But, geez, these babies are really time consuming. They actually want to eat every day. And be changed, more than once a day. Who knew?
But we'll try to tell you a little about the day that Mark was born.
Something's happening!
Sunday, Sept. 20, started for Lynne at around 6:30 a.m. when she felt like she had to go to the bathroom. Or was it contractions? She wasn't sure. She used the bathroom and the pressure was still there. That left only one option. So, she ate a little breakfast, waited a little while longer (to make sure), then decided to wake up Matt.
"Matt," she said, gently shaking him. "Honey."
"Hmmm..grmblphjf."
"Matt…"
"Slruvurvlupmh."
"Matt. Something's happening..."
"What?! Oh my God! Is there gas in the car? I'll go get air in the tires. Did we pack the bags? Where are the plugs for the phone?"
Matt then proceeded to run around the house, trying to remember...anything at all. He would have settled for what was supposed to go into Lynne’s bag, how far apart the contractions were supposed to be before they went to the hospital, or simply the names they had picked for their child. Any thoughts would been helpful.
Instead, he ran around the house like a lunatic, picking up things and trying to decide if they would need them at the hospital. The computer? A lamp? The dog? Of course, whenever he would be in sight of Lynne, he would walk cool and slow, like everything was normal. She was totally fooled.
Off to the hospital
When Lynne woke Matt, the contractions were between 12 and 17 minutes apart. They were irregular and not terribly painful. The magic number to go to the hospital was a steady five minutes apart. So, they waited.
Matt got gas, loaded the bags in the car and called the soon-to-be grandparents and aunts. Meanwhile, the contractions kept coming - more often and more painful. Lynne said they felt like a giant rubber band tightening up around her waist.
By 9:30 a.m., Lynne was doubled over on the stairs, waiting out 30- to 60-second-long contractions that were coming steadily every three or four minutes. It was at this point that Matt forgot the few remaining facts still rattling around in his oversized skull. The lessons from the classes they had taken were gone. His address - vanished. The ability to tell a house key from a car key - inaccessible.
It was terrible watching his wife in pain, knowing there's nothing he could do about it. Obviously, viewing is preferable to being the person actually in pain, but it was a helpless and useless feeling. It would only get much, much more uncomfortable.
She's having a baby!
The drive to the hospital was interesting. Matt drove down major streets of Naperville at parade float speed. Old ladies were honking at him and one may have flipped the bird. And, although they had driven there two dozen times or more, and despite the fact that it was less than three miles from their home, Matt could not remember how to get to the hospital. But, of course, they made it in one piece, because Lynne was cool and collected.Matt dropped Lynne at the front door, parked the car and then came back to walk her in. Once inside, Matt announced to three very startled candy stripers behind the desk: “She’s having a baby!”
Then, these high school kids ran around grabbing wheelchairs, acting nervous and flustered. In retrospect, maybe these kids shouldn’t have been so surprised, since many mothers-to-be come in the same door and Lynne’s belly was a significant clue. (“She swallowed a basketball!” “She’s ate way too much Jello-o!”)
But, for a moment, it was just like the movies.
After being wheeled to the fourth floor, Lynne went to an admitting nurse who had to determine whether she was far enough along to stay at the hospital. Well, Lynne was doubled over in pain unable to talk, kneeling on the floor and dilated to 5 centimeters - half way to Baby Town. So, everyone got to stay.
Then, the hospital began to torture Lynne. Of course, they weren't really picking on her. In fact, Matt and Lynne have nothing but compliments for Edward Hospital. But once she was admitted, nurses started poking and prodding Lynne - an IV shoved in her arm; a monitor above and below her belly; a woman pushing on her stomach. The contractions were hitting full force.
Again, Matt stood on the sidelines, feeling fine, watching the torture, trying to decide whether Lynne might later think it was fun to have some video footage of this. (She wouldn't, so he didn't.)
An epidural decision
By 11:45 a.m., they moved Lynne over to the luxury birthing suite, a huge room with a shower, full size couch and a flat screen TV. The contractions were really bad at this point. It would be many more hours before anyone understood why.
Lynne was pale, sweating and clearly in agony. Coming in, Lynne had made a plan to hold off on getting an epidural for as long as possible. Lynne and Matt had watched a surprisingly good documentary called The Business of Being Born, which talked about how the increase in interventions (like epidurals) has lead to more C-sections - something Lynne was desperately trying to avoid. (The theory goes that an epidural to ease pain also slows down contractions, so then doctors give pitocin to induce or speed up contractions. The battling drugs lead to fetal distress, then a C-section.)
