And Then There Were Three

Or, I could title this post, Happy Birthday Thomas.

Here's the beginning of the story of this sweet boy:

5 Weeks

Five years ago John and I enjoyed a relaxed conversation on the way to the hospital to have our first baby.  It was 2 am, and my water had broken at midnight so we decided we might as well head over to the hospital since we had no idea how long to expect.  We laughed about the driving conditions and how we had anticipated a more intense drive.  No pain, traffic, weather, or speeding.  It was annoying that I felt tightness in my back but never felt a contraction stay or begin and end.  How can you measure fleeting moments of tightness?

We arrived at the hospital and as I got up and started walking I started actually feeling the contractions.  John walked ahead and nurses asked him if I wanted a wheelchair.  "No, she's fine," came John's relaxed reply.  I started to wonder if I really was as fine as he said.  We finished check-in and I continued to pace and bounce on my nifty bouncy ball while we waited.  I thought having a baby couldn't really be as bad as people said.  After all, I'm tougher than most people, right?  After awhile the pain became intense and I heard my before-labor thoughts mocking me.  It was really so bad!  

Enjoying an Ice Cream Cone in a tree at Grandma's House

Once I was pretty sure I felt like dying, I told my nurse I changed my mind and wanted the drugs after all.  Everything after 5 am is a complete blur as far as the passage of time, so I really have no idea, but I think this was around 5:30 am or so.  I kept wondering how long is this going to take?!  No one is telling me when I'm going to be done and how can I successfully cross the finish line if there is no finish line in sight!  Finally the nurse came, and asked me if I was sure I wanted drugs since I was at an 8.  I thought that sounded like really good news, but still felt like dying, and besides I couldn't sum up my voice from the abyss of pain.  The contractions were just one on top of the other, only a couple breaths in between.  I couldn't still my breathing or think or anything before the next attack.  She waited through my silence, then told John to call her if I replied and she'd summon the anesthesiologist.  I'm sure she knew I was going to have my baby pretty soon, and not rushing the drugs in if she could was her way of supporting me in my decision to have an unmedicated birth.

I thought I was going to throw up; I held my breath.  My nose and appendages went numb, and then around 7 am the glorious sun came out and eradicated the darkness and seemingly used it's power to eradicate the pain as well.  The light filled our room with hope and the idea of a future beyond this difficult moment.  Plus I got some oxygen which was convenient since I was hyperventilating.  It was time to push, hence the pain-relief.  The baby was no longer pushing and pushing and moving downward and downward.  Now he was all done getting ready and it was my turn to just shoo him out into the big world.  

Pacific Grove, CA

The nurse taught me what pushing was all about and said it was too bad that the doctor wasn't there because he's usually there for that part.  I was surprised and asked her to what part she was referring.  She answered with, "The part where you push the baby out."  I couldn't believe she thought somehow that this was all going to end, and soon!  Was there a finish line, after all?  Finally, only a couple minutes later, the doctor came in and told me we were in a big hurry to get the baby out because his blood pressure was falling, so I should do my best (or something like that,) so he wouldn't have to "do anything."  The thought of the doctor having to "do anything" did seem like a bad idea, so I pushed the baby out, apparently much to the surprise of everyone else.  The doctor had said he was in a hurry, hadn't he meant it?  

So the doctor did his job and caught the baby and I asked him to hand over the little guy which he did.  The feeling of our world suddenly going from two to three was evident in tiny moment and we hugged and stared at the new creature.  His face was squished and I asked Dr G if he didn't look just like a little alien.  The doctor and nurse exchanged glances which gave me to know comparing your little one to an alien life-form is a birthing faux-paux in this country.  Or at least, in that hospital.  It was 7:20 am.  Our little angel Thomas was 7 pounds and 20 inches.  His tiny features looked so beautiful and receptive.  When I gave him to John for the first time John cradled the baby in his arms up high by his left shoulder as he stared at him without daring to move Thomas an inch up or down as he gently walked the floor.  It was as though one wrong breath could shatter our new little doll.  The little doll seemed to hold his head up from birth.  His movements were very strong and he would turn his eyes in my direction, looking looking looking but not seeing me when I would speak out of his line of sight.  My mom was amazed at his newborn abilities but I couldn't appreciate them until I had future babies that acted like newborns at birth, and who's sweet floppy little heads and necks needed support.

Installation Art

The next day we finally took him home.  I sat with him in the living room and talked to him while he stared at his arm waving in the air.  As his arm would arch up toward his face he would startle and stare at it wondering what it could be.  Then it would slowly wave down again only to come gently arching back up towards his head.  He would blink and blink at it again and repeat the cycle.  It seemed an eternity until he could smile, and then sit up on his own.  

From his earliest months, everywhere we went people would say, "Wow, he's so alert!"  I started to wonder why no one used a synonym for alert, and if he secretly had a sign announcing his alertness.  He would sit tall and miniature in shopping carts and make direct eye contact with strangers, who did their duty and declared him alert, talked to him, and then continued their consumer quests.  He was fascinated by anything they would say and he especially smiled at other people who wore glasses like Mom.

Old Town San Diego, CA

Thomas has always loved people and playing at other children's houses.  He begs for friends to come play all the time and loves it when he gets to see cousins or other children at a park.  He loves to play pretend, especially as a fireman, chief, policeman, cowboy, or superhero.  He takes things very seriously and asks questions constantly, including deep impossible ones, like "Where did God come from?"  He is always asking about God and Santa Claus.  One minute he'll be explaining about the North Pole, and the next he'll say, I don't think Santa exists because no one's ever seen him.  He wants very much for Santa Claus to be real, but he doesn't believe in magic and can't understand how the big man can deliver all his gifts in one night.  Mostly the logistics of a flying sleigh are problematic for him.  First of all, reindeer can't fly (apparently) and secondly the sleigh doesn't have wings or rotors.  Since magic isn't real, it can't be that.  Then he'll change his mind and say the sleigh does have wings or something helps Mr. C out.

Love you Thomas!