What you are about to read is the uncensored, undiluted truth about a man's experience witnessing the birth of his first child. Since most of my friends are parents already, much of what I will write will not come as a shock to them. No, these next few entries are meant to strip away the unnecessary sentimentalizing experience that is childbirth. It's about the realities of the moments that I as an expectant father went through during the 50-plus hours around the birth of Helena. It's about how I felt not just as a father, but as a husband, a son, an in-law, a friend, and a man. Much of what I will write may sound crazy, but keep this in mind: my daughter, wife, and I are alive and well and happy to have each other.
New Year's Eve.
So the due date of the 27th of December had come and gone, with no sign of labor. My hopes at claiming a tax credit for 2007 were dwindling fast. My father-in-law Charlie and my sister-in-law Jenny had been staying with us since before Christmas, and they were set to head back home to Alabama within days. Both Charlie and Jenny were sick with colds, and cabin fever was starting to take hold. Being in a holding pattern during the holidays was not the most stress-relieving experience.
Then that nesting instinct kicked in. Heather had the four of us running around cleaning and straightening. I cleaned up the backyard (something that I'd been meaning to do), and I decided to get a haircut. I did this for 3 reasons: 1) there was a distinct possibility that I would have to report for Air Force Reserve duty that weekend, regardless of whether or not Helena was born by then; 2) I wanted to look good for the inevitable pictures that would come soon (hey, if Heather can get her nails done and her hair did, I deserve a $10 haircut!); and 3) I needed to get out of the house.
I got my hair cut at a stylist in Aspen Hill. There, the stylist told me stories of how her nesting instinct preceded the birth of her four children by about 24-48 hours. (She also charged me $25; I'm never going there again...) I became convinced that I was going to be a father that night.
At around 5:30 PM, Heather's contractions started. Because we had been waiting so long, we dismissed the contraction as just a strong Braxton-Hicks contraction. When another one came about a half-hour later, I knew it was for real. Heather lied down on the bed to see if the contractions went away; they didn't, and became regular at around 7:30. We timed the contractions for another hour or so, and got the go-ahead to go to Holy Cross Hospital.
The four of us left with virtually everything we needed. Our baby bag had already been packed, but I did end up forgetting the boombox and music that Heather wanted to listen to in the delivery room. It turned out we didn't need it.
Heather was admitted for observation, and Dr. VanMilder, the Kaiser Permanente doctor on-call, noted that Heather had only dilated 2 centimeters. Heather was told to walk for an hour to see if the dilation would increase. It was at that point that my mother came in to see how everyone was doing. She played her "I'm a doctor" card to get through the waiting area, and while I know she meant well, the added stress of having my mother there definitely didn't help!
After an hour of walking, the contractions didn't the dilation, and the doctor gave us two choices: 1)go home and wait a little longer, or 2) stay and receive pitocin to speed up the process. We both agreed that going home would be way more trouble than it was worth, so we were moved up to the delivery room.
The delivery room was very nice. It was like a hotel suite with hardwood floors and a delivery bed and monitors. Heather was hooked up to the monitors, and the baby's heart rate was racing at around 185, when it should have been around 150. Fluids and 100% oxygen weren't helping, so Heather received an amniotomy, breaking her water at 11:30 PM. Immediately, the baby's heart rate dropped to normal, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor whimsically remarked to herself, "Huh, who knew that's all it would take?" Taken out of context, the doctor might have sounded incompetent, but growing up with a physician for a mother, I knew that medicine is a lot of trial and error. Everyone also knew that the baby was big and strong and could take a lot.
Now that Heather's water had broken, the contractions became more intense. While previously they appeared to me a discomforting pain, they had increased to the point where Heather was vocalizing. I felt quite helpless, because there really wasn't anything I could do to soothe Heather through each contraction. In birthing class, we were instructed to soothe, help coach breathing, or rub/massage arms and legs. Jenny and I tried doing all that, but Heather wouldn't have any of it. So basically, I was forced to watch Heather moan in pain without touching or saying anything for two minutes at a time. Soon after we noticed that it was New Year's Day, Heather was asking for an epidural.
The anesthesiologist, Dr. Lee, administered the epidural at around 12:30 AM. (I challenge anyone to find me an anesthesiologist who is not an East Asian man.) Immediately, the contractions became observably less painful. It was at this point my father-in-law and sister-in-law decided to leave the hospital and wait at the house for the news. Charlie especially didn't feel well, and it was well worth it to rest comfortably at home than wait and feel miserable, quarantined alone in a hospital waiting room.
The epidural had a great effect. Soon after Charlie and Jenny left, Heather took a nap. I even managed to catch some shut-eye for a little bit. For the next three hours, Heather's uterus would contract and her cervix would dilate, all while Heather was asleep. At around 3:45, Heather woke up feeling like she needed to take a giant crap. I went to the nurses' station, and soon, Dr. VanMilder arrived. The doctor examined Heather, and while Heather was asleep, her cervix had dilated to 9 inches. "It looks like we're going to have this baby now!" the doctor happily told us.
Coming up on Part 2: 25 minutes of preparation + 20 minutes of pushing = the birth of Helena "OH WOW, SHE'S BIG!" Latiri.
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