Gametes In Love

It’s been more than seven weeks since A went into labor, and I’m still having a hard time attempting to put my thoughts and feelings into words. It feels like it was years ago in a world very different from our lives today. My memory is fading but the key events are burned into my mind and hopefully won’t fade. But just in case, here are my memories and thoughts on our Labor and Delivery. My hope is that this post will trigger memories and emotions for many years to come. Maybe one day G will read these posts and get a glimpse into the mind of his parents.

The memories that really have been burned into my mind are:

• A has an extremely high tolerance for pain — much higher than I ever expected.
• I had a constant Fear that something would go wrong. A was depending on me to make the decisions necessary (if needed) to protect her and G.
• It’s frustrating watching someone you love go through intense pain without truly being able to stop it!
• The pace of labor felt much faster than I expected. There wasn’t any ‘down’ time to regroup or rest for either of us. The minutes between contractions just started to run together until hours and hours had passed.

I’m thankful to the generations of fathers and doctors before us that pushed to allow fathers in the delivery room. I can’t imagine sitting in a waiting area for hours waiting to find out about my wife and child. I was given the chance not only to be present but to be an active participant. Using Dr. Bradley’s term of “Coach” is a close description, but I felt more like a Player-Coach with active participation in the process. I was by A’s side through each step of the way.

Now for the story (Warning: I tell stories in a very linear fashion, so be prepared for a long post)

After the contractions started while we were at lunch on Thursday Aug 28^th, we went back home, and I had several conference calls for work. I checked in with A between each call and she seemed pretty composed, alert, and had a good handle on monitoring the contractions. I had left my phone with her to use for contraction timing (Contraction Timer for Palm OS). I expected this early stage to last for many hours, possibly into the evening and night time.

When I finished up my last call and went back to check on A about 4 pm, I was shocked to find her downstairs (the house was pretty warm and it was cooler downstairs) lying in the middle of the floor stripped down with a fan blowing directly on her. My heart immediately dropped as I ran downstairs to check on her. It was clear this early stage wasn’t lasting long and that we’d likely already moved into the next stage of labor.

I left her to continue laboring while I scrambled to get our stuff ready and in the car to head to the hospital. I expected we would have several hours for this stage but I’m glad I had a checklist to work from because my mind was a wreck. I walked back and forth from room to room, up and down the stairs, to the car back to the house. I felt like a disorganized crazy person. All the while checking on A, filling her water bottle, rubbing her back, checking on the contraction timing. As I loaded stuff in the car I recalled someone telling me that you won’t need half the stuff you take to the hospital; you just don’t know which half it is until it’s over.

After what felt like far too much time to get our stuff together and the car loaded, it was time to call the doc and report on our contraction timing – it was time to head to the hospital! Holy crap, this was moving fast!

After checking into the hospital and getting to the room, the nurses started the registration and initial checks to make sure we were going to stay there. I knew we were staying – we knew the steps of labor and A was very in tune with her body. We intentionally tried not to go to the hospital too early.

I think I’m pretty good at reading body language and I found myself watching the nurses closely to understand what they were and weren’t telling us. I also was paying close attention to the monitors during the entire process.

After the first reading of the fetal heart rate I noticed that G’s heart rate dropped during a contraction — it wasn’t too bad but it was noticeable. When I saw the drop, I turned to see if the nurse’s face would tell me something – a look of concern, shock, a smile. She seemed a bit surprised that I had caught it. The heart rate drop made the nurse ask to keep the fetal monitor on even though we had asked not to have continuous monitoring. I was fine with this and A wasn’t in a position to have any disagreements – it hit me that my role as Coach put me squarely in the driver’s seat for this trip or at least the first line of defense. I was prepared for this role, but the importance was brought to the forefront at this time.

In order to get to the spirit of our request for non-continuous fetal monitoring, I asked the nurse to turn down the volume of the monitoring so A didn’t have any indication of what the monitor was doing. She didn’t need to have any additional inputs to cause concern. Her only focus was on productive contractions and pain management.

