Flashbacks, again
Today my littlest baby turns one.
One.
A whole year has gone by since this amazing, bubbly boy came breezing into our lives.
It seems like yesterday.
But then it seems like he's always been here.
Today I am remembering Aden's birth day. As I did with Trey, I'll share Aden's delivery story on his first birthday.
I promise you that this will not be anywhere near as nail-biting as some people's childbirthing tales. Start to finish was a bit longer than an episode of Andy Griffith (love you Kristie!). And no, I didn't beast it (love you Kelly!).
We had a scheduled C-section, basically because little me churns out comparatively large babies. Trey was 8 lb 9 oz, and though he was delivered naturally, we experienced shoulder dystocia, which can actually be very dangerous for both baby and mom. All signs pointed to Aden being another large-ish baby, so my doctor pretty much insisted on the C-section.
So the night before, we take Trey to Nana & Granddad's, and as we drive away I go into mourning. I'm betraying my biggest baby. It will never be just us again. He's going to hate me.
Brandon talks me down. Now it's time to focus. Straighten up the house, take my last shower as a mama of one, pack the hospital bag.
I can eat up until midnight, then have absolutely nothing (not even water) until after the surgery. So of course, I have scheduled a large bowl of cereal and a couple of Oreo Klondike bars to be eaten promptly at 11:30. If you know me at all, you know how very happy I was at 11:30.
Delivery day arrives. We're supposed to be at the hospital at 9:00, which means leave the house by 8:00. Didn't happen exactly that way. We leave at maybe 8:20, and because (gasp!) I hadn't fixed breakfast for him that morning, Brandon must stop at the store for some food.
Nice. Torment me, why don't you.
A little surreal, driving to the hospital calm as can be to get your baby out. I was having some contractions, so that helped a bit. Still weird, though.
Get to the hospital and sit in the waiting room for at least half an hour. I am called back to triage, change clothes and get monitored up. I am, in fact, having regular contractions. Fun!
About twenty thousand questions and an hour later, Brandon is allowed into the room. He is positively pumped about getting his scrubs. Except we are delayed. And then delayed some more.
If the thought of having gigantic needles stuck into my spine didn't cause me anguish (it did), and if the anticipation of having my body cut open wasn't stressing me out (it was), well, the delays put me over the edge.
Note to self: scared and irritated is a weird combination, and certainly isn't the way to go into major surgery.
Finally, it was our turn. I stuffed my hair into a blue cap and watched as Brandon mentally worked through putting on his paper suit. And they rolled me away from him.
Commence freak out.
Oh dear Lord.
Brandon would tell me to man up right now.
But I'm a woman.
And he's not here.
I wish he was here.
I'm not very brave.
I'm getting motion sick on this bed.
I don't want to do this.
I'm having contractions.
Can't we just turn around and see how it goes?
I'd hate myself if something went wrong.
OK, seriously people, either stop or go.
Doggone rolling bed.
I may vomit.
This is the operating room?
This is the first thing my baby will see?
It's cold.
I wish Brandon was here.
That's not an epidural.
I wanted an epidural.
Spinal?
You're going to stick me how many times?
Um, the local numbing agent isn't working.
What, are you all digging for gold back there??
This may be the worst pain I've ever felt.
Please, I need my husband.
I may pass out.
I will definitely be vomiting at some point.
Man, what a headache.
Where is Brandon?
Oh, there you are.
Those scrubs are goofy.
I'm so scared.
I feel tugging, you're missing it, stand up!
Get the camera!
I thought you people numbed me!
There he went.
I have another baby.
I feel empty now.
I hear him. Oh, praise God!
Where is he?
They are supposed to let me see him!
I need to see him!
Hair? Lots of hair?
There he is.
Wait, he's tiny!
I'm in love.
Let me see his hair.
Dark brown. He looks like me.
Oh, my heart could explode.
Please don't take him away so soon.
Brandon, go with him.
But I need you with me.
But go with him.
Here comes the vomit.
The room is spinning.
I'm sweating all over.
But I'm cold.
Am I supposed to be this tired?
When do I get to see my baby?
Everything is going dark...
