Two Years Ago Today...

...the heavens opened and sent us a little devil of an angel. (Probably they were relieved to get him out of the big house before anything else got broken.)

I remember that my wife started contracting about 11 am, but we thought she was just having Braxton-Hicks-ish contractions. They kept up all afternoon, and by the time we headed to Target that evening around 6, she was having to concentrate on them as they passed. At that point we realized probably this was for real, but thought we had hours and hours to go. She sent me off to Baby's-R-Us to buy a piece of furniture with a 20% off coupon that was about to expire, and when I got home at 8:30, she let me know she just couldn't take it anymore. The contractions were becoming painful.

Reluctantly we decided we'd head to the hospital after calling some friends over to watch the other kids. We were both sure that the longer we were at the hospital before delivery, the more likely we'd end up with an intervention filled birth--exactly what we didn't want. We left about 9:30 pm, and when we got to the L&D unit about 10, it was a madhouse. I don't remember if there was a full moon, but that's the type of night they were having. When someone finally triaged us, I'm sure it was probably the 8 or 10th person she'd assessed, and she was a little bit cranky.

When the nurse assessed my wife's cervix, we were sure she'd be dilated to a 2 or so, and we'd have hours of waiting. Surprise, she was a 6 on the conservative side, probably further along than that judging from the look on the nurse's face and the speed with which we got a room. She got a line in (second try after blowing the garden hose in my wife's hand--sucks to put IV's in on a nurse, haha!) and started LR. The nurse trundled off to call our midwife. My wife was starting to panic, completely sure she wouldn't be able to bear the pain, and requested an epidural. Of course until the liter of LR bolused in, there would be no epidural.

And then her water broke.

Not that it mattered, there was no CRNA or anesthesiologist anywhere to be found--they were just as far in the weeds as the nurses.

It was less than an hour later that my wife told the nurse it was time to start pushing. The nurse asked that she wait for the midwife, to which my wife sweetly and politely replied that it was time to push, NOW.

The nurse checked her, and judging from the way she bolted to the door and bellowed for the midwife, my son must have been at about a +4 station. The midwife showed up within minutes and asked my wife to take a test push. Since he was crowning, they decided she was ready to push after all.

One push, and his head was delivered.

One more push, and his long body came splooshing after.

And in that moment, 11:20 pm, the world beyond the walls of that room ceased to exist. His small squishy, wrinkly form, that I had longed to see for 38 long weeks was right before me. That tiny little heart beating as fast as it could just to pump my overwhelming love through his veins pulsed under my fingertips as I touched his chest for the first time. The roaring in my ears had to have been the sound of my soul stretching and expanding exponentially to accommodate another being for which my love is boundless.

My beautiful wife was exhausted and had pretty extensive tearing from delivering him so quickly. The midwife was repairing her perineum, so I was standing guard over my son at the warmer while they assessed him.

8 lbs 13 oz, 21.5" long. And all boy.

Counting toes:


Three months:


Six months:


One year:


20 months:


The family:


Happy birthday son.

I love you.