The minutes of each contraction morphed into hours and hours. I didn’t even realize that the sun had set until I couldn’t see in the room. My body was telling me to feed it, but I couldn’t even think about satisfying the need. I had brought some snacks and eventually grabbed a handful of crackers. The pace felt fast because there wasn’t any real downtime between contractions. I really thought G was going to grace us before midnight – the beginning just went by so fast that I thought for sure it was going to continue at the rapid pace.

Then it felt like we hit a wall. I could tell A was getting tired…exhausted really. She was looking for confirmation that she was still making progress. After another check from the nurse that told her her dilation was the same as before, I could tell she was disappointed. It was time for an attempt at a pep talk – just reassurance that this wasn’t a race and that it wasn’t a reflection of a poor performance. G was setting this schedule and we could only go along with the pace he was setting. If it was time for a pause, then we just needed to go along with it. Unfortunately, during this time the contractions stayed at the same pace — long and not much time between them. So while we may have hit a plateau, there was no rest for A.

Newsflash — if contractions are 4 minutes apart, 1.5-2 minutes long, add another 5-10 seconds after the contraction to be sure it’s done, another 10-15 seconds just to calm down, now you are left with 90 seconds are so to Relax — so much for the advice of trying to sleep between contractions.

You’ve read about my slip and fall… it scared me. In a split second I ended up completely horizontal two feet off the floor and falling. I hit Hard. I was worried that I had injured myself and wouldn’t be able to stay with A. I was worried that my fall with distract her and cause her to experience more pain. I knew that she was worried too, and needed her to think I was just fine at a time when I had no idea if I was fine or not. I hit the nurse’s call button and stayed on the floor. I thought it was best to stay there instead of trying to stand up and A realizing that I was really hurt. After standing up and trying to get cleaned up, I was sore but didn’t feel bad. It turned out adrenaline kept the pain down. Hours later the stiffness and pain kicked in, but it was nothing compared to what A was enduring.

After 90 minutes of natural attempts at more productive contractions, we decided to give the Pitocin a go. This meant we had to cross the hurdle of an IV. A has a fear of needles, has small veins that roll, and ALWAYS requests a pediatric needle. I had to execute on another of my critical Coach duties – make sure she had a pediatric needle! I made the request, and the nurse waited a second and then said, “Dad, can we talk?” as she motioned to the door. Oh no, what’s wrong? She tells me that a pediatric needle isn’t an option – if they need to give blood at any point, a pediatric needle isn’t large enough. I understood this, so I explained the small and rolling veins. She gave me a confident look and said she’d take care of it.

As the nurse started to prep for the needle, A looks up and said “I need a pediatric needle.” My heart paused again, because if this didn’t go well, A would certainly wonder why I dropped the ball on the one thing she had reiterated over and over. I replied, “We’ve already talked about it.” So not a lie, but I held my breath when the nurse started the IV. It went great. I was also glad the nurse took the initiative afterwards to tell A about the needle and why.

40 minutes into the round of Pitocin I watched the fetal heart rate and it progressively dropped as the contractions continued. The contractions were about the same pace, maybe a bit more frequent, and occasionally had double peaks. As soon the contractions stopped the heart rate jumped back up to the normal range around 130-140. But they started dropping to the 90s, then the 80s, then 70s, and even dropped into the 50s at one point for a very brief period. I knew this wasn’t working, but wasn’t about to say anything to A.

The doc and the nurse came in again with serious looks on their faces. They asked A how things were going. She didn’t say anything since she was in the middle of a contraction. I gave them the hand sign and continued to help her through the contraction, but knew they were probably sitting there wondering “How do we tell her that her birth plan isn’t working out? How is she going to take this?” Just after the contraction was over, A pulls her head up and with her eyes still closed, blurts out “I think we need to cut him out of here!” The doc almost looked relieved, and confirmed with “I know that wasn’t our preferred plan, but that’s the best route.”

I could tell by how forceful A made her statement that she was comfortable with this decision. I had taken a brief minute or two earlier to look up in the Bradley book about the transverse position and knew that this could end up a serious complication. I took one chance to ask A if she felt okay with the decision – I was more interested in how she answered me than what words came out. As soon as I got the confirmation and echoed it to the doc, the equipment rolled into the room. I’m sure it was already lined up in the hallway! Which told me there really wasn’t an option; this was what we needed to do! Things once again happened fast.