I woke briefly in the recovery room, and in trying to focus on the gigantic clock on the wall at the end of the bed, realized the room was still spinning, I was still having cold sweats, and, um, get me something because I'm going to throw up again. Then sleep would come.
This scenario repeated several times for the next four and a half hours. Half-conscious, I could hear the nurse talking with different people about me. None of this was supposed to be happening. They tried giving me a few things in my IV to help, but nothing did.
I woke one time to see Brandon beside me.
He came to tell me that Aden needed to eat, but I couldn't sit up or open my eyes without vomiting. I told Brandon this felt like a migraine. He told the nurse, who thought that might make sense. They put even more medicine in my IV.
Desperate to see my baby, I asked if I might be able to nurse laying down. They brought him in.
Aden.
He was indeed hungry, and even from day one we have had no problems with feeding this little man.
Adrenaline rush or migraine medicine, I started to feel much better. Finally got out of recovery, and not an hour later, the visitors began.
Precious, precious visitors.
Now two of the greatest moments of my life, watching my parents meet my son. And Brandon's parents. Then...
Trey.
We had no idea how he'd act. We had tried to prepare him for baby Dolphin's arrival, but it was always an intangible. Did he know this would be a real person? Did he know he wasn't being replaced?
He ran in the room, right past Brandon and me, saying, "Where's Aben? Where's Aben?"
His eyes locked on the baby bed/cart, and he ran over and started to climb it, to get a good view of his brother. Someone lifted him up, he touched Aden's face and softly said, "Hi Aben."
Talk about your heart exploding.
Medicated for postpartum depression, my next several days were bliss interrupted by searing pain. Aden stayed in the nursery at night (ahem, second child), and came to me for feedings. I usually kept him after the 5AM feeding, as he was wide awake, and while Brandon slept beside us, I could talk to him and sing to him and cuddle with him. Things I never thought to do during Trey's first days.
And the rest is history.
Aden, you are such a blessing to this family. You have taught us to slow down. To let go. To take our time. To trust in God like never before. You have shown us that love really does multiply.
We love you so much. Happy Birthday.
One.
A whole year has gone by since this amazing, bubbly boy came breezing into our lives.
It seems like yesterday.
But then it seems like he's always been here.
Today I am remembering Aden's birth day. As I did with Trey, I'll share Aden's delivery story on his first birthday.
I promise you that this will not be anywhere near as nail-biting as some people's childbirthing tales. Start to finish was a bit longer than an episode of Andy Griffith (love you Kristie!). And no, I didn't beast it (love you Kelly!).
We had a scheduled C-section, basically because little me churns out comparatively large babies. Trey was 8 lb 9 oz, and though he was delivered naturally, we experienced shoulder dystocia, which can actually be very dangerous for both baby and mom. All signs pointed to Aden being another large-ish baby, so my doctor pretty much insisted on the C-section.
So the night before, we take Trey to Nana & Granddad's, and as we drive away I go into mourning. I'm betraying my biggest baby. It will never be just us again. He's going to hate me.
Brandon talks me down. Now it's time to focus. Straighten up the house, take my last shower as a mama of one, pack the hospital bag.
I can eat up until midnight, then have absolutely nothing (not even water) until after the surgery. So of course, I have scheduled a large bowl of cereal and a couple of Oreo Klondike bars to be eaten promptly at 11:30. If you know me at all, you know how very happy I was at 11:30.
Delivery day arrives. We're supposed to be at the hospital at 9:00, which means leave the house by 8:00. Didn't happen exactly that way. We leave at maybe 8:20, and because (gasp!) I hadn't fixed breakfast for him that morning, Brandon must stop at the store for some food.
Nice. Torment me, why don't you.
A little surreal, driving to the hospital calm as can be to get your baby out. I was having some contractions, so that helped a bit. Still weird, though.
Get to the hospital and sit in the waiting room for at least half an hour. I am called back to triage, change clothes and get monitored up. I am, in fact, having regular contractions. Fun!
About twenty thousand questions and an hour later, Brandon is allowed into the room. He is positively pumped about getting his scrubs. Except we are delayed. And then delayed some more.
If the thought of having gigantic needles stuck into my spine didn't cause me anguish (it did), and if the anticipation of having my body cut open wasn't stressing me out (it was), well, the delays put me over the edge.