Throughout the pregnancy, Matt wondered: what will childbirth feel like? Is it worse than breaking a leg? How much worse is it than having your appendix out? Does it compare to running a marathon? Well, Matt hasn't had a contraction and Lynne hasn't run a marathon, but from Matt's perspective running looks like tiddlywinks.
So, Lynne got the epidural. At the time, she felt like she had let herself down, that she had caved, that she had maybe even slowed down the process. She was upset with herself.
But, boy, did she feel good. The color immediately came back to her cheeks. She could talk. She made jokes. She chatted with the nurse, who predicted the baby would be born before her shift ended at 7 p.m.
And Lynne didn't feel a thing below her hips. The pain vanished. And, best of all, the contractions continued. By checking the monitors on her stomach, doctors could tell she was still having strong, regular contractions. But no pain. Thank you, science.
From that point, the day finally seemed to slow down a little. Lynne continued to dilate and her readings looked good. By 2 p.m., Lynne actually said she was bored. Without much to do, Matt was breathing easier and watched the end of the Bears game.
And by then, the Hanleys, the Seagos, Megan and Leslie were out in the waiting room. Matt was keeping them and Lynne’s sister Laura (who lives in Florida) up-to-date with text messages. In the tiny waiting room, everyone's phone would buzz with an alert. Matt saved the messages so you can get a feel for what happened next:
10:35 a.m. off to the hospital
12:16 p.m. She’s doing good. She’s at five.
2:04 p.m. Seven centimeters. Water still hasn’t broke. Everyone’s doing good.
3:22 p.m. Not much to report here. Lynne still has her water.
4:09 p.m. Nine centimeters!! Water still hasn’t broke. Lynne’s doing great.
5:58 p.m. No news to report here.
6:04 p.m. Thanks for the team spirit. Lynne’s doing great. Say hi to everyone.
6:13 p.m. Water just broke. Head is down. Doc is on the way!
But then...nothing.
For an hour, then two hours. The families waited in the lobby with no word from Matt or Lynne or the doctors. At first, no one was surprised because they assumed everyone was in the middle of some heavy duty work. But when it went past two hours, people started to stir.
The sisters - who don’t have kids - asked if this long of a wait was normal. The moms were worried.
They knew from 9.5 to 10 centimeters is the fastest part of labor. But there were no calls. No text messages. Not even a carrier pigeon. Just silence.
In the room
Throughout Lynne's pregnancy Matt didn't find himself daydreaming much about the baby. He didn't know the gender or what he/she would look like, so it was too abstract for him to imagine. But, he did think a lot about the day they would go to the hospital. Besides the anxiety, Matt visualized seeing the baby for the first time, after Lynne's hard work. He pictured holding the little guy or girl with Lynne, during the new family’s first moments. He thought about introducing the baby to his/her grandparents.
Things didn't quite go that way, despite Lynne's best efforts. Not long after that last text message, Lynne began pushing. Modesty was long gone and it was time to get this baby out. Now.
They backed off the epidural so she could feel the contractions.
Matt held the right leg, and a very sweet but annoying nurse held the left. The nurse would wait for the contractions to start and then - in a high, cutesy voice - say:
"And pushpushpushpushpush! two three four five six seven eight nine ten.”
Lynne would take a breath.
“And pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four five six seven eight nine ten."
This went on for half an hour, then the doctor would come in and check. Sorry, no progress. Lynne changed positions, laying on her side.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...
Ten more minutes.
Nothing.
An hour passed and this baby had not budged.
Each time the lovely and talented Dr. Frangella (at right) checked, you could see the disappointment on her face. Lynne became more and more determined. Matt could see the sweat pooling up on her neck as he held her oxygen mask in place. Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...
Ten more minutes.
Nothing.
And then Dr. Frangella started to get worried. The baby's heart rate was rising during the contractions, which was normal. But it was dipping too low between contractions, which was concerning.
She gave Lynne 10 more minutes to make progress."We're on C-section prevention here," Lynne said as she shifted.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four... 10 minutes passed. Dr. Frangella looked nervous and looked at Lynne. Lynne asked for 10 more minutes.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...
Nothing.
No movement.
Dr. Frangella apologized and assured Lynne she had one of the lowest C-section rates in the hospital. But it was time to try something different. This baby was not budging.
She offered Lynne and Matt five minutes together to talk things over. But what choice did they have? The doctors came back into the room, Lynne said she was ready. People descended on the room like there was a rum raid, swarming in through both doors.
“I’m here to pack your belongings!” “Dad, I need you to put on this body suit, hair net and surgical mask.” “Mom, I’m here to shave you.” “I need to put these socks on your feet.” “I’m here to hook up a monitor.” “Drink this.” “Wear this.” “Wash this.”
