Segue-"Naked, Covered With Blood And Screaming" or "Life On The Outside"

Dear Reader, There has been a gap of about twelve weeks since the last posted vignette. Let's just say I've been a little distracted; preoccupied, if you will. Not that this past quarter hasn't been without it's own daily stories. I will get on to telling those tales eventually. Until then they will be mulled over and made ferment in the tumblers of my heart and mind, eventually becoming a series of midnight vignettes. Soon the memories of those times will become all smooth, like stones from the river of life. One slight problem...the details and rough edges are what really happened and what make things interesting. The truth is you were born the way we live our lives: naked, covered with blood and screaming! This is your story. Life on the outside.

You were born on Thursday, August 20, 2009 at 10:32 p.m., weighing 8 lbs and 4 oz, being 20 and one half inches long. It was a remarkable day. Your mother was very ready for you to come. You were already a couple of days late. I had heard from some latino friends that spicy foods could trigger labor so we had Wendy's chili on Wednesday night. At 5 a.m. on the dot the next morning your mother's water broke. She harbored a fear that this would happen during a most inappropriate time such as at work or while we were sleeping. We had bought a mattress pad just in case it happened while we were sleeping. I don't know how we would have managed the situation if this had happened anywhere else but while we were sleeping. Your mom likes to tell people that she has never seen me get out of bed that fast before. She probably never will again.

If labor has two sides I saw both that day. Your mother looked absolutely beautiful. The contractions were manageable, meaning few and far between. We took our time getting ready. Siezing the opportunity that may never surface again, I asked her if she was sure that she didn't want a picture of her pregnant belly. It could be just for us I told her, and it turned out beautiful. In fact, we were proud to show it off to people. This was the pretty side of labor: giddiness on the way to the hospital with packed bags, birthing ball, and carseat secure in place. Hair and make-up done perfectly and wearing stylish albeit comfortable clothing. We listened to worship music during parts of your labor.
The other side of labor was not so pretty. Helplessness and pain from a rough patch of chemically enhanced contractions that just would not let up, but were not producing the much desired effect. An epidural that did not properly take. A second epidural administered between a series of hard contractions as she was sitting on the side of the bed. Coping. Breathing. Crying. After such great efforts, a C-section was the birthing method that was performed. The C-section was pretty neat in some ways. I was in the Operating Room next to your mother's head comforting her. The doctor asked me if I wanted to "see." "Sure", I said. I stood up and witnessed the whole thing up-close-and-personal. Note to other dads, don't worry about passing out if this happens to you. It was so fascinating that I told your mother that they could put me on the payroll at the hospital. Then they held you up and you cried. Your mother said it was the most beautiful cry.

When you were declared a girl we were thrilled! All during the pregnancy we just knew you were going to be a boy, but we are delighted that you are who you are. Before we left the hospital I tied a garish pink ribbon to the antennae of the car. It's still attatched and blowing in the wind freely. Your grandma brought two "coming home outfits." One for a boy, one for a girl. Although you are a girl, we will not be dressing you exclusively in pink. I quickly tell people that you look good in ALL COLORS! Ruffles and frills are not our style or yours, and neither are those ridiculous and impractical little dresses that certain people love, and that I love to hate. I also hate, Hate, HATE those headbands they place on little girl babies and will not permit them to be in your presence. Those things are for bald babies that don't look like little girls or boys.

The first thing I saw when you were born were those fingers. They were moving, clutching air as your arms waved wildly. Then were the toes, oh my, I've never seen such toes. Toes that resist shoes and socks almost as much as mine. Our Auntie says you are the only one she knows who can give the "peace sign" with their toes! It has been established by family members that you will be a piano-playing swimmer by virtue of the length of your fingers and toes, and by how much you like to kick.

After you were born (and we recovered) I made sure to spend lots of time playing with you, moving those little arms and legs; Making you "ride the bicicyle" and playing "Pat-a-cake." Nibbling on those little ears, fingers, and toes. I did this not only because it was fun and you were irresistable, but also to demonstrate that you weren't some delicate china doll. I had to show that you were a real live little person who needed lots of playing with. I needed to prove that you weren't going to crumble and break into a million pieces like some piece of glass. You needed touching to be stimulated and we needed to touch you to become confident that we could actually do this. The more relaxed and comfortable we became with you, the more relaxed and comfortable you were with us. All of this touchy-feelyness has been good, and we still haven't stopped.

I have learned how to take a good picture, thanks to you. I have taken more pictures the last twelve weeks than I have in the last twelve years. I even photographically preserved your first shot at the pediatricians office, tears and all! It seems like you learned pretty quick how to pose. Not just some dumb,stiff-looking "cheese" photo pose either. You have developed a knack for giving me expressions and natural poses.

Now it's time for the thank-you's. Thanks nurses in labor and delivery. We wouldn't know how to change a diaper without you! You all were wonderful. Except for the one that was stupid. Thanks OBGYBN. We are going to miss those appointments! Thanks lactation consultant. You are awesomely encouraging. To everyone in our childbirth and breastfeeding classes...let's have a reunion! Bring the babies!

Oh and for anyone who thinks that you have me trained and wrapped around your finger, or that you are spoiled already, I have a famous phrase that I keep repeating. "I don't believe in spoiling children. I only love and take good care of them. We never spoil them, because I dont believe in spoiling children!"

That was the whole ball of wax, in a nutshell. More daily midnight vignettes to come.