Fatherhood, part 3

N. was born on December 4th, 2016. It was amazing. Bewildering, a bit surreal, and totally awesome. Despite all the reading, and being right there for most of the pregnancy, it still is a bit crazy to me that a living being pops out of a woman. Seriously, I'm guessing it's something that men will really never understand. Livia found my statements about this kind of weird or odd, but I even commented to her that night that I had trouble believing that he was inside of her just hours before.

I don't like when people say you have to experience something to know what it's like. I know it's true, but I think it's a bit conceited, and inconsiderate of the many opportunities that so many people will never have. Yet obviously the birth of one's first child is one of those things. Because of the way things went, there were some big ups and downs.

One of the reasons that Livia and I decided to have N. in Iowa (or rather, the U.S.A.) was because she wanted to avoid a c-section. C-sections are super common in Latin America, including Ecuador. In Ecuador it is essentially the default way women give birth. It is certainly easier for hospital schedules and doctor's schedules-and they can bill the state health care system more. But, Livia was hoping to have a vaginal birth if possible. Additionally, episiotomies are much more common in Ecuador than in the States. While they seem to be fairly safe and not uncommon, it's not something you're exciting about having.

In the end, Livia had a c-section, after 14 hours of labor, so that did make the experience a bit difficult. She had worked so hard, and really had pushed incredibly well, for a long time, and then to have to have the surgery that you had been trying to avoid-which also makes it so you don't get to enjoy the first 30 minutes or so with your baby-that did play with our emotions. Especially because during the pushing phase, her adrenaline was going crazy, mine was too, I'm holding her legs, her arms, counting, cheering, so we are both super energized, pumped up. Then she gets wheeled down to the surgery prep, I just sat in this little waiting are, with the scrubs on, waiting for them to let me in to be there during the surgery. So, the adrenaline slowly goes away...but then when I heard N. cry and then popped up and walked to the tub where the nurse placed him at but 15 or 20 seconds old, it came back. I think I was mostly just thinking, "ok, here we go, time for a never-ending adventure." Once they told me he looked great and healthy, I was super happy. I took him over so Livia could get a look at him. She was still on the operating table with her arms strapped down, as of course they were still stitching her up. She was also really cold, I think the anesthesia plus her adrenaline/hormones all out of wack had her shivering.

And man, N. was little. Well, he was 7 pounds 3 ounces, and 19.5 inches long. So Just a shade smaller than the average baby. The thing is, though, all the images you see of babies in movies, commercials, videos, etc., are of babies at least three if not six months old. I didn't really know that until I commented about how tiny he was, and I think my mom or someone told me that. I think newborn diaper ads should have newborn babies on them, call me crazy. He was so small though, just absolutely tiny. I got over it quickly, but initially I did feel like I was going to break him. He was adorable though, lots of hair, big brown eyes, and he looked exactly like I did when I was a baby (that is apparently an evolutionary trait to help fathers identify children in less monogamous cultures).

So, in case I haven't told you yet, this is how it went. On Saturday, Livia was having frequent contractions, not exactly the 5-1-1 they tell you to wait for, but super close. So we headed out to the hospital with my mom. They hooked Livia up, and monitored her for about two hours, but she was not having frequent or strong enough contractions to warrant her staying, or for them to use the medicine they use to help the contractions along. So we headed home.

That night, at two in the morning Livia comes into the room, turns on the light and tells me to get up. I hate myself to say so, but I first said, "are you sure?" "might it just be like yesterday?" She then repeated that yes she was sure, and that she thought her water had broken. She had a plastic cup with some of the liquid in it. I quickly googled what water breaking and the liquid was like, it seemed to all match. So I got dressed, we grabbed the two hospital bags, and headed to the hospital. It's a fairly small hospital, with a small maternity section (12 rooms). Thus, perhaps the ER attendant doesn't get much action, because he was super excited, full of energy, and incredibly helpful when I pulled up and helped Livia out of the car. He got her in a wheelchair and up to the room in seconds.

My parents came by around 6:30 or 7:00 in the morning, and the labor progressed along. Livia walked around a lot, with the hopes that the baby would lower and that she'd dilate faster. She took maybe two naps, usually right after they added a bit more pain medicine to her IV. She received the drug that helps the contractions go faster, and things did proceed quickly after that. She tried all sorts of positions in the last hour or two before it was time to push. Initially, things looked great. She nor I can remember exactly how far and in how much time she progressed, but I think N. was about halfway out in less than 30 minutes of pushing. This is because I remember the doctor and nurse saying they both thought we'd have a baby in less than half an hour. And then he got stuck.

As they later explained, as he was coming down, his head was either already turned, or turned. So, instead of the center/top of his head coming through first, the side of his head was coming through the opening. This meant it was a much larger circumference trying to get through the pelvic opening. It didn't fit. Obviously they couldn't realize this at first, because just a tiny bit of hair is poking through (N. was born with a full head of dark brown hair). But, in the second hour of pushing, minimal progress was made. Because of the early good progress, the nurse was encouraging Livia to push harder and harder, as normally it requires those huge pushes to get the baby out. The doctor was very professional, possibly a bit too emotionless and detached, but looking back, I'm glad that he was. At one hour and forty five minutes of pushing, he said we could push for 15 more minutes, but if it didn't get to a certain level, we'd have to do a c-section. He said he doesn't like for women to push more than two hours. He also stated, which was helpful, that he isn't against the vacuum assistance or forceps assistance for birth, and that his daughter was born via the vacuum method, but that N. was not far enough out to do that. So Livia pushed, but he was stuck.

But, the surgery went great (well, it was an entire ordeal for them to give Livia the anesthesia because she was still having contractions and shivering. But, I was in the waiting area, so just heard the screams and cries. But, surgery was quick, no complications, Livia recovered considerably faster than usual, and we have a beautiful, healthy, relaxed, cute baby boy.

Advice for the man on birth day: completely support your wife. Don't even think about telling her how out of control she's acting, or that your skin is peeling off your neck because she's grabbed your shirt collar so hard. She said and did things that were completely unlike her, and I just let them slide (or did my best). By the next morning she was totally back to herself, and when I told her some of the things she said she just laughed and apologized. I think that's the most important thing, just do whatever she says. Having my parents there was super helpful, they could run and get food or something we'd left at the house. Also, having my mom in the room was a bit awkward at times, but overall really helpful. Because sometimes I needed to go to the restroom, or call my brother/sister, or get something to drink. So it was nice to have my mom there to talk with Livia and help her if she needed something. Having the bags packed in advance was nice. Also, at least at Iowa Methodist West, they don't tell your family that the baby was born, surgery went fine, etc. So we were both back in the room, in complete awe, just staring at and holding and kissing N. I called my brother and sister to let them know, Livia sent voice messages to her mom and sisters. At some point we wondered what my parents were doing, why they weren't in the room. So I sent my dad a message. They were five rooms away in the waiting room, but I guess the nurses aren't allowed to tell them anything (HIPPA probably) so all they said was "a baby was born." So, I guess get that figured out if it turns into a c-section. There may have been 20 more pieces of advice I would've given had I written this in December, but honestly, just do what your wife/partner says and don't make any comments and it'll go smoothly.