Black Friday 2011 was a busy time of the year for everyone. Most of the world was out trying to scavenge for the latest bargains, many with the intention of surprising a loved one with a shiny new gift. For our family, the day after Thanksgiving was completely different. As thankful as we'd been while gorging ourselves on stuffing, we were ready for a new arrival; a gift God had been crafting for the larger part of the year. A new face, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that could convince the coldest heart to give them anything they wanted. While we knew what was coming, we were excited to get to know WHO was coming. We had no idea that the face would be so symmetrical, or the fingers and toes so long and slender. Nothing could have prepared us for the first time we saw those blue/gray/green eyes for the first time, or to hold that tiny bundle of warmth close to our hearts. Additionally, nothing could have provided us notice that Black Friday this year would be a day, not of consumption and instant gratification as most of the planet would experience it, but of patience, as our little man was determined it was not his day yet, preferring to be only one day ahead of the doctor's initial schedule for his growth.
Truth be told, our arrival at room 3009 would not reach a climax until 22 hours had passed waiting. With Jonathan being born at 5:11 on the day after. The waiting party grew and waned and grew again, as some were certain he'd arrive any minute, while others decided it a good opportunity to run the quick errand. We have all of them recorded on a fingerprint tree that is about to hang in his room any day now. The entire event was on God's timing, naturally, but we were oblivious to the distance that included, only adding to the anticipation.
I have not prefaced the amount of time to bore you with what might seem to be mundane details of what one does when faced with waiting over the course of nearly a full day, except to tell you that it consisted of a lot of napping, book reading, eager conversation, and snacks (for everyone but Mollie.) I found that the strength of one's love is tested most effectively when they watch the target of that emotion in pain. I was proud of us though, as Mollie was a real trooper, and I only cried twice. Once was when her contractions really started kicking in, and the other which I will detail shortly.
Regardless of how many people were waiting on the special event, for all I knew, there were only three members of the family involved. I hunkered down with the mother-in-law and watched nurses and a handful of family members come and go, and up until about 11 P.M., saw no change whatsoever in my wife other than the pain and aggravation she accrued from being locked into the frame of a bed for so long. The nurses were amazingly supportive and uplifting, but it was still a chore for the rest of us.
Naturally, looking back, I would do it a hundred times if we saw the same result, but that's beside the point. Mollie was in great spirits, given the circumstances, but as the night wore on, we kept telling her to rest, and she'd respond with complaints about our whispering. "How is anybody supposed to get any rest with all of this whispering going on?" She interjected; "psspssspssspssspss, that's all I hear." In response, I started sending her mother text messages. I would break out my smartphone and fly through a message, and she would reply with her flip phone, which as you can imagine, was an exercise in patience in itself.
At around 7 P.M. they switched to stronger medicine, dedicated to maintaining a schedule of adding a little to the dosage every half hour. To reach what anyone would consider a maximum dosage, this put us on pace for around 3 A.M. The doctor came in and proclaimed that we should be ready for along night, and given the amount of progress we'd seen at that point, we decided that if anyone wanted to go home and return the next morning, it was understandable. At around 11:30, the nurses decided it was time to have the doctor take another look. He made the determination that it was time for him to intervene further, so he began the next step at 11:57 P.M. At this point, my wife was in tremendous pain, and that's when I lost it. I stayed strong in the room, but they decided it was time for the epidural, and I walked just outside the door and fell apart. I walked down the hall to the waiting room, and I highly doubt that anyone there anticipated that I had anything joyful in my near future.
Thankfully, I had plenty to be joyful about coming more quickly than I knew. With her IPOD dying, I gave her mine, devoid of any of her playlists, and set the only song I knew would be of any comfort to play, Godsend by DC Talk. Her mother, in all of her wisdom, advised me to get some rest so I'd be ready when I was needed, so I propped back in the surprisingly comfortable flat back recliner they had in the room. After what seemed like seconds had passed, it was 3:45 in the morning and the nurse arrived to inform us that it was time to start. With me and her mother on either side, I watched my wife use energy reserves that I am convinced came from above. She pushed for an hour and I watched the entire thing. If I can give any advice to prospective fathers, it would be to absorb every second you can of the process, as it will change your life.
At about five minutes after five, the nurse asked her to hang on while they retrieved the doctor. In one seemed to be three fluid motions, he threw on his scrubs, took a seat, and caught our son. I stood there stunned, reminded by my wife that it would be acceptable to go watch them clean up our new baby boy. Thankfully, I did not take a single picture, but we have some great shots of the occasion to remember it by. I was the first in the family to hold him and carry on a one-sided conversation with him, and it was the greatest thing ever (at least at that point, as he already has quite a few competing moments at a month old.)
At that point, the family came back to see him for the first time, and the majority of us followed him to the nursery to gawk at him a bit more. In a matter of hours, they moved us to room 307, where we'd spend time until Monday afternoon. It seemed surreal to get a shower and hold a tiny extension of your own DNA. It seemed like all to often the nursery workers would whisk him away to be poked, examined, and measured, but it only made it that much sweeter in the time we did spend with him.Family visited briefly and then left us alone. A photographer that roams the halls took some great first day photographs of our little man, one of which now brightens nearly every once darkened corner in our home. Again, we were introduced to shifts of nurses that we would see day after day, but they showed us courtesies that we had now come to expect from the hospital staff. We made trips to the gift shop, picking up a baby's first Christmas stocking and Fairbanks the Penguin along with the occasional snack. We made good use of the Chick-fil-a downstairs, including Mollie's first meal when she was allowed.
We found out he was jaundiced, so he had to sleep on a bili blanket, earning the nickname of our little glow worm. Even when he glowed, he was so quiet. The nurses proclaimed that he was one of the best behaved children they'd ever seen. We were convinced he'd be sleeping through the night as soon as we got home. That's not quite the case, but he would be considered anything but fussy.
The rest of the story includes diaper changes and feedings, and sleeping, of which I found out I am very talented. I could sleep through anything, no matter how many times he cried. It's a good thing my wife was available. I have offered to wake up at her prodding, but she does not take advantage of that with much frequency. They released Mollie on Sunday but informed us that Jonathan had to enjoy an extra day at the Chateau de 'Ospital, so we ordered pizza hut delivery and made good use of the intense amount of free Sprite the hospital kept in stock.
The perfect end to this story happened. On Monday morning, Jonathan was released, but we had to wait for a bili blanket to take home for a few days. We waited for hours for the delivery guy and he showed up, just as it was beginning to snow. God had dealt me an interesting hand. Drive home on a route that was unfamiliar, carrying the most precious cargo one could ponder, and do it in blizzard like conditions. Granted, the accumulation was not to that level, but somebody forgot to tell my windshield.
