Monday, June 8, 2009

The Second Born

August 18, 2002

It was a beautiful day. My wife, daughter and I were spending the day with my parents on the deck in their backyard.

We enjoyed some good conversation, cold drinks, and barbequed steak with baked potatoes. All in all, it had been a great day. Except that my wife had been complaining about stomach pains most of the day. I kept asking if she wanted to go home, but she said she wanted to stay.

By the time we got the baby ready to go and drove back to our place, it was after ten PM. We put our daughter to bed, then I proceeded to play some boxing on the Playstation.

I had only got a few rounds in, when my wife came into the room and said that she thought she should call the midwife.

"Why?" I asked. Stpuid question considering she was nine months pregnant.

"I think I'm in labor."

So she picked up the phone and, from where I was sitting, I could hear her talking.

"I think I'm in the early stages of labor. I just thought I'd let you know.....No, no. I'm fine."

Apparently, while they were on the phone, the midwife had taken it upon herself to time the contractions. He feeling was that my wife was further along than she had thought, and we should go to the hospital, now.

Of course, my wife had been through this once before, so she knew what she was talking about. Nevermind that the midwife had already delivered over a hundred babies. "Oh no," my wife said. "I'm okay. It's just the early stages yet. I probably won't have to go to the hospital until the morning."

Of course, in my mind, I wanted to tell her that perhaps she should listen to the midwife. She may know what she's talking about. However, I have learned something through two pregnancies. Never argue with a pregnant woman. It's an excercise in futility. So, I kept my mouth shut.

Finally, the midwife was able to get her point across and make my wife realize that we needed to get to the hospital NOW!

We called my mother who came over to watch the 18 months old, and we then left for the hospital. When we got there, I realized I had no money to pay for parking. Luckily, the supervisor for the security guards was an old high-school friend of mine and happened to be in the parking lot writing tickets. I told him what was going on and he placed a note on the windshield telling the other guards not to ticket my car.

With that problem solved, we made our way to the maternity ward, ready for the next arrival to our family.

Once again, we had hoped for a homebirth. However, there were complications with the pregnancy. The complication being, there was too much amniotic fluid. This meant that when her water broke, the amniotic fluid could rush out, bringing the umbilical cord out before the baby. If this were to happen, the cord could strangle the baby. This meant that not only did we have to have the baby in the hospital again, just as a safety procaution, it also meant that my wife hed to be examined by an obstetrician.

So, the doctor walks in the room, very gruffly examines her, announces that she is seven centimetres dialated (meaning, midfwife was right. She was pretty far along.) then without telling anyone what he was about to do, breaks her water with his finger, successfully pissing off my wife. But, before he could get yelled at, he rushed out of the room, never to be seen again.

What began next was a few hours of seven centimetres, two centimetres, and so on. For whatever reason, the uterus wasn't only not dialating, it was going back down. WTF?????

It took six hours for the baby to come. I had learned my lesson from the last time, and I didn't crack jokes nearly as much. Again, I got to cut the cord, but still wasn't allowed to catch the baby. Apparently, I was remembered from last time.

Soon, I was holding my new baby boy in my arms.

Again, I made all the obligatory phone calls from the hospital room. In doing so, I learned that my daughter had woken up and my mother took her to their house so that we could take the baby home and gets some much needed rest.

First, my wife declared that she was hungry and wanted McDonald's. (No, I'm not kidding. She actually wanted McDonald's) So, we went through the drive-thru with our baby who was only a few hours old (yes, I corrupt my kids early in life). As we were driving home, my friend Marty happened to be crossing the street while we were stopped at the light. So now, I'm hanging out my window yelling "WE HAD A BABY!!!!"

Finally we get home, and sleep. We slept for maybe six hours, then decided that it was time to introduce the 18 months old to her new baby brother. Unsure of how this would go, my wife had concocted a speech in her mind that she was going to give to this child that had the attention span of a goldfish.

The speech went something like: "Honey, you have a new baby brother now. This doesn't mean that we love him anymore than you. We love you both the same. Would you like to meet him?"

That's the short version. Hers was much longer, and it's been awhile, so I can't remember it word for word.

Turns out it didn't matter.

We walked through the fron door and I had just set the carseat with the sleeping baby in it in the front room and was taking off my shoes when my daughter ran into the room looked right at me and yelled: "BABY!"

Apparently my mother got to her first and already explained the situation.

Our baby boy is going to be seven this August. He is a very quiet boy, who prefers to be in a room alone flipping pages of books and looking at the pictures. He is very sensitive and will cry if he even thinks you're mad at him for any reason (I'm told he gets that from me). He also has a good sense of humor and loves to laugh.

And so ends the story of the birth my second child. Not as humorous as the first one, I know, but it still is one of my favorite memories.

Thanks for sharing this memory with me,


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