For the first time in 10 hours my mind took a chance to process what was happening. I stood in the hallway outside the OR watching through the tiny window in the door as they prepped A for the procedure. I watched them prep for the anesthesia (several large needles were involved). I watched the nurses laying out all of the equipment. I watched the doc get scrubbed up and suited. I felt tears well up in my eyes and a rush of emotion fall over my shoulders – I had to fight it off because this was only just beginning.

They finally waved me into the room, and I took my seat behind the curtain next to A’s head and held her hand.

I watched what I could from the reflection in the door of the surgical cabinet. I picked up on a few comments between the doc and the nurses – like “Yep, there’s a wrap” – referring to a cord wrap around his neck, which may have been the cause of the drop in heart rate with each contraction. I also heard A snoring – she was so exhausted that she caught a few minutes of sleep as the procedure started.

I stood up just as they were pulling G out. His head was the only part out and it was Smurf Blue and very cone shaped. They reached in and pulled the rest of his small body out and rushed him over to a table. As blood poured out of A, I remember thinking – I need to be there with him, but I need to be here with A too. Then the nurse called me over to G – and I gave A look and quickly went to his side.

His blue color was fading and he was crying – all good things. He had a lot of fluid still in his nose and throat so they were suctioning it out, over and over. I’m glad I knew this was normal for c-section births. The trip down the birth canal usually squeezes out much of the fluid and with his detour; he still needed to get out the extra fluid. Without this knowledge I probably would have been freaking, so I just held his hand and keep talking to him.

We got him swaddled up and then took him to A. She got a brief chance to see him and touch him. One of the nurses asked for my camera to take a picture. Camera? I didn’t know I could have a camera in the OR – so no pictures from that scene.

Then off G and I went to the NICU part of the nursery for his tests and to get him under the warmer. We held off on his bath until he could breast feed. We waited in the nursery, until we got the call that A was in recovery, stable, and ready to breast feed. It felt like hours but was only about 30-40 minutes. I didn’t leave G’s side for the next 10 hours – from OR, nursery, recovery room, back to nursery, then to Mom’s room once she was settled. I didn’t have a phone with me to call and update the family and friends who sat by as hours passed without any updates.

I was thrilled to have a healthy beautiful boy and sad that I wasn’t experiencing it together with A. It was one of the loneliest feelings I’ve experienced, and was only made better by gazing at G lying in the hospital crib while holding my hands across his body.

Post by S

It was a hazy dreamlike experience when I rolled over this morning and the clock displayed 5:00. What? 5AM? Did I miss G crying for his night time bottle feeding? No crying was coming through the baby monitor. I needed to use my fingers to count how long he had slept – 9pm to 5 am… 1, 2, 3… 8 HOURS!!! Is that possible?

Sure enough, I have the chart to prove it.

G was feeding like crazy yesterday so he certainly loaded up on calories. He had a bath (see the crying picture posted by A earlier today), clean diaper, bed time nursing session, then he went to sleep about 9 pm. He woke up briefly about 9:45 pm with crying, twisting, and legs flailing. This is his typical fit that often wakes him. After a few minutes of A holding him, we put him in the swing with the hair dryer on High – He was OUT in about 30 seconds. And there we left him – peacefully swinging with the dryer blowing. I turned the dryer off an hour later and off to bed we went.

Almost 9 hours later at 6am he was just barely stirring when I changed his diaper. He was wide awake for his night time bottle a few minutes later.

This is probably more of a milestone for me than it is for him, but I love it! I’m not sure when it will be repeated, but I’m thrilled!

Just a fun photo of the transition of Baby G from holding in the glider to sleeping in the crib.

super slow shutter speed in a pretty dark room

Posted by S

Three years ago today A and I spent a fantastic day at Nestldown for our wedding. It was an amazing day and one that I think about often. Given that our family is growing, I just can’t help but to think back about the events that led to our relationship. It’s these same thoughts that went into our wedding vows, it was actually the entire script to our wedding ceremony.

A and I agonized over every word in our wedding ceremony. We wanted the words to reflect our true thoughts and philosophy of our relationship. We didn’t craft these words solely on our own. We pulled from other wedding ceremonies – some found online, some from friends (I know they recognize the lines we pulled), some from quotes, and some are our own words. By piecing these together we made something unique – like a great DJ who mixes samples to create a new song or a mash-up video artist that takes pieces of videos/songs to create a new video. In the end, it’s something special.

