The story of Joseph's beginning is far from over. But I have a few minutes to myself this evening, so I am starting the process of writing the story of his birth.
It's hard to explain the emotions we felt leading up to Joseph's birth. We wanted to be excited and to feel the way most parents do in the days leading up to their child's birth, but most often, we did not. I was excited to learn whether this was a boy or a girl that I had been carrying and loving since October when I learned that I was pregnant. When I thought of the moment that the doctor announced "it's a _____!" I felt that same flutter of excitement and anticipation that I had the whole pregnancy. But once I got past that, it was hard to focus on anything besides what wondering what it would be like to be in the NICU, and to sit in the waiting room for many long hours during my newborn's open heart surgery and see him afterwards all stitched up and with a breathing tube. It still is difficult to think about anything beyond that, but I am trusting with all of my being that we will get to take our baby home eventually, even though it's going to be a much longer journey than we planned.
My c-section was scheduled for 2:30 on Wednesday afternoon. It was torture waiting - they really should only schedule these early in the morning. I was cut off from eating and drinking after 6am, so I set an alarm for 5am to get up and eat breakfast; since I didn't sleep much, I ended up going downstairs at 4:45 with a book and eating pancakes and oatmeal. I climbed back in bed about an hour later and slept until Nora woke a little before 8.
We had packed most of our things ahead, so that morning we took our time getting ready and helping Nora get dressed and ready for the day. We read stories and talked about the new baby. She was so excited to become a big sister, and though it was breaking my heart knowing that she also had a long wait until she could do all of the fun big sister things we had been talking about, I tried my best to be positive for her. It helped having her there - we didn't have the option of breaking down or being too nervous because our focus was on her. She wore a shirt that said "Coolest Big Sister" and talked about all of the fun she wanted to have with her cousins that day. I was savoring every moment with her in her last moments as our only child, and had to go upstairs to cry when my in-laws arrived to take over so we could finish getting ready and leave for the hospital. As much as I had prepared myself to go through this, I wasn't emotionally ready to see her be sad about her baby brother. (As of today, right now, she still isn't sad. She knows he is "a little sick" and the doctors and nurses are taking extra special care of him, but, for now, being a big sister is still pretty cool.)
Ryan and I went through our checklist a few more times before leaving. We called Nora inside and sat with her one last time and told her how proud we are of her and how we know she is going to be the best big sister. She was worried because "I am going to miss you when you are at the hospital," but we reminded her that even though she probably will miss us, we will miss her too and she will be having so much fun with her cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents that she won't have too much time to think about missing us anyway.
We drove to the hospital, both of us holding it together and staying positive, as much for ourselves as for each other. But this baby was different than the morning we drove to the hospital for Nora's c-section. Instead of being nervous about the c-section, I didn't care about that at all and was nervous instead for everything that came after it. Would I get to see the baby in the first hours of his or her life? Would Ryan? Would we be able to hold him? Feed him? Soothe him?
After checking in and going through the initial round of questions with a nurse, they started an IV and left us in the quiet. It was hot in the room and I hadn't eaten all day; this combined with the initial rush of IV fluids made me queasy and feeling generally awful. Ryan called the nurse and got me a fan and several cold wet wash cloths, and slowly the feeling passed. We had been getting texts all morning from family and friends and took the down time to respond to some of those. Between this and the nurses and doctors stopping in to go over what to expect, the next hour and a half passed quickly.
And then time stopped. The NICU got 2 "surprise" patients that morning and delayed the start of my c-section as a result. While I'm grateful that they were organized enough to have all hands on deck for our little one, the extra hour of waiting was excruciating. I was so nervous that I literally shook. I cried off and on, and Ryan rubbed my back and reminded me that this heart condition was "fixable." This is what we had been repeating to each other since we learned of the transposition: "It's fixable. This is a fixable problem." Finally, it was time, and we walked back to the OR. Ryan had to stay in the hallway while they started my spinal block and other preparations. It all felt unreal to me, like I was in a movie or some kind of awful dream. I remember the nurses and doctors talking to me, but I don't remember saying anything in return.
They put the screen up so I couldn't see what was happening down below. I tried not to think about it. Ryan came in and sat beside me and I tried to look at him, but my neck was hurting and it was hard to have my head turned that way. I don't know if it was the medicine or the emotions or a combination of it all, but I felt way less "with it" during this operation than I had when Nora was born. I felt my eyes close and would snap them back open because I didn't want to fall asleep. I tossed my head back and forth trying to get comfortable and rubbed my fingers together to make sure that I could still feel them. For some reason, I was terrified that the spinal block was going to numb my whole body instead of just the chest down.
