I Am a Father
Further to one of my previous experiences: I'm now a father, to a *human* for a change. My daughter was born healthy and safe last fall, a little early, but not premature.
It started when my wife tried to wake me. It was 1:30am and I had to work in the morning (or so I thought). She was trying to tell me that her water broke, but I said "I forgot" and went back to sleep. She didn't leave it at that, and pretty soon I'm calling the midwife. Circumstances dictate that we went to the hospital, and not the home birth we wanted, which, you will soon see, was a very good thing. I ask the midwife for how long I should prepare to be at the hospital and she says "at least 48 hours". It doesn't sink in, so I don't even pack things that I'm going to need that night.
So, we go to the hospital, the midwife enters a different entrance, we get lost trying to find the unit we're looking for, no thanks to the signage and the blow off from the unhelpful staff! But we find the room where we're going, the midwife takes over, and I go to sleep.
A few hours later, I wake up to the sound of a baby heart monitor, but the sound is more reminiscent of a galloping horse. Now considering my wife's age, for the last several months, I've been concerned about Down Syndrome, and I know that Down babies are harder to recognize than the more mature patients. So, I find a moment to catch the midwife alone, so I can tell her that I'm going to want to discreetly know the score.
Things are not going completely smoothly. Every time my wife contracts, the baby's heart rate drops. At one point, the midwife sees something that looks critical and hits the alarm. Well before 10 seconds is up, the doorway is clogged w/hospital personnel, but the midwife back-pedals over her snap decision. Good to see they are on their toes. The obstetrician comes in, doesn't really like what he sees, but gives us the option of waiting an hour to see how things develop. Well, in much less time than that, the baby's heart rate hits a critically mass of slowness, and there's no question: my wife gets rushed into surgery.
I suit up, find where I'm supposed to be going and in just a few minutes, my wife is open and the baby is out. Now, I was fully expecting a girl, but when I saw her, from behind... well... what I was looking at isn't what I was expecting. So I thought, "a boy???" One or two seconds later, the obstetrician gives me "it's a girl".
Taking too many minutes than my wife would like, they weigh the baby, check her heart rate, tie a transmitter onto her that puts the whole hospital on lock-down if it's brought over these red dots near exits! they present us our daughter.
Later, we're moved to a recovery room, and I try to find cell and wi-fi signals to inform my family and my wife's (the latter being in Latin America, behind a rock-solid language barrier). My choice of words is untoward, and I let my mother believe that someone had died when I conclude the anecdote with "so it's all over". I don't remember whether it was before or after that that I was about to get a nod from the midwife about Down Syndrome, but I was mostly unconcerned at that point.
A few days later, baby's weight is finally on the rise, although my wife is not producing enough milk to cause that, and they let us go home, were I finally get to see my shower, cats, TV and everything. Anyone we pass by (some of whom don't have an axe to grind) tell us how staggeringly cute she is.
So, that's it: I'm a father (to a human). For some insight into how I feel about that, you might look at my story about not being ready for that. I don't feel very different about that on this side of the birth. I do love this little girl, and will do my duty by her, and what will happen to her now? Well, whatever it is, it'll be something that I couldn't prepare for or didn't know to prepare for.
It started when my wife tried to wake me. It was 1:30am and I had to work in the morning (or so I thought). She was trying to tell me that her water broke, but I said "I forgot" and went back to sleep. She didn't leave it at that, and pretty soon I'm calling the midwife. Circumstances dictate that we went to the hospital, and not the home birth we wanted, which, you will soon see, was a very good thing. I ask the midwife for how long I should prepare to be at the hospital and she says "at least 48 hours". It doesn't sink in, so I don't even pack things that I'm going to need that night.
So, we go to the hospital, the midwife enters a different entrance, we get lost trying to find the unit we're looking for, no thanks to the signage and the blow off from the unhelpful staff! But we find the room where we're going, the midwife takes over, and I go to sleep.
A few hours later, I wake up to the sound of a baby heart monitor, but the sound is more reminiscent of a galloping horse. Now considering my wife's age, for the last several months, I've been concerned about Down Syndrome, and I know that Down babies are harder to recognize than the more mature patients. So, I find a moment to catch the midwife alone, so I can tell her that I'm going to want to discreetly know the score.
Things are not going completely smoothly. Every time my wife contracts, the baby's heart rate drops. At one point, the midwife sees something that looks critical and hits the alarm. Well before 10 seconds is up, the doorway is clogged w/hospital personnel, but the midwife back-pedals over her snap decision. Good to see they are on their toes. The obstetrician comes in, doesn't really like what he sees, but gives us the option of waiting an hour to see how things develop. Well, in much less time than that, the baby's heart rate hits a critically mass of slowness, and there's no question: my wife gets rushed into surgery.
I suit up, find where I'm supposed to be going and in just a few minutes, my wife is open and the baby is out. Now, I was fully expecting a girl, but when I saw her, from behind... well... what I was looking at isn't what I was expecting. So I thought, "a boy???" One or two seconds later, the obstetrician gives me "it's a girl".
Taking too many minutes than my wife would like, they weigh the baby, check her heart rate, tie a transmitter onto her that puts the whole hospital on lock-down if it's brought over these red dots near exits! they present us our daughter.
Later, we're moved to a recovery room, and I try to find cell and wi-fi signals to inform my family and my wife's (the latter being in Latin America, behind a rock-solid language barrier). My choice of words is untoward, and I let my mother believe that someone had died when I conclude the anecdote with "so it's all over". I don't remember whether it was before or after that that I was about to get a nod from the midwife about Down Syndrome, but I was mostly unconcerned at that point.
A few days later, baby's weight is finally on the rise, although my wife is not producing enough milk to cause that, and they let us go home, were I finally get to see my shower, cats, TV and everything. Anyone we pass by (some of whom don't have an axe to grind) tell us how staggeringly cute she is.
So, that's it: I'm a father (to a human). For some insight into how I feel about that, you might look at my story about not being ready for that. I don't feel very different about that on this side of the birth. I do love this little girl, and will do my duty by her, and what will happen to her now? Well, whatever it is, it'll be something that I couldn't prepare for or didn't know to prepare for.
46-50, M