Each year I go back and read our ceremony (I’m glad they are still on our wedding site). This year they’ve taken a different shading for me given that our family is now at 2.9 (with 1 month left until Baby G is a full member of the family I give him a .9). The lines that hit me this year are (with bolding to emphasize the part that stands out to me):

do you now choose, A to be your wife, to share your life openly with her, to speak truthfully and lovingly to her, to accept her fully as she is and delight in who she is becoming, to respect her uniqueness, encourage her fulfillment, and compassionately support her so long as love and life shall endure?

I will love you enough to risk being hurt, trust you when I don’t understand, weep with you in heartache, and celebrate life with you in joy.

These circles [the rings] are the completeness of a promise to stand by one another’s side, the vow to grow together, laugh together, and love together.

Marriage is serious business and hard work. It’s not just becoming roommates, it’s becoming soul mates; it’s not just signing a license, it’s sharing a life. Now that you’ve exchanged your vows, you can only imagine what they will really mean, what hills and valleys stretch out in front of you in the years ahead. There’s only the future, unlimited and unknowable, and the promise to make the journey together.

Marriage is not self-sustaining; it requires nonstop nurturing.

Together, you will half your sorrows and double your joys!
You may now seal your vows with a kiss.

As we stand at the point in time with 3 years of marriage behind us, it’s clear that 3 years is such a tiny fraction of time compared to the years that lie in our future.

A – Happy Anniversary. “I choose you to be my wife, my friend, my love.”

Posted by S.

We’ve been working on the nursery lately and it’s almost done. It’s turning out to be a great room — that’s our opinion which is a good thing since most nursery decorations are for the parents and not the infant.

From an earlier post you know the colors are green and brown and that we’re going with a modern geometric pattern.

The focal wall has Baby G’s name in large wooden letters. We then used Wall Words to print out a quote in vinyl letters. The quote is “mythical animal with the body of a lion and head and wings of an eagle”. The contrast of the thickness of the wooden letters along with the vinyl letters applied to the wall surface is great (yes, we’re biased). The two fonts work well too.

I find myself glancing into the room as I leave in the mornings and again when I get home in the evening.

Post by S

Maybe a better title is “My brain is shrinking”.

A little back story is needed to start this post. When we started down the road to parenthood A gave me a book, “The Expectant Father“. I, of course, read it cover to cover. No really, I did. It was just over a year ago. It’s a great book that goes over the pregnancy month by month with sections like “What Going On with Your Partner”, “What’s Going On with the Baby”, and “What’s going On with You”.

Since it’s been a while, I still pick up the book and read the relevant Month’s chapter – typically I read the chapter in bed. As I read the chapters, I like to think that I’m learning something that A doesn’t already know. I now realize that this feeling is completely ridiculous. After A has read a few books and some very detailed posts on the Nest, there is really no new information that my single little book is going to reveal. But she usually just lets me ramble about random statements while she is actually tuning me out.

As I’m reading the chapter for the 6th Month, I decide to read out loud so I can school A in some new information! Maybe she would like to know more about “A Few Positively Odd Things Your Partner Might be Experiencing”.  So here is what I was reading, out loud:

if your partner has been forgetful lately, or seems to be losing a lot of things — including her memory — it may be because her brain is shrinking.

A looks up and gives me an evil eye. So I continue reading while thinking that I’m sharing some info that will help her explain some of the Baby Brain episodes. I may even earn some ‘good husband’ points!

Yep. Anita Holdercroft, an English anesthesiologist, found that during pregnancy, women’s brains actually get 3 to 5 percent smaller.

A is still staring at me, this time the stare is more intense, so I keep reading (out loud remember):

Now that you know this, it’s probably best that you  keep it to yourself. After all, there’s really no nice way to tell someone that her brain is shrinking.

Of course, I stop reading out loud at that point. And A asks, “Who’s brain is shrinking?”

I think I was just experiencing some sympathy brain shrinkage. But one thing’s for sure, we won’t be having any more reading out loud story time with the baby books.

