We just got Jack home a few hours ago. It’s been a blurry couple of days. How do I even begin to write this post? How do I even keep my eyes open and my mind centered long enough to compose my thoughts? When I started this blog oh so many years ago, I never imagined that someday it’s pages would hold the photos and stories of my son . . . our son . . . our son, Jack.
So where to begin? How about from the top?
Last Wednesday was another bizarre snow day here in Portland. The roads were still treacherous and people were, for the most part, keeping to their homes. The wife didn’t go in to work that day and wasn’t feeling all too hot so she elected for a nice cozy day in bed. I worked ferociously that day, much like I had been in the days previous. I had a gut feeling that the due date was fast approaching. Time was running out. I was cramming to get as much done as possible. Around dinner time I tested out the roads (they were getting much better as the day wore on), and drove up to the Lebanese deli to pick up some dinner. Back at the ranch, I gorged myself on heaping portions of falafel, hummus, and tabuli, perhaps knowing that it might be my last meal for awhile. The misses lost interest in dinner almost instantly. In general, she was already feeling out-of-sorts. After dinner, we snuggled-in to watch The Extras on DVD. And then the fun really started.
We were about halfway through The Extras episode (the one with Samuel L. Jackson), when the misses went upstairs to go to the bathroom. She was gone a long time. I sat there staring at a paused image of Ricky Gervais pointing at something off to the right of the screen. Then the misses appeared at the bottom of the steps. She was tearing up as she whimpered softly, “My water just broke.” I walked over and we shared a nice long reassuring hug. Then we (or at least I) went into battle mode.
8:30 pm. It took us about an hour to get ourselves showered, packed, and organized for the trip to the hospital. We arrived at the maternity triage at Saint Vincent’s at about 9:30 pm. In the elevator on the way up to the maternity ward the misses had another huge gush of water breakage. Dare I say, we arriving in style!
It took awhile to get through triage. There was some confusion about whether her water did actually burst. None of the pH tests were coming back positive but her “elevator” story and the physical proof of a completely soaked maxi-pad had the nurses convinced it was go time. Also, the big whopping contractions started at this point. Our OB doctor was called to confirm that things were in motion. He arrived around Midnight, did a quick exam, stood up and said, “yup, you’re staying here. You’re already dilated to six centimeters.” Gulp.
At around 12:30 am we arrived at one of the birthing suites; a nice big room with lots of medical devices, super high powered lights, and a Skylar 1000 birthing bed. Nurse Allison was the nurse on duty and she started to get the misses prepared for an epidural. The epidural guy arrived shortly thereafter and within the hour the misses was hooked up to an IV and had a large needle stuck in and taped to her back. I usually do really poorly around needles. Hell, I’m downright lame around blood and hospitals for that matter. I was sure I would have to at least be seated if not absent for some of these procedures. But the adrenaline and the moment took over and I had no problem with any of it. When push came to shove some kind of semi-detached curiosity mojo won out and I relished every moment, every needle, every gory detail.
After the epidural, we had a few hours of calm quiet time, where we waited as Kelly’s body just did its wonderful womanly magic. I caught a few winks on a couch in the birthing room but not many. Around 5:00 am the nurse did another exam on the misses and she was proceeding nicely to 9cm of dilation. The nurse was a little concerned that the misses’ contractions were not as regular as she would have liked. She suggested, in full nurse jargon, “A whiff of Pit” or rather, a few drops of Pitocin to get things regular and even. We agreed to the “whiff of pit”, and within minutes of the Pitocin coming down the IV the contractions were evened out and increasing in strength.
6:00 am. 10 cm of dilation. Time to start pushing.
Here, things get a little hazy. I was in full coaching mode, helping the misses though each contraction. For each contraction there were three pushes back-to-back with a deep breath in between. One of my jobs was to do a 10-count for each of the pushes. Words of encouragement flowed out of me like I was Gene Hackman in Hoosiers. Words, that in any other context would have sounded so foolish, the misses and I would not have been able to keep a straight face.
1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … 7 … 8 … 9 … 10
And so we went for three fun filled hours. Baby Jack was moving, but he was taking it very slow. The misses was a champ and persevered way beyond what I thought humanly possible. At around 8:30 am we could all start to see Jack’s head starting to make an appearance. However the doc said that he still probably had about a half hour to 45 minutes to go. The misses was spent. The doc said that a little vacuum suction would get him out in no time at all. Team Skelton agreed this was a good plan B strategy. The doc got a good suction attachment on baby Jack’s huge mellon. The wife gave two more rounds of pushing and with the doctor pulling . . . squish . . . plop . . . WAAAAAAA, out he popped.
8:53 am.
Welcome home, son.
The story doesn’t end there but that’s all I’ve got time for now. I’m getting an urgent memo over the baby monitor from the new CEO of our family. I’m still having trouble deciphering his accent but it sounds like lunch is being ordered.