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| Daddy holding Henry in the recovery room. |
Amy, Evan and I are pleased to announce the arrival of Henry William Keller. He was reluctantly pulled into this world on May 27th at 7:00pm. Needless to say, his birth process was full of trial, drama and a scare (similar to the delivery of Evan). However, that is all behind us and we are now blessed with a beautiful, healthy boy.
After extending five days pasted her due date, Amy finally started experiencing some regular contractions around 8pm on Thursday evening. We didn't want to jump to conclusions, so we settled in with our new contraction app for the next several hours until the pattern finally showed 5 minute intervals for greater than an hour. At this point, we placed the phone call to my parents for babysitting help to watch Evan. It was also this time when I began to question if I had enough fuel in my car to make it to the hospital. I had topped off the tank on his due date, but we were pushing a week late at this point. Oops...just enough fuel.
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| Mommy and baby with skin-to-skin time. |
Sometime around 1:00am, Amy, her mom and I headed off to the hospital. Much like the first delivery, Amy insisted on walking into the hospital without the help of a wheelchair. Once registered, we spent the next 3 hours confined to a 9x9 cell in the triage area while the hospital staff conveniently ignored Amy's labor and discussed more important topics outside of our door...like new craft ideas, gossip about coworkers and boys. As Amy labored through the pains, I'm pretty sure she wanted to throw something at the staff.
Fortunately, the gush of fluid (water breaking) that almost flooded the room (slight exaggeration) got their attention. Before long, we were placed in a HUGE labor and delivery room with an amazing staff of nurses. I remember looking at the mini-couch/pull-out bed thinking "why in the hell would that be in here". In my naive mind, I thought we would be pushing soon and holding the baby shortly.
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| Mima holds cute little Henry. |
After the doctor arrived and met with us, I spoke to her privately in the hall to discuss pain medication options without bringing them up in front of Amy. The doctor told me that based on the clinical data, we were looking at another 12 hours before she would be ready to push. Huh? Amy was fighting hard from contraction to contraction with only a two minute break in between. Twelve more hours??
Eventually, I learned to appreciate the couch by tucking my knees to my chest and mimicking the fetal position. This allowed me to sleep in 15 minute intervals. Amy was eventually comforted by the pearls of modern pain medicine. Now it became a waiting game of: monitor heart rates, turn Amy over, assess and repeat.
Throughout the next 11 hours, we all became very cognizant of the rapid pulsing sound of the baby's heart rate. Whenever it slowed below the rhythm of a fast tango, we all jumped up to watch the monitor drop dangerously low into the 70's. Our angel nurse would come bounding through the door moments later to quickly adjust Amy's position and the baby's heart rate would soon accelerate back to acceptable levels...the dance continued. This is a very scary and humbling acoustic recognition, especially given our experience with Evan's birth.
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| Grandma Long snuggles with the little peanut. |
We continued down this road for the next 11 hours. We had great support from our families and tried hard to keep others updated with text messages and phone calls. Every hour revealed a slow progress toward full dilation. We seemed to be going in the right direction...albeit slow.
Sometime around 6:30pm, our usually chatty and extremely cool-headed nurse came bounding through the door with a different demeanor. This time she was verbally spouting off clinical concerns that began to paint a picture of rapid c-section. As we wrestled to grasp this new overload of information, our trusted doctor came running into the room and said we're going to the OR now. It was very apparent that this was not a discussion, this was a medical emergency (I later found out that she thought Amy's uterus was about to rupture...in fact post surgery she told me that the uterine wall was only 1mm thick). My heart completely sank for Amy. She had worked so hard over the last few months and past 23 hours to
manage a successful VBAC experience. Now, that dream was being ripped away and she would once again be faced with the long road of recovery from surgery. However, we both knew without a doubt that we needed to take whatever steps to assure the safety of her and the baby.
Once again, I watch my world come crashing down as the room filled with keyed up medical professionals shouting orders, calling for more help and quickly whisking my wife away toward a hastfully prepped operating room. As a paramedic, I know this tone of emergency all too well. It is the time when all medical professionals shed all of the ancilary patient care skills and dig deep into their skill set to leverage that no-nonsense, level-head professional that they can transform into when the proverbial stuff has hit the fan.
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| Aunt Casey and her little man. |
I was rushed into a pair of surgical coveralls, mask, shoe covers and cap. Then came the three minutes where they sit "dad" in a wooden chair outside the OR doors while staff from all throughout the hospital rush down the hall, grab a mask and back through the swinging doors where my wife is quickly being strapped down and prepped. I now refer to this wooden chair as the "God chair". Not because some medical ego or other reference. Because this is the chair where I (and presumably many other fathers) have dug so deep into our soul to plead for help and support from God. I prayed and tried to connect from a level that has only existed once before...22 months ago to the hour when I sat here preparing for the delivery of my first son.
In less than three minutes, my hasted prayers were concluded and I was rushed to a stool next to Amy's head. I tried very hard to connect with my wife through the touch of our hands, staring into her eyes and any comforting words that I could muster. At this point, the only visable section of my wife to support was her head and arms. All other areas with blocked with the blue sheet that shed me from the surgical act of extracting my son. Within two minutes of sitting on the small stool, there was a commotion of jumbled voices and the strong cry of a new born's first wail into the world. The lump in my stomach quick moved up to my throat at this point. The amazing staff quickly assured Amy and I that we had a healthy, beautiful and hairy son. One milestone was complete, but Amy was quickly fighting to battle off the effects of the medicine and being opened up to the elements.
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| Evan at the hospital for the first time. |
The hours that followed contained a stark contrast of exuberance with the birth of our our son and the struggle of Amy to recover from the effects of surgery and anistisa. We were transfered to a regular Mother/Baby room that would be our home for the next four days.
As for the exciting part, Henry is a beautiful little boy (yes, I'm biased). He was born weighing 8 pounds, 7 ounces and measuring 21 inches long. He has continued to thrive and adapt to his new world. Momma and baby are both doing well and on the path to recovery.
We are blessed with an amazing support structure of family and friends. I hate to quote Hillary Clinton, but we have "a village" to help raise our children. Thanks to everyone for their prayers, thoughts, letters and calls.
More updates to follow...
Evan came to the hospital on Sunday to meet his new baby brother for the first time. Aside from nerviously chucking the baby gift (rattle) across the room, he did great! He received two gifts "from the baby" and loved playing with both of them. He held Henry's hand and even asked to kiss the baby before he left.
One additional photo that I have to tie in here was taken a few days ago by Aunt Dani as Carter and Evan played golf in their yard. Because Evan is so skinny, we have trouble finding pants that actually fit. Apparently these pants were too big! Check out the look on Carter's face as Evan lost his pants during his golf swing.
