The journalist in me is tempted to begin this blog post starting with all the conflict and torment that came with my wife’s emergency C-section last week. Instead I will give you the disclaimer that wife and baby are happy and healthy, and dad couldn’t be prouder of both.

Just as soon as the doctor and my wife Meg settled on a C-section and began investigating the options for surgeons, the experience was expedited. Monitors kicked into overdrive beeping at a hurried pace. A handful of doctors and nurses swirled around Meg, as my son Jamie’s heart rate dipped.

“Get down here now!” our soft spoken doctor yelled over the phone to the surgeon.

They wheeled Meg into the operating room, leaving our previous room barren, except for the beeps reverberating in my ears.

Meg told me things would be OK, as they wheeled her out. While her intentions were good, being consoled by my wife, who is about to undergo surgery, left me helpless and confused.

A nurse sat me down on the couch, looked into my eyes, and told me that my son and my wife would be OK. The same thing happened to her child when she gave birth, she said.

Jamie’s heart rate decelerated earlier in the day but rebounded. He also had meconium in his amniotic fluid, a combination that could have resulted in the need for a breathing tube, if inhaled. I processed these complications and thought of my parents, who dealt with my brother’s frequent asthma attacks as a child.

The nurse pulled together a set of scrubs, and I quickly changed. We made our way to the operating room and Jamie’s heart rate had already rebounded.

I sat with Meg holding her hand, as they made the incision and extracted Jamie. The earlier complications stemmed from Jamie having the cord wrapped around his neck. He had also changed positions enough, making it difficult to come out through natural child birth.

There were a quiet couple moments as the doctors worked. Meg’s body contorted with the pressure of the extraction. Soon we heard the loud, jolting cry of our startled son, and couldn’t have been happier.

I followed the nurses to the other side of the curtain. They left a length of the umbilical cord for me to cut.

He measured in at 9 pounds and 7 ounces, and 22 inches long.

Our Transition

Every time we stress out about the crying or the lack of sleep or the chaos of balancing paperwork, household chores, and diaper changes, there’s a little trick we’ve learned.

Just look at that smile. It’s a great thing that God made babies look so cute. It melts me every time I look at him.

He’s already sleeping better than he did in the hospital. We’re waking up 1-2 x a night to feed him, and for the most part he’s going back to sleep.

Waking up with his cries, and being alert enough to help is a major concern of mine. His cries are certainly loud enough, but it can take me some time to process things in the middle of the night. In fact, the whole adventure began at 1:30 in the morning when Meg nudged me awake to tell me she thought her water broke. My response?

“That’s OK honey, go back to sleep.”

Needless to say, she didn’t let me. As we continue, we’ll get the hang of this parenting thing.

He’s got me appreciating every moment of this. A couple days ago he held his head up on his own.He’s also displayed the “thinking man” pose on a number of occasions, with his fist clenched below his chin. He’s wrapped his tiny little fingers around my finger a handful of times. The pictures and updates on Facebook will continue, as he continues to melt my heart.

The 21 hours of labor that Meg underwent on March 11 brought the scariest moments of my life, followed by the happiest.

I’m just so thankful he’s here, and everyone is healthy.