It began on Sunday afternoon. Rachel braved church in the morning, and successfully avoided facing too many "Why haven't you had your baby yet?" questions. We went home and busied ourselves with the Sunday paper and a few small chores; shortly thereafter, Katie McFeely stopped by on her way out of town. She had been in Chicago for a wedding, and our apartment is conveniently located on the road leading out to Ohio/Indiana/Michigan. Though she was hoping to be able to see the baby, we visited for awhile and talked much about the ordeal that was yet to come.
Late afternoon, I decided that we should go out to dinner; the induction was scheduled for early the next morning, so I knew this was our last dinner alone. Rachel has a hankerin' for some chicken wings, so we headed over to the local Buffalo Wild Wings clone on Halsted. However, the lingering crowd from the Sox game and the thought of hot wings and onion rings sitting heavy in my belly led me to call an audible and move over to Nana's, which is a relatively new restaurant that prides itself in making real food. It was a good compromise, because we ordered the "Sunday Supper" - fried chicken, biscuits, veggies, mac and cheese, and slaw. Oh yeah, and dessert. Boy was I stuffed.
I paid the check as Rachel hit the bathroom one last time. After she came out and we headed to the car, she let it slip: "I think my water just broke." She was not entirely confident of this fact, because unlike TV, there was no gush, puddle, or soaked pants for her to look at as evidence. However, she talked herself into it once we got home. She called the doctor, who offered a choice: stay home, and wait until the induction appointment, or go to the hospital now.
I loved the idea of waiting until the induction appointment. Rachel was not having contractions, so I knew the baby was not going to be born on our couch. I was stuffed, so I felt lethargic. Probably not the best feeling right before going in to have a baby, right? So even a few hours sleep sounded wonderful. Of course, the decision was not really mine, so the anxiety level of my wife was enough to have us pack up and head out.
Upon arrival, we walked into the Receiving room, and saw it was as crowded as an emergency room. I was fearful, but scanned the room and figured out that there was only 1 other actual pregnant person there. The balance of the room was apparently family, friends, and well-wishers of someone inside who decided to make this their own waiting room. Thankfully Rachel was in good spirits, or we would have been quite bothered by the lack of privacy and bickering going on between siblings and the use of a smart phone.
Within minutes we were whisked into our triage room, where the nurse confirmed that Rachel's water had broken. From there, we headed up to the 8th floor and I unloaded our belongings into the labor and delivery room. We were in room 888; coincidently, the number 8 is a particularly lucky number in China, being associated with wealth and prosperity.
Initially, we settled in comfortably; there were no painful contractions and Rachel's doctor would not be in for several more hours. The resident on call told us to turn on the TV, at which point we spent a couple hours watching the news broadcasts of Osama Bin Laden's death. I thought that if Rachel sped things up, we could have a "Bin Laden Baby." I don't think she liked that idea too much...
A little after midnight, things got more tense. A variety of factors, none of which was terribly serious, resulted in Rachel (and as a consequence, me) getting anxious. In the midst of a mild panic attack, the nurses slapped on some oxygen to calm her down and ordered the anesthegiologist to come in to start her epidural. When I came back (the anesthegiologist kicked me out), Rachel was cool as a cucumber again. She had overcome her metaphorical hump.
And so, the waiting began. I got some sleep, starting at 1am. I awoke once to the sound of a nurse setting out a torture-chamber worthy assortment of metal tools on a big metal tray. I awoke again to the sound of the nurse saying, "Oh, you are fully dialated. You are going to have a baby soon!" It was as though I was dreaming, except this time the dream was real.
Rachel's doctor came in and explained the process of pushing. Without anymore than a pause to collect our breaths, she ordered Rachel to push. I helped hold Rachel's dead leg - the anesthesia seemed to kick in on her left side much more strongly - but otherwise the work was all her. The baby crowned after only a few contractions. The doctor was effusive with praise at how quickly Rachel was getting that baby out. And with a little more encouragement, the baby was born at 5:24am...less than 40 minutes after the pushing began. Amazing!
We stayed down in the delivery room for another several hours. Rachel lost an above-average amount of blood (pushing too hard, I guess!) and so they had to sew her up and monitor her for a bit. Of course, we did not know that - and waited to make phone calls until after we moved.
Rachel immediately after delivery, with the baby.
Nonetheless, the phone rang shortly after delivery. Rachel's Dad was on the phone (with a room full of Taiwanese ladies in the background, apparently). He stalked us down and sweet talked the nurses into patching him through to our room. Ha!
The last 2 days we have been in the hospital, making the adjustment to our new lives. Feeding, changing diapers, soothing, sleeping, not sleeping...the learning begins. In a few hours we will head home. I will be off the rest of the week, and back to work the next. Rachel will then have a stream of visitors to look forward to - Kate, Katy, Becca, and my Mom. Fun!
