The Wonderful, Harrowing, Joyful, Upsetting, Amazingly Special Story of Oliver's Birth
Our baby, little Oliver, was born at 8:19 p.m. on November 2nd. His birth weight was 6 pounds, 14 ounces. He's a miracle, and we love him. We both cried when when we finally held him. Which we did for like, 3 or 4 minutes, before he was wheeled off to the nursery...
Two Beauties: Maria and Oliver.
Let me start at the beginning here.
We were brought in on Tuesday night to begin the process of getting Maria's body ready for labor. We weren't set to induce until the next day, just take a couple of drugs and get her body ready. After two different medications and 18 hours of prep time, though, nothing had changed. Her body was staying the same; the medication wasn't taking effect. So they sent us home.
We live almost an hour away from the hospital. About 45-55 minutes away, really, depending on traffic conditions. It is for this reason that going home was a mistake.
See, Maria started having contractions right before we arrived home. At first they were about 7 minutes apart. Within an hour, they were intensely painful for her, and she was having them 2 minutes apart.
We rushed back to the hospital, but she was in so much pain that she had to do it lying down. Which meant traveling in her stepdad's van. Which meant that, since all of our hospital supplies were still in my car (along with the installed carseat), I had to drive separately from her. Which, as you might expect, totally freaked me out.
It was raining as we zoomed to the hospital, and I do mean "zoomed." Before we knew it, Maria's contractions were 30 seconds apart, and her stepdad was driving 105 miles per hour. I had my flashers on and was desperately trying to keep up with them - I've never driven so fast in my life. I repeatedly called her mom for updates, asking how Maria was doing.
Oliver thinks that driving should really be for relaxing.
We arrived at the hospital with Maria still in painful labor. Her mom went inside and got Maria into a wheelchair, and we got up to the maternity ward. Once there, things only kept being crazy. They had to get some fluids into Maria before they could give her an epidural, but with all the blood rushing to her uterus, her veins had shrunk and they had trouble getting in the IV. They had to call in an IV Specialist, and then, once she had enough fluid, they called in the anesthesiologist. By this point, Maria was in crying pain - yelling out "Please, god!" as she had each contraction, and *I* was even crying like a baby just watching the love of my life in such agony. The anesthesiologist had trouble getting to Maria's spine, though - we think she was accidentally hitting the microfractures in Maria's lower back. She opted to change up to a ridiculously stupid-big needle and doing a direct spinal block. This, thankfully, gave Maria some pain relief... for a while.
It wasn't long before Maria was asked to starting pushing - a process that would go on for a couple of hours. She pushed so hard that her face went bright red (and she earned some compliments on her pushing prowess from the hospital staff). On two occasions, Oliver's heart rate dropped suddenly to 1/3 of what it was supposed to be. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room to put Maria on her side, bend her body around, and get Ollie back to a safe heartrate. It soon became clear that he was transverse - meaning that he wasn't going to be able to come out because he was sideways. So, in order to avoid a c-section, they called in a specialist with forceps.
They told us in advance that when this guy retires, they're going to do a lot more c-sections because he's one of the last of his kind. And he was damn good at it. He had to cycle through a few types of forceps to get a grip on Oliver, but he finally got his little head and turned him into the right position. And then he was pulling with the forceps at the same time that Maria was pushing. Unfortunately, it was around now that Maria's spinal anesthesia was decidedly wearing off. Although she was having SOME pain relief, it wasn't much at all anymore. The last few pushes would be big and painful, but finally, the team of 10 people in the delivery room got Oliver into our world.
He came out purpleish, though, and he was silent. They quickly grabbed him away and put him into a side incubator/bassinet while a pediatrician and three nurses worked on him. They said he was breathing at least, but was really, really clogged. They had to put a tube down his throat to suck out the mucus blocking his passageways - all while Maria couldn't even see him because nurses were blocking her view! Finally, he cried out, and Maria shed tears of joy. When he turned red, they gave him over to us for a few minutes of relief and bliss.
Oliver was wheeled off to the nursery soon after. He was still hyperventilating - it was a stressful birth, after all. I followed him into the nursery, putting a hand on his chest and feeling overjoyed that he'd made it into the world. He cried a lot as they took blood from his foot, measuring his blood pressure with a tiny baby arm pump, and did other tests. I stayed beside him for a good half-hour before returning to check on Maria.
