, and then it was time to nurse. He latched on easily and fed for a bit on both sides. Afterwards, it was snuggle time, his face resting on my chest, my hands running over his back, my mind at peace. Feeling exhausted but oh so happy, enjoying my perfect little piece of the universe.

I remember looking up at Molly and saying, "Now I know why some mothers have eight children. I could see myself having ten just to relive this feeling."

 

Nathan and Molly, who, based on her expression, appears fully on board with this plan.

An hour and a half after surgery, I was brought into my room. I remember struggling to stay awake and scratching at my arms and legs constantly, the itching a side effect of the spinal. Luke held Nathan while Molly updated the Internet and I drifted in and out of sleep. I briefly called my boss, and others, too, I'm sure, but I don't remember anyone else. I was starving but wouldn't be allowed to eat anything solid for several more hours. Thankfully, the catheter was still in, so I didn't have to worry about getting up to pee.

By mid-afternoon, Molly was on her way back home to snuggle her own baby and Luke was off to have dinner and bedtime with Kara, leaving Nathan and me to our own devices in the hospital. It was pretty uneventful. I was still so tired, and scratching everywhere, and my butt was sore from lying in bed all day. In the early evening, Samantha, Dan, and Danny Jr. showed up from Chicago to meet their first nephew and visit with me in all my incoherent glory. They were my only relatives to make the trip to Indy, and I was so, so grateful they were there.

 

Auntie Samantha loving on her nephew.

Late that evening, Luke came back. At one point I devoured a glorious postpartum dinner of a roast beef sandwich, vanilla shake, and lime sherbet. I always load up on the sandwiches whenever at that hospital - they could easily stack up against any deli in town. And okay, I drank two shakes, not one, but hey, twelve hours of nothing but liquids = PRIMAL HUNGER.

The following day brought a lot less itching and a few more visitors. Luke's parents, Kara in tow, Luke's brother. They all came together and didn't stay terribly long, but it was so good to see my little girl, and it strengthened my resolve to leave the hospital on day three, to get back to my life. She didn't show much interest in Nathan, or even me, for that matter; she kept running back to Grandma and Grandpa, which was just fine, because I kept worrying about her accidentally kicking my incision.

 

Nathan with Daddy and Grandma D.

That day also brought the removal of my catheter, at which point I was charged with the monumental task of emptying my own bladder. It was hugely difficult after Kara, and not accomplished without many tears, but R.N. Susan-Marie gave me a fantastic tip that moved things along much more efficiently and with a lot less pain: get a glass of water and blow bubbles into it with a straw while you're pushing; this gives you something tangible to focus on. That was my biggest problem last time - my body was so out of touch with the act of bearing down that I had no idea how to direct my efforts. Genius!

I can't stress enough how wonderful my hospital stay was this time around. Nathan fed, pooped, and slept with no problems, I ate to my heart's content, and Luke and I received an adequate amount of rest, even sending Nathan to the nursery once for a good four hours so we could get sleep with no interruptions. There were no jagged breakdowns over nursing, no feeling like a bumbling idiot in the hours before we came home. There were no looming doubts over how the hell am I going to do this?

 

Luke and Nathan scoring some father-son time before our release from the hospital.

There were several major obstacles we faced in those first few weeks home: slow weight gain (Nathan's, unfortunately, not mine), nursing and bottle-feeding troubles, constant spit-up, ear-piercing crying, and through it all, nobody nearby to help us. But I love thinking about those first few days when the world felt paused on its axis, and all that mattered was enjoying my new family.

 

Party of four in the hizzouse!

I think the reason I put off writing Nathan's story for so long is the lack of drama surrounding his birth. Kara's story was fraught with suspense at every turn - Will my cervix fully dilate? Drugs or no drugs? Will the baby ever drop? - and I knew readers would get a kick out of the minute-by-minute play-by-play. With Nathan, though, I had all those questions answered before the second trimester by taking them off the table. Water breaking, dilation and effacement, pain relief, pushing, episiotomy or natural tear. Deciding on a c-section eliminated most of the unpredictability. The pre-eclampsia threw a wrench in our plans, sure, but only in regards to time frame. (And thank God for that.) The execution remained unchanged.

But whatever Nathan's birth lacked in story-telling potential was made up for in spades with peace and love and joy. I can more than live with that.

 

It took two years for you to write all THAT? Geez, Mom, you are so lame. Also, so is your cell phone. Pony up and get a Droid already.

Comments

[Parsing Nonsense]

Wow, what a remarkable difference in your two births! I'm so glad you felt such peace with Nathan's birth, it probably made a nice transition to the scream-fest that ensued, yes?

[Bren]

Great birth story! I missed the birth of my second baby - emergency c-section - so it's wonderful that you have the memories!

[rkmama]

Thanks for sharing this! I can't believe how big all of our kids are getting- That tiny little Kara from the hospital pictures is making me weepy!

[Heidi]

I'm sure you will be glad that you wrote this, even two years after the fact. Better late than never!

Also, I'm glad you're back to writing regularly. I enjoy your humor. :)

[Jen L.]

I loved reading about Nathan's grand entrance. It's nice to hear a low-key, uneventful birth story! He is a super cutie. Also? I'm afraid he might have been bigger than Kara (gasp!) if they'd let him cook all the way. I'm still mad impressed that your tiny self produced two such sizable babies. They are both beautiful.

And for what it's worth, it took me two years to write Dean's birth story, too, so don't feel bad.

[daddyd]

Love that story. Also, the family of four picture is just super.

[Parker_B]

Such a great post. I just love birth stories, and you did Nathan's justice!

[Grandma Molly]

I loved reading this, looking at the pictures, and remembering the birth of our sweet grandson.

[Jenny]

Love reading you! Thanks for the story of Nathan! Great to see you last week too!