The other day, M and J were out playing in the back yard when M ran over to J to give him a big hug.
"Ewwww!" yelled J, running to S with his arms outstretched.
J's arm was covered with boogers. Apparently, M had a very runny nose at the time.
Boys are awesome.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Baby 3 is here!
On June 17, 2009, baby 3 was born. We'll call him A.
With M and J, I missed out on the traditional birth experience. They were born four weeks early, and by c-section, so they were born in an operating room. I was sitting by S's head, but shielded from the blessed event by a plastic screen. I was only permitted to stand and see when each baby was already out and crying on his mommy's tummy. I remember those images vividly, but those moments and memories have always felt distant. Thankfully, the magic occurred a few moments later when they were brought to me, wrapped in blankets and placed in my arm. To do this day, I tell M and J when I read them their bedtime stories that I always place M in my left arm and J in my right because that is the way I held them the very first time.
They'll get sick of hearing that in a few years, but I don't care. Their father is a mush-ball, and they need to come to grips with that.
With A, the experience was totally different. First, S was late, uncomfortably so. Thankfully, A seemed to be very healthy, so there was no real cause for concern other than S's previous c-section. Second, we were at a smaller, more quiet, more peaceful hospital. Finally, we were hoping that A's birth would be "normal," so there was less of a sense of urgency.
In fact, I was shocked by the lack of urgency, even though S was induced. Don't get me wrong, people paid attention to us, but we often went an hour or two without seeing anyone. I now know that this was very normal, and that help was always a few steps away. I was just surprised a doctor wasn't in the room, monitoring the situation every moment! I think that explains a lot about my knowledge of these things. So, we walked laps in the hallways, tried different positions for S to labor in, and generally tried to pass the time as she grew more and more uncomfortable. Around noon - she'd been induced at 6:00 a.m. - she was not progressing much yet was in a lot of pain, and opted for an epidural. And I'm very glad that she did.
Needless to say, she was able to relax. In fact, she even slept for a bit. About an hour later, maybe a little more, she was ready to push - to deliver our son. That part only took her another 35 minutes.
I cannot easily describe watching A be born. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, and felt unreal. On the one hand, here I was in an ordinary room next to my wife, while just inches away, in the harsh spot-light the doctor was using, a strange, almost unrecognizable object was emerging. And then, seemingly in an instant, that object turned into the head, torso, and arms of my son, who seemed to be reaching for S just as she reached down to help bring him into the world and pull him to her chest.
And there he was, my little A.
With M and J, I missed out on the traditional birth experience. They were born four weeks early, and by c-section, so they were born in an operating room. I was sitting by S's head, but shielded from the blessed event by a plastic screen. I was only permitted to stand and see when each baby was already out and crying on his mommy's tummy. I remember those images vividly, but those moments and memories have always felt distant. Thankfully, the magic occurred a few moments later when they were brought to me, wrapped in blankets and placed in my arm. To do this day, I tell M and J when I read them their bedtime stories that I always place M in my left arm and J in my right because that is the way I held them the very first time.
They'll get sick of hearing that in a few years, but I don't care. Their father is a mush-ball, and they need to come to grips with that.
With A, the experience was totally different. First, S was late, uncomfortably so. Thankfully, A seemed to be very healthy, so there was no real cause for concern other than S's previous c-section. Second, we were at a smaller, more quiet, more peaceful hospital. Finally, we were hoping that A's birth would be "normal," so there was less of a sense of urgency.
In fact, I was shocked by the lack of urgency, even though S was induced. Don't get me wrong, people paid attention to us, but we often went an hour or two without seeing anyone. I now know that this was very normal, and that help was always a few steps away. I was just surprised a doctor wasn't in the room, monitoring the situation every moment! I think that explains a lot about my knowledge of these things. So, we walked laps in the hallways, tried different positions for S to labor in, and generally tried to pass the time as she grew more and more uncomfortable. Around noon - she'd been induced at 6:00 a.m. - she was not progressing much yet was in a lot of pain, and opted for an epidural. And I'm very glad that she did.
Needless to say, she was able to relax. In fact, she even slept for a bit. About an hour later, maybe a little more, she was ready to push - to deliver our son. That part only took her another 35 minutes.
I cannot easily describe watching A be born. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before, and felt unreal. On the one hand, here I was in an ordinary room next to my wife, while just inches away, in the harsh spot-light the doctor was using, a strange, almost unrecognizable object was emerging. And then, seemingly in an instant, that object turned into the head, torso, and arms of my son, who seemed to be reaching for S just as she reached down to help bring him into the world and pull him to her chest.
And there he was, my little A.
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