It was about 10-12 hours before Ollie finally slowed his breathing, and about 18 hours before we were allowed to have him join us in our hospital room. God, we missed him during that time. Ever since his birth, Maria's been in a lot of pain that's slowly been reducing. She's had some sharp pains and spasms in her right leg - possibly from how they made her bend her legs during labor, or possibly from the spinal, or possibly some third option we haven't figured out. But she's an absolute champ with Ollie. Oliver calms down a lot when he's in mommy's arms. He obviously knows her better than anybody. Roughly 36 hours after his birth, it seemed like he was healthy, happy and normal-looking. His initial "conehead" was gone, and even the bruises and swelling from the forceps had healed. The only problem was that we weren't getting any sleep! Why the hell do doctors and nurses keep telling you how important it is for you to sleep, and then interrupt you every 45 minutes? Do you really NEED to talk to us at 1:30 in the morning followed by 2:15 followed by 3, etc? (To be fair, sometimes it was every 30 minutes instead. What a bunch of assholes.)
We went home from the hospital around 4 p.m. on Friday, November 4th. Oliver's been a challenge, but a beautiful one. He's developing his own little personality. He gets a lot more sleep than both of us - my wife especially. Maria, for her part, has gone out of her way to make sure I'm well-rested for my return to work. But all I and her mom (who's staying in town for a few days) really want is for Maria to get some rest herself. It's hard, given that she's tied to Oliver's every-three-hour feeding schedule. But I hope it happens soon.
Watching Maria with Oliver, seeing how bravely she'd handled the task of his birth and the challenge of taking care of him - it only makes me love her even more. She's amazing. And if Maria is the first great love of my life, Oliver has to be the second. He's so small, so fascinating, so sweet and cute, so... miraculous. Everywhere I go now, I think I smell him. My bath towel? He never touched it, but it smells like his skin. The soap at work? That smells like his baby wipes. The exhaust blast off of a truck? It stinks like his poop.
He'll never fully understand how much we love him.
I have a beautiful family. I'm so, so lucky that Maria and Oliver are healthy. I love you guys so unbelievably much.
Two Beauties: Maria and Oliver.
Let me start at the beginning here.
We were brought in on Tuesday night to begin the process of getting Maria's body ready for labor. We weren't set to induce until the next day, just take a couple of drugs and get her body ready. After two different medications and 18 hours of prep time, though, nothing had changed. Her body was staying the same; the medication wasn't taking effect. So they sent us home.
We live almost an hour away from the hospital. About 45-55 minutes away, really, depending on traffic conditions. It is for this reason that going home was a mistake.
See, Maria started having contractions right before we arrived home. At first they were about 7 minutes apart. Within an hour, they were intensely painful for her, and she was having them 2 minutes apart.
We rushed back to the hospital, but she was in so much pain that she had to do it lying down. Which meant traveling in her stepdad's van. Which meant that, since all of our hospital supplies were still in my car (along with the installed carseat), I had to drive separately from her. Which, as you might expect, totally freaked me out.
It was raining as we zoomed to the hospital, and I do mean "zoomed." Before we knew it, Maria's contractions were 30 seconds apart, and her stepdad was driving 105 miles per hour. I had my flashers on and was desperately trying to keep up with them - I've never driven so fast in my life. I repeatedly called her mom for updates, asking how Maria was doing.
Oliver thinks that driving should really be for relaxing.
We arrived at the hospital with Maria still in painful labor. Her mom went inside and got Maria into a wheelchair, and we got up to the maternity ward. Once there, things only kept being crazy. They had to get some fluids into Maria before they could give her an epidural, but with all the blood rushing to her uterus, her veins had shrunk and they had trouble getting in the IV. They had to call in an IV Specialist, and then, once she had enough fluid, they called in the anesthesiologist. By this point, Maria was in crying pain - yelling out "Please, god!" as she had each contraction, and *I* was even crying like a baby just watching the love of my life in such agony. The anesthesiologist had trouble getting to Maria's spine, though - we think she was accidentally hitting the microfractures in Maria's lower back. She opted to change up to a ridiculously stupid-big needle and doing a direct spinal block. This, thankfully, gave Maria some pain relief... for a while.