Written by S

A and I decided a while back to look for a new OB and to check out the hospitals in the area. We might as well check out our options since we wanted to find a new doc. This week was the appointment with one of the docs that came highly recommended. As we pull out of the driveway to the appointment, I say “Do you have your list of questions for her?”.

After a short pause, I said “Do you think it’s rude to ask to see her Portfolio? If she’s going to deliver our baby, I’d like to see some pictures of her previous work.” A little laughter fills the car. I add, “You wouldn’t hire an architect or builder without seeing their work.”

The nurse practitioner meets us in the lobby and walks us to the examining room. As we walk into the hall, the walls are lined with bulletin boards FILLED with baby pictures. Yes, every wall had a bulletin board! A turns around and said “There’s your portfolio!”

Portfolio Review — check

We’ve found a new doctor!

(there were definitely more factors that went into the decision)

The last two weeks of waiting have felt very long. The only info or feedback to go on is from A – I wake up each morning and ask how she’s doing. Not the normal Good Morning question, I want to know what’s she’s feeling or not feeling. Is she tired? nauseous? in pain? hungry? sleepy? She’s my only link to what’s happening.

I’ve kept a reserved mindset – I call it Cautiously Optimistic. I think it’s somewhat of a protective approach in case something goes wrong – which is a very real possibility given we are in the very early stages. I’m worried that if I give in to the thrill of the excitement it could make things harder later.

But I just can’t stop thinking that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity — our first kid. You don’t get to recreate these moments. Am I missing out on a something? Am I going to regret my cautious mindset?

The last week has been filled with mixed emotions. We are at such the early stages that it feels like we shouldn’t tell many people about our state, but that’s seems strange given how open we’ve been with our process (well it’s mostly been A doing the sharing). It didn’t feel right to suddenly go Radio Silent, especially with those that have been following this blog.

We’ve decided to keep posting on this blog — so we’ll keep posting updates, information on the process, and our general feelings as we continue down this journey. There may be times when you get info from the blog instead of from a direct call or email. Please don’t feel like you’ve been left out — if you are reading this then you are already part of the Inner Circle. Precisely the people that we want and need to provide us with the love and support, regardless of any twists and turns this journey make take.

The balance we’ve struck is that we have two groups – those that know our Secret and those that don’t. If you were following the blog before we received our BFP (big fat positive) then you know all the details. But until we progress through the first trimester, we’re not broadcasting our news. So help us keep the Secret for a while longer.

We love the support we’ve received thus far and truly appreciate it. Stayed tuned for more posts.

Today is the day. Now is the time.

I’m sitting in the waiting area of the doc’s office while Wifey is probably knocked out on the table. Each time a door opens I quickly look up expecting to see a nurse coming towards me with info – my logical mind says “good news” but my emotional mind fears that it’s “bad news”.

Wifey gave me a task to do while waiting, create my holiday card list of names and addresses – as mind numbing as that is, I still can’t even focus on it. So hands jump to keyboard (you didn’t think I would arrive for a three hour wait without a laptop did you?) for the therapeutic release of a blog post.

News Flash – I just heard our RE’s voice in the hallway. She was just checking on any waiting patients before she “went to retrieval”. An hour after our check-in at the clinic and it sounds like the doc is heading to Retrieval. That’s a good sign – things are on schedule.

Back to earlier thoughts. I thought after the shots ended we would coast into the retrieval appointment. It was at that point that my mind fought off the negative thoughts – had I been giving the shots correctly, were we too flexible in the timing of the shots, did I really give 5 IU last night or was that 10 IU. I could also tell that Wifey was more uncomfortable – the noticeable cringe on her face when the cramps shot through her were more frequent, the stiff look when we hit a bump on the road. It made me appreciate the sacrifice she was going through for US.

As much as it seems like a selfish reason, I’m glad I gave all the shots and attended most of the doc visits because I feel a part of this process. Otherwise I think I may feel more like an ingredient in a recipe – “Please produce a sample. Now wait here.”

The clock ticks away. The procedure is probably starting now. In an hour, we’ll be on our way home. Then we’ll have the challenge of replacing any negative thoughts with hopeful ones while we wait for the fertilization report tomorrow morning.