Here are some other pictures of Andrew:
Rachel enjoyed the room service!!
Old man hands!!
Sarah and Dave - with their new nephew. They were out first visitors!
Our little pseudo-photo shoot. The hospital photographer came in to take some pictures, so we recreated her poses after we left.
Stop bothering me! I just want to sleep!!
So fast at changing diapers - I am a blur! (and nobody tell Sarah that I never helped change my nieces' diapers)
Our hospital recovey room.
Late afternoon, I decided that we should go out to dinner; the induction was scheduled for early the next morning, so I knew this was our last dinner alone. Rachel has a hankerin' for some chicken wings, so we headed over to the local Buffalo Wild Wings clone on Halsted. However, the lingering crowd from the Sox game and the thought of hot wings and onion rings sitting heavy in my belly led me to call an audible and move over to Nana's, which is a relatively new restaurant that prides itself in making real food. It was a good compromise, because we ordered the "Sunday Supper" - fried chicken, biscuits, veggies, mac and cheese, and slaw. Oh yeah, and dessert. Boy was I stuffed.
I paid the check as Rachel hit the bathroom one last time. After she came out and we headed to the car, she let it slip: "I think my water just broke." She was not entirely confident of this fact, because unlike TV, there was no gush, puddle, or soaked pants for her to look at as evidence. However, she talked herself into it once we got home. She called the doctor, who offered a choice: stay home, and wait until the induction appointment, or go to the hospital now.
I loved the idea of waiting until the induction appointment. Rachel was not having contractions, so I knew the baby was not going to be born on our couch. I was stuffed, so I felt lethargic. Probably not the best feeling right before going in to have a baby, right? So even a few hours sleep sounded wonderful. Of course, the decision was not really mine, so the anxiety level of my wife was enough to have us pack up and head out.
Upon arrival, we walked into the Receiving room, and saw it was as crowded as an emergency room. I was fearful, but scanned the room and figured out that there was only 1 other actual pregnant person there. The balance of the room was apparently family, friends, and well-wishers of someone inside who decided to make this their own waiting room. Thankfully Rachel was in good spirits, or we would have been quite bothered by the lack of privacy and bickering going on between siblings and the use of a smart phone.
Within minutes we were whisked into our triage room, where the nurse confirmed that Rachel's water had broken. From there, we headed up to the 8th floor and I unloaded our belongings into the labor and delivery room. We were in room 888; coincidently, the number 8 is a particularly lucky number in China, being associated with wealth and prosperity.
A little after midnight, things got more tense. A variety of factors, none of which was terribly serious, resulted in Rachel (and as a consequence, me) getting anxious. In the midst of a mild panic attack, the nurses slapped on some oxygen to calm her down and ordered the anesthegiologist to come in to start her epidural. When I came back (the anesthegiologist kicked me out), Rachel was cool as a cucumber again. She had overcome her metaphorical hump.
And so, the waiting began. I got some sleep, starting at 1am. I awoke once to the sound of a nurse setting out a torture-chamber worthy assortment of metal tools on a big metal tray. I awoke again to the sound of the nurse saying, "Oh, you are fully dialated. You are going to have a baby soon!" It was as though I was dreaming, except this time the dream was real.
Rachel's doctor came in and explained the process of pushing. Without anymore than a pause to collect our breaths, she ordered Rachel to push. I helped hold Rachel's dead leg - the anesthesia seemed to kick in on her left side much more strongly - but otherwise the work was all her. The baby crowned after only a few contractions. The doctor was effusive with praise at how quickly Rachel was getting that baby out. And with a little more encouragement, the baby was born at 5:24am...less than 40 minutes after the pushing began. Amazing!
We stayed down in the delivery room for another several hours. Rachel lost an above-average amount of blood (pushing too hard, I guess!) and so they had to sew her up and monitor her for a bit. Of course, we did not know that - and waited to make phone calls until after we moved.
Rachel immediately after delivery, with the baby.
Nonetheless, the phone rang shortly after delivery. Rachel's Dad was on the phone (with a room full of Taiwanese ladies in the background, apparently). He stalked us down and sweet talked the nurses into patching him through to our room. Ha!
The last 2 days we have been in the hospital, making the adjustment to our new lives. Feeding, changing diapers, soothing, sleeping, not sleeping...the learning begins. In a few hours we will head home. I will be off the rest of the week, and back to work the next. Rachel will then have a stream of visitors to look forward to - Kate, Katy, Becca, and my Mom. Fun!
Here are some other pictures of Andrew:
Little Andy sleeping tight in his swaddle!
-alan
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1 comment:
What a lovely story. I got a little teary-eyed reading it... So cool that you've got it all written down here. Congratulations, again. You guys are going to be wonderful parents. And I will the the aunt who buys him noisy, messy toys, and then leaves...
You're welcome.
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