Timing is everything...

Talk about great timing.  2 months before my daughter was born, my company instituted a "Paternity Leave" policy.  Two weeks of paid vacation for "caring for your loved ones and bonding with the new baby."  I should probably set a few people straight before continuing.  Anyone with kids who reads "vacation" in the previous sentence knowing there is a kid on the way and siblings to take care of knows that this is a gross misconception.  There may be 14 calendar days where I'm not required to sit at my work desk, but there's not a minute of that time that will constitute "vacation."  That being said, 14 days of not having to worry about meetings and deadlines so I can take care of my wife, daughter and sons couldn't come at a better time.

That was about the only thing that was well timed.

So on May 12th of this year, I found myself in the pool at our gym with my 3 oldest boys.  Anticipating the birth of #5, and the potential disruption to summer plans, my wife suggested that instead of coming right home after swim lessons, I take the opportunity for some Daddy-Kid time after lessons.  Being a work-at-home dad, I usually would just take the kids to lessons then set up shop in a relatively quiet area and keep working then come straight home afterwards.  Compared to my house after school, an indoor pool during kiddie swim lessons can sometimes be considered a quiet work environment.  However, with the summer schedule up in the air, some quality time with the boys was a good idea.  Besides, by the time lessons were done, the work day was about done so the timing was perfect.  Of course, the one draw back of being IN the pool as opposed to BY the pool meant that I wasn't carrying my cell phone, nor could I hear it if it rang.   So imagine my surprise when I'm toweling the kids off at 5:50 PM and strange man walks up to me and asks my name, then proceeds to tell me "Your wife has been trying to contact you."  Uh Oh.  I speed dial the house phone line while making a mental note that I'm leaving with the same number of kids that I arrived with (hopefully the same ones) only to hear "Where have you been?  I've been trying to contact you for over an hour!  I'm having contractions!"

20 minutes later, I'm stuck in rush hour traffic going nowhere fast when my phone rings again.  I answered (my phone is Blue-toothed into my car so I wasn't doing anything illegal) only to hear "Where ARE you?  My water just broke!"  I explained that I was a mile from home, stuck in traffic and doing everything possible to get home fast.  Of course, being that the conversation was held via the car's speaker system, my 5-year-old proceeds to ask "What happened to Mommy's water?"  Trying to explain the function of amniotic fluid and it's potential hi jinx during labor was not something I was mentally ready to do at this particular time.  I think I did a pretty good job translating it to preschoolese with the main message being:  The baby is coming NOW and we're stuck in traffic.  Grasping the urgency of the situation, he then noted "The gorilla button sure would come in handy right now."  (In previous rush-hour traffic situations, he has conceptualized a standard feature for our minivan which includes a button on the driver's console that, when pushed, releases a thousand-pound gorilla from the roof of the car that will proceed to push all other cars out of the way so we could keep going.)  Smart kid.  I agreed with him whole heartedly.

By 6:20 we reached home (90 minutes since contractions began, henceforth known as C+90), I practically ejected the kids from the car and ran inside to grab all the bags we'd need for the next 2 days.  At this point I had 2 conflicting thoughts running through my head.  1)  I need to get my wife to the hospital and there's still rush hour traffic out there and 2) all 4 previous deliveries were 8+ hour affairs.  If history were any indication, we had PLENTY of time.  It's important to note that the hospital is 40 minutes away from where we live.  No, it's not the closest hospital, but it is THE hospital where all of our other children were delivered and the place my wife felt most comfortable.  I did, at one point, request that she consider a closer hospital, which she did pretty much to humor me, but it was a foregone conclusion that when the time came we'd be making the trek out to the other hospital.  Point being:  While I wasn't happy about a potentially delayed trip due to traffic, I was banking on another long haul to the finish line keeping me calm.

6:40(ish) (C+1hour and 50)  ~20 minutes and about halfway to the hospital, it occurs to me (via my grumbling stomach) that I haven't eaten since breakfast, and if history was any indicator, I'd be by her side for the next 5-6 hours without so much as a tic-tac to tide me over.  (I was later informed that a tic-tac would have been awesome since my breath was kickin'.  Something for all you future Lamaze coaches out there to remember)  I also knew that being a HUGE proponent of the epidural, my wife was going to want to get drugged up ASAP at which point they don't let the mother eat anything until after the initial recovery.  So with nothing but the best intentions in mind, (and knowing there was a Sonic Burger right across from the hospital) I floated the idea that we hit a drive through before running into the hospital.  Having full veto authority as the woman in labor, she shot down that idea post-haste.  A few silent minutes later, again allowing my altruistic nature to shine, I gently reminded her that once we were at the hospital, she wouldn't be allowed to eat anything and 5 minutes in a drive-through might be wise in the long run. OK, I know.  I win the award for the biggest Jackass of the year by mentioning it a second time.  In my (lame) defense, I had been through this 4 times before, and each time she did complain about being really hungry as we waited through the 8-hour post-epidural labor marathon ( it had NOTHING to do with the fact that Sonic makes an awesome burger and shake and I'd been thinking about it for over a week.  She came home a week earlier from an OB appointment at the hospital with a shake cup in hand "Guess what just opened up across from the hospital!").  She put the situation in perspective quite succinctly:  "How about we not delay the pregnant woman her pain meds any more than absolutely necessary?"