Matt had seen a lot of emotions on Lynne's face that day, but this was first time he had seen her look scared.
Baby Boy Hanley
We'll spare you most of the details of the C-section other than to say it was, of course, a difficult for everyone involved. Matt was never so proud and thinks Lynne is the toughest lady he ever met.
Lynne was wheeled into the operating room with her arms strapped down. The doctors did a great job and Lynne was lucid long enough to hear a little cry and hear the doctor say: "It's a boy."
Then, the doctor upped the pain medication and Lynne slipped off to one of the levels of Super Mario Land.
Between seeing his wife in pain and the arrival of a boy, it was very emotional for Matt. It had been a long day - it was almost 10 p.m. when Mark finally arrived - and an exhausting one. So, when the doctors asked Matt what the baby's name was, but he wouldn't tell them.
He didn't want to tell the doctors. That was a moment he imagined sharing with Lynne and the grandparents. In a fit of irrational exhaustion, he decided not to answer. And that’s how everything at the hospital ended up labeled "Baby Boy Hanley." Which is not a very creative name.
Matt did come over to take a look at this freshest Hanley. He had big strong shoulders, like he had been working out in the womb, using mom's bladder as a punching bag. The doctors said he had red hair, but Matt didn't think so. Matt did notice Mark had almost comically large feet, a little blood on his face and a bruise on his right eyelid from the move.
He wasn’t crying much, but he was sticking his tiny tongue out, like he was tasting the air for the first time.
Seeing your son is probably supposed to be a magical moment, but it felt peculiar. Matt didn't feel like a dad and this tiny little boy still felt like a stranger. Lynne wasn’t really conscious and doesn’t remember when the doctor’s brought him over.
But Mark was here.
Lynne stayed in recovery and - after a quick, kind lecture from a nurse - Matt pulled himself together to make it out to the waiting room. The newest grandparents and aunts in Illinois got to meet the shortest Hanley in the hospital hallway for about 10 minutes.
The others probably have some great memories of this, but it was all a blur for Matt. Seeing the picture looks foreign - like it was taken of someone else. It was wonderful and confusing. Little Mark stared up at the ceiling while the grandmas snapped the first of 1 million pictures. Big Mark Hanley hugged all the family members, a nurse and maybe a janitor.
Matt finally felt some relief. He nearly knocked himself out jumping up and down.
A dusky baby
Lynne's recovery went fine, but there were still other hurdles. After all that work, Mark was finally delivered to the hospital room around 1 a.m. Lynne started to feed him for the first time when the nurse abruptly said Mark looked "dusky" and whisked him away.
Mark then spent about 24 hours in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, hooked up to monitors and an IV. It was a tough time, especially for Lynne. Mark was a big baby - 8 pounds, 10 ounces - and he didn’t really belong among the other babies. That’s not to say the hospital made a mistake bringing him there, but he never showed any of the oxygenation problems he showed that first night, when he was trying to eat too fast.
It was hard for a new mom to hold her son attached to at five wires while she was in a wheelchair, wearing a surgical mask - did we mention Lynne had a nasty cold when she came into the hospital? Yeah, great timing.
But Mark never looked back. His x-rays were fine and his oxygen levels were awesome. Lynne and Matt felt like frauds in the NICU, next to three pound “premies” who were really struggling and alongside parents who came every day after work to look at their child sitting in an incubator.
By Tuesday Mark was up in the room with Lynne and Matt, finally a family.
"And pushpushpushpushpush! two three four five six seven eight nine ten.”
Lynne would take a breath.
“And pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four five six seven eight nine ten."
This went on for half an hour, then the doctor would come in and check. Sorry, no progress. Lynne changed positions, laying on her side.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...
Ten more minutes.
Nothing.
An hour passed and this baby had not budged.
Each time the lovely and talented Dr. Frangella (at right) checked, you could see the disappointment on her face. Lynne became more and more determined. Matt could see the sweat pooling up on her neck as he held her oxygen mask in place. Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...Ten more minutes.
Nothing.
And then Dr. Frangella started to get worried. The baby's heart rate was rising during the contractions, which was normal. But it was dipping too low between contractions, which was concerning.
She gave Lynne 10 more minutes to make progress."We're on C-section prevention here," Lynne said as she shifted.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four... 10 minutes passed. Dr. Frangella looked nervous and looked at Lynne. Lynne asked for 10 more minutes.
Pushpushpushpushpushpush! two three four...
Nothing.
No movement.
Dr. Frangella apologized and assured Lynne she had one of the lowest C-section rates in the hospital. But it was time to try something different. This baby was not budging.
