This is what really happened.

Cheri’s last few clinic appoitments were pointing to an induction. Possible preeclampsia was the chief concern here, although I’ll save the drama now and say that — as of today — it appears we avoided any major issues. Last Monday, our doctor decided we would need to just go ahead and schedule an admit to Labor and Delivery for Friday. She warned us not to expect too much on the first day of the admit. Sometimes these things can go “for days”. As it turns out, I had talked to some friends who had experiences like this; under 48 hours is not the norm for such procedures.

So, yeah, all week it was difficult to grasp that the due date, while vague in the specifics, was clear in the obvious: the baby would be here shortly. Likely within a week. Or even sooner.

On Friday morning, we got up early. Cheri called Labor and Delivery and confirmed an open room. So, no speeding car, no going nuts. We even set aside time for breakfast out that morning. At nine we showed up at Labor and Delivery with our luggage.

Disclosure: I work for the hospital where Cheri delivered. So, no disparaging remarks will be found, here or anywhere, about this place. Not that any are forthcoming. It’s an interesting place; the managerial philosophy subscribes to a Walt Disney approach to customer service. Concierge service, meals a-la carte. It’s a sort-of shotgun wedding of the Ritz-Carlton and your family MD’s office.

We check in, and are directed to room 7. Already, I’m sure Cheri’s grandfather will be pleased. We were supposed to have the baby on Friday the 13, and my superstitious in-law expressed some concern over this. The first day, to sum up for you now, was absolutely ALMOST non-eventful. Cheri was given a medication to start contractions, and three doses later, Cheri and I were convinced we were gonnaa be here until next Wednesday.

I said almost. At 9:00, the docs made their evening rounds and informed us it would be good to get rest, because tomorrow would be when the action would start. Fair enough. Cheri tucked in, and I stretched out on the couch. I was watching television at 9:50 when Cheri informed me that, well, either she wet herself, or her water broke. It was a pretty profuse flow of liquid. It seemed evident, but we got the nurse to come in. Within 10 minutes the docs were back and confirmed, yes, that would be the water breaking, and cool… maybe this extra work won’t be necessary. We also came across one of those factoids you don’t hear everyday: water breaks, and keeps on breaking until the baby comes.

We were able to rest a little longer. Specifically, I rested, while Cheri tried to rest but also tried to gauge her contractions. At two in the morning on Saturday, I woke up to discover the night MD crew in the room, evaluating Cheri again. Now, I can’t stress enough how awesome it would be if the contractions progressed normally. Cheri could remain mobile, take a whirlpool bath (they had that set up in every private room as part of that Disney hotel thing) and be off monitors. However, that dream disappeared when Cheri wound up needing to start Pitocin to start moving this process along. Having reviewed that the combination of the Pitocin and the fact that her water broke would make contractions more painful, Cheri elected to start an Epidural.

The next day was a mirror opposite of the placid Friday we just experienced. Cheri did have a restful morning, but soon the epidural was no match for the brute force of nature. The Pitocin didn’t help matters, either. Further, the doctors confirmed the baby was under stress when Cheri laid on her right side; the left side was the one and only position she could safely remain, medically. Lying on her back was out; ten minutes of that, and Cheri warmed up like a chili pepper and became nauseated. Cheri started the morning about four-and-a-half centimeters dilated; by the evening, she was in intense pain and only six centimeters. It wasn’t looking good. A whole day Cheri spent with an oxygen mask on, unable to move. Even a mild movement would trip an alarm, or at least make her want to vomit. A couple of calls out to the team led to a determination that her epidural needed adjustment. While this provided some relief, it wasn’t enough.

At around six-thirty in th evening, the night shift MDs came in. A quick evelaution showed that Cheri’s cervix was not going to dilate to let the baby move out naturally. Then and there, the decision was made to go forth with a Cesarian. This was not something we came to lightly, not after that whole day. Cheri made it clear at that point she was ready to go and make this happen. Moments later, Cheri was whisked off to the O.R., where they removed the epidural and did a spinal block. I was instructed to scrub in; I could be there after they prepped Cheri.

I hung out, dressed like a doctor, waiting for the word. A father from another room even approached me and asked for some assistance. Of course, I didn’t try to pass myself off as anything other than a scared future dad.

It the room, Cheri lay on the table, the procedure underway. She was awake in good spirits, although she reported to me later she was very sleepy and didn’t remember much. It was the first time in several days she was pain-free. Within moments of entering, I watched our son being lifted from her abdomen, and moments later, we heard our baby cry for the very first time.

It only took, oh, several months. We converted our old office into the nursery.

Four weeks (approximately) before the due date, I can safely say we are on our way.

I’ll be back in just a bit. Some internal upgrades are needed.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I actually walked away feeling I learned a few things. I appreciate knowing how many diapers we’ll probably go through in three days (41, give or take). Or that baby powder is no longer recommended. Or that giving a child a pacifier could reduce SIDS significantly. We changed a few diapers on baby dolls. Cheri was a pro from years of having her own dolls growing up. I’ve changed a few adult briefs as part of a job I had years ago, so I’m hoping changing my own chid’s briefs will be less harrowing by comparison.

Today, we’ll be heading up to my mother’s place. We’ll be moving some furniture around (well, I’ll be doing that. Cheri will not be). My mom aunt have provided for my grandma the past few years. my uncle Robert died several months ago, and so my grandma has elected to move in permanently with my aunt. Hence the need to move her furniture there. At the end of this move, my aunt is giving us a dresser and table that we’ll use for the new nursery. We started moving furniture last weekend in preparation for this.

For me, building the nursery is a big deal. Not that it’s difficult, just momentous. The baby is well into her second trimester. Early on, when we let people know about the pregnancy, most were happy with the news, but we were often told to be careful, because “things can happen”. Those gentle warnings have evaporated as the summer wears on. I feel, at 22 weeks, we’re steamrolling into fall, but there’s still time to take things slow and do things with care.

The ultrasound was at 10:30. This was all driven by the techs, with our MD doing a follow-up visit just a half-hour afterward. Cheri’s been nervous about this, and I don’t blame her. I think I choose not to worry about anything until there is something to worry about; I kept that attitude until we entered the clinic and, bam, we went right into the ultrasound room. The techs were understandably poker-faced during the session. Added to that, this visit was handled by the tech-in-training, who whispered back and forth with her lead instructor. This was stressful for Cheri and I. I have no knowledge of what makes a “good” ultrasound visit, but I do know what it means to instruct interns and students, so I relaxed after a while. At the end, we were informed everything looked normal. Our baby continues to move around a lot, just as she did during the first sonogram, now so many weeks ago.

And, of course, we were open to the inforamtion that we are having a girl. Cheri and I decided a while back we have no desire to wait on this information. My logic is simple: the baby has fingers, toes, a spine, so it goes without saying we want to know the sex as well. It adds to the comfort of knowing who our child is.

I took the whole day off, and so now we are at home, getting ready to take a dip in the pool.

This is a pretty big deal for us, as we’ve been asked routinely if we’ve felt any movement yet. Cheri was glowing with excitement. All I could do was act as a witness to this, and wonder how it must feel for her. “We” may be pregnant, but she’s certainly front-and-center. I did take a picture of the moment (at least, shortly after), which I will post soon.