They warn you when you have a c-section that you will be both nauseated and feel like you have an elephant sitting on your chest. I must've asked for nausea meds at least five times, and I still ended up dry heaving into a pink plastic tray when Ryan left to go with the baby.
Joseph was born at 3:52pm. Since I had to switch hospitals at the last minute, none of the doctors in the room were "my" OB, and because the staff were all focused on the baby's condition upon delivery, no one remembered to tell us if it was a boy or a girl. Thankfully after a minute, the anesthesiologist spoke up and asked "Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"
"Yes!" It was the first clear thought I had mustered the entire surgery.
"It's a boy!" Ryan and I looked at each other and smiled. For the last several weeks, we had both been thinking it was a boy. In my head, I had even started referring to the baby as "he" without realizing I was doing so.
The hospital staff moved so quickly with his paperwork and wrist bands that he is listed as BabyBoy, but we named him Joseph Wilmer after the two strongest and wisest men we know: my dad and Ryan's grandpa.
He didn't cry when he was born, and he was whisked back to the NICU Resuscitation Room so quickly that I didn't even realize what had happened. After learning he was a boy, I asked "where is he? Why isn't he crying? Is he crying? Do you hear him?" over and over.
After a few minutes (or maybe it wasn't that long - it seemed like forever), we heard a tiny, squeaking cry from the next room. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, I thought. I may have even said it out loud. Some time later they brought him back to us, and Ryan got to hold him briefly and I kissed his cute little head.
It was several hours before I got to see the baby again. Though we had hoped Ryan would be able to stay with him as they got him set up in the NICU, there were too many doctors and nurses doing too many things, so he had to stay with me instead. We waited in the recovery room for several hours. They kept us in there much longer because they wanted to take me through the NICU on the way up to my post-partum room. I was shaky from the medication but hot. I asked the same questions over and over again. Eventually my sister came in, and later my parents. My dad cried when I asked him if he liked his name.
After a couple of hours waiting in recovery, I got grumpy and hungry. I wanted two things: to see my baby, and a large pile of pancakes. In that order. I began to pester every nurse that came in for these two wishes, and finally one of them told me I could have a liquid diet. If my legs would have worked, I would have jumped out of my bed and punched her. Who do you think you are, lady, offering a sad and scared new mother jello? GET ME SOME CAKE.
I got frozen lemon flavored water disguised as lemon sherbet instead. It was frozen solid and my plastic spoon would simply not work upon its icy surface, so it just made me more mad. When Ryan told me that there was a reason that I was on a liquid diet - after all, I had just had surgery - I yelled at him.
But mostly I was worried about the baby. What was taking so long? We sent nurse after nurse in to check what was going on, and they came back saying it was just taking longer than expected but everything looked as they expected it to.
Finally they wheeled my bed (with me in it) into the NICU. Normally 7-8pm is shift change for the staff and they kick everyone else out, but, knowing we had been waiting much longer than we anticipated, they made an exception for us. Ryan walked along with us and we finally got to spend some time with our son. He was breathing well and didn't require any additional oxygen, so we could hold him and they even let me try nursing. I didn't expect to be able to nurse him at all before his surgery, so this was a huge relief.
He had to stay in the NICU, of course. Even though he wasn't requiring an supplemental oxygen, his pulse, respiration, and oxygen saturation levels were being monitored at all times and he was receiving prostagladins through an umbilical vein line (an IV, basically) to allow more oxygenated blood to mix with non-oxygenated blood in his heart and pass to the rest of his body. Though the practically had to pry him away from me, he returned to his bed and they wheeled me upstairs to my room.
I didn't stay in my room much; I went downstairs to the NICU whenever I had the chance. I nursed him when I could and pumped to try to build my supply when I couldn't. I insisted to the nurses and everyone else that I was fine - and so I returned to my room to sleep, eat, pump, and take medication.
This already seems like it happened a long time ago. So much has happened since then; his surgery was yesterday morning and he is now recovering. He is doing really well, but it's been a whirlwind and we're taking it literally one tiny step at a time, hour by hour and sometimes minute by minute. I will write another update again, soon, I hope. Until then, keep him in your thoughts and prayers. He may be the smallest guy in my life, but he's the toughest one I know.
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| Nora meeting Joseph for the first time. I'll write more about her big sisterhood later. She is so proud of him and I can't wait to see her love him and teach him all sorts of things. |
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