Note to self: scared and irritated is a weird combination, and certainly isn't the way to go into major surgery.
Finally, it was our turn. I stuffed my hair into a blue cap and watched as Brandon mentally worked through putting on his paper suit. And they rolled me away from him.
Commence freak out.
Oh dear Lord.
Brandon would tell me to man up right now.
But I'm a woman.
And he's not here.
I wish he was here.
I'm not very brave.
I'm getting motion sick on this bed.
I don't want to do this.
I'm having contractions.
Can't we just turn around and see how it goes?
I'd hate myself if something went wrong.
OK, seriously people, either stop or go.
Doggone rolling bed.
I may vomit.
This is the operating room?
This is the first thing my baby will see?
It's cold.
I wish Brandon was here.
That's not an epidural.
I wanted an epidural.
Spinal?
You're going to stick me how many times?
Um, the local numbing agent isn't working.
What, are you all digging for gold back there??
This may be the worst pain I've ever felt.
Please, I need my husband.
I may pass out.
I will definitely be vomiting at some point.
Man, what a headache.
Where is Brandon?
Oh, there you are.
Those scrubs are goofy.
I'm so scared.
I feel tugging, you're missing it, stand up!
Get the camera!
I thought you people numbed me!
There he went.
I have another baby.
I feel empty now.
I hear him. Oh, praise God!
Where is he?
They are supposed to let me see him!
I need to see him!
Hair? Lots of hair?
There he is.
Wait, he's tiny!
I'm in love.
Let me see his hair.
Dark brown. He looks like me.
Oh, my heart could explode.
Please don't take him away so soon.
Brandon, go with him.
But I need you with me.
But go with him.
Here comes the vomit.
The room is spinning.
I'm sweating all over.
But I'm cold.
Am I supposed to be this tired?
When do I get to see my baby?
Everything is going dark...
I woke briefly in the recovery room, and in trying to focus on the gigantic clock on the wall at the end of the bed, realized the room was still spinning, I was still having cold sweats, and, um, get me something because I'm going to throw up again. Then sleep would come.
This scenario repeated several times for the next four and a half hours. Half-conscious, I could hear the nurse talking with different people about me. None of this was supposed to be happening. They tried giving me a few things in my IV to help, but nothing did.
I woke one time to see Brandon beside me.
He came to tell me that Aden needed to eat, but I couldn't sit up or open my eyes without vomiting. I told Brandon this felt like a migraine. He told the nurse, who thought that might make sense. They put even more medicine in my IV.
Desperate to see my baby, I asked if I might be able to nurse laying down. They brought him in.
Aden.
He was indeed hungry, and even from day one we have had no problems with feeding this little man.
Adrenaline rush or migraine medicine, I started to feel much better. Finally got out of recovery, and not an hour later, the visitors began.
Precious, precious visitors.
Now two of the greatest moments of my life, watching my parents meet my son. And Brandon's parents. Then...
Trey.
We had no idea how he'd act. We had tried to prepare him for baby Dolphin's arrival, but it was always an intangible. Did he know this would be a real person? Did he know he wasn't being replaced?
He ran in the room, right past Brandon and me, saying, "Where's Aben? Where's Aben?"
His eyes locked on the baby bed/cart, and he ran over and started to climb it, to get a good view of his brother. Someone lifted him up, he touched Aden's face and softly said, "Hi Aben."
Talk about your heart exploding.
Medicated for postpartum depression, my next several days were bliss interrupted by searing pain. Aden stayed in the nursery at night (ahem, second child), and came to me for feedings. I usually kept him after the 5AM feeding, as he was wide awake, and while Brandon slept beside us, I could talk to him and sing to him and cuddle with him. Things I never thought to do during Trey's first days.
And the rest is history.
Aden, you are such a blessing to this family. You have taught us to slow down. To let go. To take our time. To trust in God like never before. You have shown us that love really does multiply.
We love you so much. Happy Birthday.
Comments
I felt the exact same way about ruining my firstborn's life by having another baby. And it's amazing how having your babe by your side helps you forget about all your discomfort. I'm so glad you got ppd meds and could enjoy Aden's newness more.
Really beautiful story. I'm going to go read it again now. Thank you for sharing. xoxo