Seriously though, I have to say that hunger aside, my perspective up to that point had been colored by 2 things:  1)  We HAD done this four times already and I did feel like we were going to be a while once we got to the hospital and 2) my wife was a freakin' Rockstar.  This second point should be emphasized.  While I could hear her doing her Lamaze breathing in the passenger seat, up to that point she didn't complain once about any pain.  She was timing the contractions, but at no point let on how much she might have been hurting.  While internally, there may have been a lot of fear, anger, pain, etc, externally she was pretty much cool as a cucumber.  Her statement grounded me and my unintentionally cavalier attitude towards yet another delivery corrected itself into "Holy crap, my wife needs help STAT!" 

7PM (C+2 hours 10 min) we pull into the parking lot of the hospital.  Despite being told that "they are waiting for us at the hospital" the place was a ghost town.  Some ridiculous part of my mind was picturing an orderly with a wheelchair and a highly professional and attentive nurse anxiously awaiting our arrival ready to whisk her to the maternity ward.  Nope.  We were on our own.  I'll skip the details, but I eventually got my wife to the maternity ward and checked in, and the nurses immediately began the I.V. drip and preliminary blood work required for an epidural.  The results came in just as we were informed that the anesthesiologist was called into another patient but would be with us as soon as possible.  Awesome.  My wife was at 5+ centimeters by 7:30 and REALLY looking forward to the drugs.  So we waited, holding hands, breathing, watching the clock, and not-so-subtly indicating that perhaps we could shut the door to the room to drown out the shrieking of the woman in the next delivery room.  I've found it interesting that all TV and movie depictions of labor involve a lot of screaming by the mother in labor.  My wife didn't scream through any of our children's births.  Honestly I'm not sure where she would have gotten the breath to be able to.  The woman one room over, however, different story.

8PM (C+3 hours ten) we are told the anesthesiologist is on his way.  Unfortunately, we were now at 8 1/2 - 9 centimeters and told we'd be ready to push soon so, sorry, no drugs for you.  We'd be doing this au-naturale.  Are you KIDDING ME?  By 8:10 they'd prepped the room and by 8:20 we (and by we I mean she) were pushing.  Contractions were coming hard and fast, I was doing my best to guide her through the breathing (ok, FINALLY my 4 prior experiences were paying off and I was being helpful!  (minus the tic-tacs)) and helping hold whatever the doctor said to hold. 

8:25 PM (C+3 hours 35 minutes)  My wife delivered our daughter and she was immediately taken to the warming table.  Unfortunately all was quiet.  No cries.  I think I've mentioned a few times now that I've been through this before and I was acutely aware that there is supposed to be a baby crying at this point.  My wife, thoroughly exhausted is on the verge of freaking out because this little bundle we've been waiting to meet for 38+ weeks, the daughter my wife has been dreaming of since before we ever met, is silent.  The doctor informed us that when a delivery happens this quickly, the baby is often stunned and needs a minute to recover.  Want to experience one of the longest minutes of your life?  Wait expectantly for your baby to make her first sound and receive only silence.  I don't know how much time actually passed, probably only 30 seconds, not the 30 years I probably aged, but then it started.  A baby's cries never sounded so good.  It was in perfect harmony to my wife's relieved crying next to me.  The nursing team brought the naked, squirming, screaming little bundle to Roseann and put her skin-to-skin to meet Mommy.  The baby stopped crying almost immediately and looked up to see her.  Two thoughts went through my head.  The first was that this was truly God's blessing.  We'd been patient (ok, that's debatable) and faithful, and He'd rewarded us with this precious little girl.  Secondly, I was in absolute AWE of my wife.  Our previous pregnancies were nothing to discount.  There is a reason the term is called Labor.  However each prior pregnancy included epidurals and injections for pain, soothing music, lavender fragrances, etc.  (At one point during a previous pregnancy in the post-epidural delay when things had calmed down, we got stink-eye from the nurse because we got bored and were playing cards.)  Again, acknowledging that there is nothing easy about child birth, there is something raw and frightening about watching a woman bring a new life into this world with nothing to help but her own strength and will.  No drugs, no fancy pools or holistic techniques.  This was the miracle of birth.  I saw my wife in a new light that amazed me beyond anything I'd ever experienced before.  She took my breath away and imbued me with a profound respect and awe that I can't put into words.  Did I use the term Rockstar previously?  Yeah, well, Rockstars have nothing on my wife. 

Just over three and a half hours from her first contraction, Chiara (pronounced Key-ARE-uh) was delivered into our lives.  A few cellphone pictures and phone calls later and I was on my way home to make certain my boys were in bed and would be ready for school the next day with the news that their baby sister had arrived.  One of the joys of living in a relatively small town, is that there was a whole host of people anxiously awaiting the arrival of our daughter.  My four little minions were going to spread the word like wildfire the next day as soon as the bus rolled up to our house.

9:58PM (C+ 4hours 8 min) On my way home I pull into the Sonic Drive through.  They closed at 9:55.  Damn.