It wasn't long before Maria was asked to starting pushing - a process that would go on for a couple of hours. She pushed so hard that her face went bright red (and she earned some compliments on her pushing prowess from the hospital staff). On two occasions, Oliver's heart rate dropped suddenly to 1/3 of what it was supposed to be. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room to put Maria on her side, bend her body around, and get Ollie back to a safe heartrate. It soon became clear that he was transverse - meaning that he wasn't going to be able to come out because he was sideways. So, in order to avoid a c-section, they called in a specialist with forceps.
They told us in advance that when this guy retires, they're going to do a lot more c-sections because he's one of the last of his kind. And he was damn good at it. He had to cycle through a few types of forceps to get a grip on Oliver, but he finally got his little head and turned him into the right position. And then he was pulling with the forceps at the same time that Maria was pushing. Unfortunately, it was around now that Maria's spinal anesthesia was decidedly wearing off. Although she was having SOME pain relief, it wasn't much at all anymore. The last few pushes would be big and painful, but finally, the team of 10 people in the delivery room got Oliver into our world.
He came out purpleish, though, and he was silent. They quickly grabbed him away and put him into a side incubator/bassinet while a pediatrician and three nurses worked on him. They said he was breathing at least, but was really, really clogged. They had to put a tube down his throat to suck out the mucus blocking his passageways - all while Maria couldn't even see him because nurses were blocking her view! Finally, he cried out, and Maria shed tears of joy. When he turned red, they gave him over to us for a few minutes of relief and bliss.
Oliver was wheeled off to the nursery soon after. He was still hyperventilating - it was a stressful birth, after all. I followed him into the nursery, putting a hand on his chest and feeling overjoyed that he'd made it into the world. He cried a lot as they took blood from his foot, measuring his blood pressure with a tiny baby arm pump, and did other tests. I stayed beside him for a good half-hour before returning to check on Maria.
It was about 10-12 hours before Ollie finally slowed his breathing, and about 18 hours before we were allowed to have him join us in our hospital room. God, we missed him during that time. Ever since his birth, Maria's been in a lot of pain that's slowly been reducing. She's had some sharp pains and spasms in her right leg - possibly from how they made her bend her legs during labor, or possibly from the spinal, or possibly some third option we haven't figured out. But she's an absolute champ with Ollie. Oliver calms down a lot when he's in mommy's arms. He obviously knows her better than anybody. Roughly 36 hours after his birth, it seemed like he was healthy, happy and normal-looking. His initial "conehead" was gone, and even the bruises and swelling from the forceps had healed. The only problem was that we weren't getting any sleep! Why the hell do doctors and nurses keep telling you how important it is for you to sleep, and then interrupt you every 45 minutes? Do you really NEED to talk to us at 1:30 in the morning followed by 2:15 followed by 3, etc? (To be fair, sometimes it was every 30 minutes instead. What a bunch of assholes.)
We went home from the hospital around 4 p.m. on Friday, November 4th. Oliver's been a challenge, but a beautiful one. He's developing his own little personality. He gets a lot more sleep than both of us - my wife especially. Maria, for her part, has gone out of her way to make sure I'm well-rested for my return to work. But all I and her mom (who's staying in town for a few days) really want is for Maria to get some rest herself. It's hard, given that she's tied to Oliver's every-three-hour feeding schedule. But I hope it happens soon.
Watching Maria with Oliver, seeing how bravely she'd handled the task of his birth and the challenge of taking care of him - it only makes me love her even more. She's amazing. And if Maria is the first great love of my life, Oliver has to be the second. He's so small, so fascinating, so sweet and cute, so... miraculous. Everywhere I go now, I think I smell him. My bath towel? He never touched it, but it smells like his skin. The soap at work? That smells like his baby wipes. The exhaust blast off of a truck? It stinks like his poop.
He'll never fully understand how much we love him.
I have a beautiful family. I'm so, so lucky that Maria and Oliver are healthy. I love you guys so unbelievably much.