In April, 2004, I was finishing up my last month of medical school
and looking forward to Joel's arrival, which we were expecting
sometime in early May. However, Emma and I devised a plan for
communication in which if she felt that she was going into labor, she
would page me with our home number followed by "911". On April 29th,
my second-to-last day of medical school, around 1pm, I received the
page: 257-5847 911!!!
I felt my heart skip a beat and my voice catch in my throat. I found
my preceptor and said, "I have to go now, my wife might be in labor
and I probably won't be back tomorrow." I drove home speedily but
safely, pulled into the driveway, and ran into the house. I found
Emma curled up in a ball on the bed in the upstairs bedroom. Like
clockwork, every several minutes, she would tighten up and cringe as
contractions became stronger and stronger. I think we then called
into the doctor's office and let them know we would be making our way
into the labor room triage office.
We gathered our things and drove as smoothly as possible to the
hospital. Labor was confirmed and Emma was admitted to the Labor &
Delivery suite. Contractions slowly became more frequent, and more
strong, and she finally had an epidural placed. Labor continued
slowly into the evening. We had occasional visits by her doctor.
Eventually, my dad arrived, followed my brother Greg and my mom.
They, too, made intermittent visits into the labor room. It was
becoming a late night for everyone. Around 4am, I remember things
really started to stir. Contractions were much shorter apart and
Joel's heart rate started to drop with each one, telling me that we
really needed to get this little one delivered soon. Emma's doctor
eventually arrived and the pushing and pushing began. Emma gave it
the strongest effort absolutely possible. She got to the point where
we could see Joel's little hairs, but he wasn't coming out.
Very quickly, the specialist was called in and I could see that moves
were being made to rush Emma to c-section. I went out to tell my
family and felt at the very end of my emotional tank. I didn't want
Emma to have to go to surgery, and was kind of angry that the
decision hadn't been made sooner, but it was what it was. I rushed
back to be with Emma and we moved into the operating suite.
The anesthesiologist adjusted Emma's medications and the c-section
promptly began. Within minutes Joel was delivered and required only
little resuscitation. He was beautiful, pink, and had the longest
cone-head I had ever seen. He had been completely lodged within
Emma's pelvis, thanks to her herculean efforts at pushing. The
obstetrician had to literally pull him back out and in so doing
allowed Joel to make a perfect molding of Emma's pelvic bones!
(Nothing a little blue hat couldn't cover, however!)
At this point, when the doctors were putting Emma back together, the
Versed she was given started working in a paradoxical manner. Instead
of helping her relax and remain calm, she became very agitated. She
started to get angry that she couldn't move her legs and was starting
to demand to be taken off the table. She writhed back and forth,
actually getting somewhat delusional. I did my best to keep my arms
across her to hold her in place while the anesthesiologist gathered
other intravenous medications to sedate her for her own safety. Once
she was calm and resting peacefully, I sat down in my chair and felt
utterly and completely drained, physically and emotionally. I
imagined this was supposed to be the most exciting event of my life,
but just couldn't stand up. I couldn't believe what had happened. In
the deepest part of my heart and soul, I knew that my wife was going
to be okay and that my son was doing well, but I just couldn't move
myself enough to physically prove it.
After a few moments of prayerful resting in that chair, as the nurses
and physicians finished with both Emma and Joel, I was handed Joel
and looked into his restful face. What a beautiful little boy! Now,
the joy and happiness that I had been hoping for finally came over
me. Tears (of course) came to my eyes and I never ever wanted to let
him go. In my hands I held the hopes of a lifetime and was
overwhelmed by the utter joy that this little creature shared with
me. Unfortunately, Emma was still asleep, resting off the adverse
effects of her anesthetic, but when we moved to recovery, I let the
new momma hold her boy.
My family came back, took about 10,000 pictures (see this album), and
the joy of Joel's new life was shared with us all. The next few days
now seem to be nothing but a blur. We went home and under the good
guidance of my family, were kept safe and sane for several days. The
next couple of weeks consisted of short naps broken by regular
feedings, cleanings, and the sometimes insane laughter that
consistent baby-induced insomnia can bring. Emma and I were overjoyed
and terrified at the same time, but it was a time in our lives that
we would never trade for anything.
and looking forward to Joel's arrival, which we were expecting
sometime in early May. However, Emma and I devised a plan for
communication in which if she felt that she was going into labor, she
would page me with our home number followed by "911". On April 29th,
my second-to-last day of medical school, around 1pm, I received the
page: 257-5847 911!!!
I felt my heart skip a beat and my voice catch in my throat. I found
my preceptor and said, "I have to go now, my wife might be in labor
and I probably won't be back tomorrow." I drove home speedily but
safely, pulled into the driveway, and ran into the house. I found
Emma curled up in a ball on the bed in the upstairs bedroom. Like
clockwork, every several minutes, she would tighten up and cringe as
contractions became stronger and stronger. I think we then called
into the doctor's office and let them know we would be making our way
into the labor room triage office.
We gathered our things and drove as smoothly as possible to the
hospital. Labor was confirmed and Emma was admitted to the Labor &
Delivery suite. Contractions slowly became more frequent, and more
strong, and she finally had an epidural placed. Labor continued
slowly into the evening. We had occasional visits by her doctor.
Eventually, my dad arrived, followed my brother Greg and my mom.
They, too, made intermittent visits into the labor room. It was
becoming a late night for everyone. Around 4am, I remember things
really started to stir. Contractions were much shorter apart and
Joel's heart rate started to drop with each one, telling me that we
really needed to get this little one delivered soon. Emma's doctor
eventually arrived and the pushing and pushing began. Emma gave it
the strongest effort absolutely possible. She got to the point where
we could see Joel's little hairs, but he wasn't coming out.
Very quickly, the specialist was called in and I could see that moves
were being made to rush Emma to c-section. I went out to tell my
family and felt at the very end of my emotional tank. I didn't want
Emma to have to go to surgery, and was kind of angry that the
decision hadn't been made sooner, but it was what it was. I rushed
back to be with Emma and we moved into the operating suite.
The anesthesiologist adjusted Emma's medications and the c-section
promptly began. Within minutes Joel was delivered and required only
little resuscitation. He was beautiful, pink, and had the longest
cone-head I had ever seen. He had been completely lodged within
Emma's pelvis, thanks to her herculean efforts at pushing. The
obstetrician had to literally pull him back out and in so doing
allowed Joel to make a perfect molding of Emma's pelvic bones!
(Nothing a little blue hat couldn't cover, however!)
At this point, when the doctors were putting Emma back together, the
Versed she was given started working in a paradoxical manner. Instead
of helping her relax and remain calm, she became very agitated. She
started to get angry that she couldn't move her legs and was starting
to demand to be taken off the table. She writhed back and forth,
actually getting somewhat delusional. I did my best to keep my arms
across her to hold her in place while the anesthesiologist gathered
other intravenous medications to sedate her for her own safety. Once
she was calm and resting peacefully, I sat down in my chair and felt
utterly and completely drained, physically and emotionally. I
imagined this was supposed to be the most exciting event of my life,
but just couldn't stand up. I couldn't believe what had happened. In
the deepest part of my heart and soul, I knew that my wife was going
to be okay and that my son was doing well, but I just couldn't move
myself enough to physically prove it.
After a few moments of prayerful resting in that chair, as the nurses
and physicians finished with both Emma and Joel, I was handed Joel
and looked into his restful face. What a beautiful little boy! Now,
the joy and happiness that I had been hoping for finally came over
me. Tears (of course) came to my eyes and I never ever wanted to let
him go. In my hands I held the hopes of a lifetime and was
overwhelmed by the utter joy that this little creature shared with
me. Unfortunately, Emma was still asleep, resting off the adverse
effects of her anesthetic, but when we moved to recovery, I let the
new momma hold her boy.
My family came back, took about 10,000 pictures (see this album), and
the joy of Joel's new life was shared with us all. The next few days
now seem to be nothing but a blur. We went home and under the good
guidance of my family, were kept safe and sane for several days. The
next couple of weeks consisted of short naps broken by regular
feedings, cleanings, and the sometimes insane laughter that
consistent baby-induced insomnia can bring. Emma and I were overjoyed
and terrified at the same time, but it was a time in our lives that
we would never trade for anything.
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