She offered Lynne and Matt five minutes together to talk things over. But what choice did they have? The doctors came back into the room, Lynne said she was ready. People descended on the room like there was a rum raid, swarming in through both doors.
“I’m here to pack your belongings!” “Dad, I need you to put on this body suit, hair net and surgical mask.” “Mom, I’m here to shave you.” “I need to put these socks on your feet.” “I’m here to hook up a monitor.” “Drink this.” “Wear this.” “Wash this.”
Matt had seen a lot of emotions on Lynne's face that day, but this was first time he had seen her look scared.
Baby Boy Hanley
We'll spare you most of the details of the C-section other than to say it was, of course, a difficult for everyone involved. Matt was never so proud and thinks Lynne is the toughest lady he ever met.
Lynne was wheeled into the operating room with her arms strapped down. The doctors did a great job and Lynne was lucid long enough to hear a little cry and hear the doctor say: "It's a boy."
Then, the doctor upped the pain medication and Lynne slipped off to one of the levels of Super Mario Land.
Between seeing his wife in pain and the arrival of a boy, it was very emotional for Matt. It had been a long day - it was almost 10 p.m. when Mark finally arrived - and an exhausting one. So, when the doctors asked Matt what the baby's name was, but he wouldn't tell them.He didn't want to tell the doctors. That was a moment he imagined sharing with Lynne and the grandparents. In a fit of irrational exhaustion, he decided not to answer. And that’s how everything at the hospital ended up labeled "Baby Boy Hanley." Which is not a very creative name.
Matt did come over to take a look at this freshest Hanley. He had big strong shoulders, like he had been working out in the womb, using mom's bladder as a punching bag. The doctors said he had red hair, but Matt didn't think so. Matt did notice Mark had almost comically large feet, a little blood on his face and a bruise on his right eyelid from the move.
He wasn’t crying much, but he was sticking his tiny tongue out, like he was tasting the air for the first time.
Seeing your son is probably supposed to be a magical moment, but it felt peculiar. Matt didn't feel like a dad and this tiny little boy still felt like a stranger. Lynne wasn’t really conscious and doesn’t remember when the doctor’s brought him over.
But Mark was here.
Lynne stayed in recovery and - after a quick, kind lecture from a nurse - Matt pulled himself together to make it out to the waiting room. The newest grandparents and aunts in Illinois got to meet the shortest Hanley in the hospital hallway for about 10 minutes.
The others probably have some great memories of this, but it was all a blur for Matt. Seeing the picture looks foreign - like it was taken of someone else. It was wonderful and confusing. Little Mark stared up at the ceiling while the grandmas snapped the first of 1 million pictures. Big Mark Hanley hugged all the family members, a nurse and maybe a janitor.
Matt finally felt some relief. He nearly knocked himself out jumping up and down.
A dusky baby
Lynne's recovery went fine, but there were still other hurdles. After all that work, Mark was finally delivered to the hospital room around 1 a.m. Lynne started to feed him for the first time when the nurse abruptly said Mark looked "dusky" and whisked him away.Mark then spent about 24 hours in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, hooked up to monitors and an IV. It was a tough time, especially for Lynne. Mark was a big baby - 8 pounds, 10 ounces - and he didn’t really belong among the other babies. That’s not to say the hospital made a mistake bringing him there, but he never showed any of the oxygenation problems he showed that first night, when he was trying to eat too fast.
It was hard for a new mom to hold her son attached to at five wires while she was in a wheelchair, wearing a surgical mask - did we mention Lynne had a nasty cold when she came into the hospital? Yeah, great timing.
But Mark never looked back. His x-rays were fine and his oxygen levels were awesome. Lynne and Matt felt like frauds in the NICU, next to three pound “premies” who were really struggling and alongside parents who came every day after work to look at their child sitting in an incubator.
By Tuesday Mark was up in the room with Lynne and Matt, finally a family.
Sunny side up
And so what had caused all the trouble?Well, babies are supposed to come out facing “down”. But Mark was sunny side up and was trying to lead essentially face first. His forehead was getting pushed back and his neck was getting stretched. So, his larger-than-average head got jammed up. After the C-section, the doctors said he would never have been able to get out. Lynne had made the right choice.
It wasn't fun, but Lynne and Matt are very lucky. If this had been another time, or another place in the world, an uncomfortable surgery might not have been an option. Scars aren’t fun, but they heal. Lynne’s already feeling much better.
As for Mark? Well, sunny side up is not the best way to start life, but a great way to live the rest of it.
As for Mark? Well, sunny side up is not the best way to start life, but a great way to live the rest of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment