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It was another Monday in the office. The stack of CD’s next to my desk were tall enough to collapse with a sneeze. I spent most of the day transferring video recorded exams from the early 2000’s onto an external hard drive; three computers all whirling away as the gigabytes flew across the wires.
The day started out with me forgetting to pack lunch. The internal debate to order out yet again finally conceded to my stomach as I stood outside the deli line and ordered a BLT on rye. A headache was forming all morning from lack of nutrients and proper hydration. Here was my silver lining for today.
The office space was stuffier than usual. The weather outside more tempting as the day wore on. I thought about the next 32 work-hours in the week; planning out what fun events I can do to keep my motivation up. Bike ride with Lilly? A Marvel movie with Kaelin?
My mind was set to automatic. Get to work, get stuff done, and go home. It’s just another Monday.
At 3:51 p.m., approximately 9 minutes before I clocked out, my phone buzzed. “I think it’s time” Said Kaelin on the other line.
“Sorry boss, I have to leave.” I said as I cancelled all transfer requests on the computers, slapping closed the laptop, logging off the MAC. I stuffed empty tupperware and a Nelgene in my backpack, leaving my other accessories in strategic places across my desk for me to remember what to do with them should I not return for a while.
“I may suddenly leave in the middle of work.” I told the office manager earlier that morning. “Kaelin is due any day now, right?” one of the doctors asked not 2 hours earlier. We were two days before the due date. Kaelin already had a series of contractions a couple of nights prior; serious enough to consider a trip to the hospital, but not painful enough for labor to set in. I knew it could happen any time this week, but it still came as a surprise.
When I reached our apartment, Kaelin was nowhere to be found. Lillyana–our one year old–was already with grandma (Kaelin’s mom). Did she leave to the hospital without me? I called her on my phone. “I’m outside walking.” She replied. There was no contrast in her voice. I could tell she was tired.
I gathered up the hospital bag and my camera, changing out my work clothes into something I will have to sleep in: gym shorts and a t-shirt.
Ready, set, action. This was no false alarm.
“The contractions are 10 minutes apart.” Kaelin said, as she got in the car. “Mom told me walking will help, so let’s find a park near the hospital. Just in case.” To my suprise, not one minute did we start walking that her phone rang. It was the physician’s office, wanting to schedule a checkup. “Well, I don’t think that will be necessary,!” Kaelin smiled. “I think I am in labor now!” “Okay, let’s have you come in our office, and we can see how dilated you are.” The nurse replied.
15 minutes later, we leave the doctor’s office and head back to the hospital. Labor has started.
“You’re doing good Kaelin.” Her mom coached. Kaelin walked back and forth across the delivery room, pulling the IV along. Despite the intensity in her contractions over the past 4 hours, she seemed in high spirits. “It’s hard, but manageable since the contractions are spaced out.” She told me, bouncing up and down on the exercise ball. “When I was pregnant with Lilly, her inducement at 34 weeks created irregular patterns in my contractions, sometimes one after the other with not break in between. That and her 24 hour labor killed my spirit. I was so tired. All I wanted to do was sleep.”
Nurses came in regularly to check her dilation. “She is progressing well!” They said.
“It’s just a waiting game for her to reach 10cm. Just keep breathing through the contractions, relax, walk or use the ball, whatever makes you comfortable. The baby will be here soon.”
Soon.
This was a concept my brain didn’t fully understand. Kaelin and I were both ready for our son to arrive weeks earlier. At first, we didn’t feel prepared. We still needed to get a bigger stroller, rearrange our room to fit a bassinet and rocking chair, and pack the hospital bag. But once the checklist had fewer empty boxes to tick off, the remaining weeks stretched out like a dolly zoom.
Soon it became hard for Kaelin to pace around the room. The reality became concrete once the septs towards delivery became fewer. Contractions getting worse? Check. Baby begins to feel lower? Check. It was hard for me to stand by and watch Kaelin go through the pain. Rubbing her back and head helped as a distraction, but that was all I could do. Once I accepted my role–just exist in the background and only help when needed–I think it was easier for Kaelin to not be stressed by my presence.
“Something that really helped was music.” Kaelin held up her Bluetooth headphones. “I put on my favorite playlist of modern classical music, and focused on that, even through the delivery. I had to take them off because I couldn’t hear the doctor when he gave me directions. What is really neat is now I have memories tied to these songs whenever I listen to them again. Good memories, memories of fulfillment; not of pain. It makes me feel empowered.”
At 11:40 p.m. Leonardo Merry arrived in this world. His skin was dark purple. It scared me a little bit because he was still sleeping when he came out, but then took his first breath and cried. Exhausted, Kaelin held him on her chest and relaxed. His cries stopped and he opened his eyes, shapes and colors completely unknown filled his mind. His senses are fully exposed to a new world, with no preconceived connotations on what to feel and expect.
“The hardest part of life is over Leonardo!”
3 Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
the fruit of the womb a reward.
4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior
are the children of one’s youth.
5 Blessed is the man
who fills his quiver with them!
He shall not be put to shame
when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.
— Psalm 127;3-5 (ESV)
I hold Leo in my arms as he looks at me, his eyes a tightrope between blue and grey. I can see traces of Lillyana in his face; the small nose, the chubby cheeks. I am filled with joy for the waiting game to be concluded.
Nurses come and go, checking off the requirements Leo needs to pass before we can take him home. Kaelin improves fast in her recovery, walking around the room and in high spirits. “My first pregnancy I got an epidural, and I didn’t like how it made me feel.” She recalls. “My legs were numb for days, I couldn’t move, and I felt lethargic all day. With Leo, the contractions were more bearable, so I decided to go without one. This time when I had to push, I felt it. BAD. I almost gave up. But I think it was worth it, for me at least. In my case, it was better to endure 30 minutes of pushing than to feel flimsy for a week.”
When he is not sleeping, Leo looks around the room. I try to imagine all the blurry shapes his still developing eyes see, and what he thinks of it all. He tries to hold his head up when I burp him. During his diaper change, his hands and legs shake from his immaturity.
Lilly comes to visit us, and sees her brother for the first time. It will be a task to have her get used to another little one at home. But to see her in comparison to Leo really exaggerated her size. My little girl was a toddler now, talking and laughing.
Soon the time comes for us to go home. Kaelin and I are excited to leave. I sit down and begin writing the first draft of this post. We wait for the nurse to clear us of any final tests. Then suddenly we are gone. Leo in his car seat, temperatures jump from a 71 degree hospital room to 87 degree sunny day in July.
I stop at the store and pick up a gift for Kaelin. I promised her one gallon of Chocolate Milk and a Cobra Libra for her strength and endurance through the delivery. My simple gift for her 9 months. Leo sleeps calmly in the back as he and Kaelin wait for me in the car.
Leo is home practicing tummy time on the floor. At first it is a new concept for him. He turns his head and tries to look up, building his neck muscles. He stretches his legs out and seems to propel himself forward. He’s already crawling. I laugh to myself. Don’t worry, its just Gen Z humor, sarcasm in its post-modern form.
Soon he is in bed. Silently he sleeps. Muffled fireworks from trigger happy celebrators go off outside our closed window. Tomorrow is another 4th of July for everyone. Today, it is a new adventure for me.
Molon Labe