The things we do for Ca-leb

This not-so-little story begins with a two-word text I read on the way home from my weekly softball game. 

"I'm bleeding."

Nerve-racking words for sure, but at the time they only signaled a long night ahead to me. Not a long night that ended with a baby boy but a long night for my wife to endure and me to hear about the next day through 30 texts at work. Just another day in the life of a husband of a pregnant wife.

Little did I know.

10:30 p.m. Katie’s still bleeding (you know, down there). Visibly struggling. I've seen this concerned look before, but it seems worse this time. All I can do is sympathize and offer help.

12:45 a.m.  The pain is now inciting vocal grimaces, but there’s a brief moment of comic relief with Jimmy Kimmel’s Skype Scavenger Hunt game.



Jackie's cluelessness had Katie laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. Now I'm not a doctor, but in hindsight I think this was the turning point where labor went from "Heads up" to "Game on."

2:30 - 4:00 a.m. Awakened by Katie, who tells me she’s been shaking and cramping and feels dehydrated. This will continue for three episodes of Full House (The ones where Stephanie crashes Joey’s car into the house, DJ is accused of drinking beer at a school dance, and Michelle is jealous when Jesse babysits for the neighbors (“Uncle Jesse, Tony wants you”)

Katie begins searching for a spot that provides relief by standing and crouching over beside the bed, sitting in the glider and sitting on the toilet. Lying in bed is too painful. The kitchen is full of empty water bottles. Light and heavy clothes and blankets have been experimented with. My best guess is she’s coming down with the flu and it needs time to break, though I know that doesn't explain the cramping and bleeding. She saw her doctor earlier that day. Maybe her body's reacting to the poking and prodding?

I'm still not even contemplating the idea that this could be labor. We'd been preparing for a scheduled C-section since conception and had a delivery date set months ahead of time, I don't think the "L" word was ever in my lexicon, never mind the act of it.

5:00 a.m.  Katie makes the call to go the hospital. (There should be a sarcastic (finally!) inserted here, but I can't say that's exactly how I felt. I threw out that option hours ago and got little reaction. Katie had been fighting this for nearly 8 hours. We were past the life-or-death stage for both mom and baby.)  But something is definitely not right, and we need some direction on how to treat whatever is going on.  Katie instructs me to grab her hospital bag and the diaper bag, just in case. 

5:20 a.m. After hitting EVERY green light en route, Katie is admitted to the labor and delivery ward's triage room, changes into a gown and waits for a few minutes. A nurse comes in and begins to check her out.

Nurse: Did your doctor check you yesterday?

Katie: No. He didn’t think he needed to.

Nurse: Well, you’re dilated to 8 cm. (Katie gasps "You're kidding" in disbelief as she comes to the realization that all those 10-20 second moments of excruciating pain during the night were actually contractions.) You sure you still want a C-section?

Katie: Yep.

Nurse (on the phone): Someone call Katie's doctor and an anesthesiologist. I need anyone who can help prep for a C-section to come ASAP. I want her ready to go in 15 minutes.

Within minutes three more nurses are in the room and I've donned a blue jumpsuit with matching white booties and hair net.  The anesthesiologist begins to briefs Katie about the drugs he's going to shove into her, says it's time to head to operating room, the doctor is on his way and oh-by-the-way, do I have my camera? (Here's comes comic relief moment #2)

Me: No. It's in the car.

Anesthesiologist: Run.
Me(to myself): In my hospital garb? Don’t question the doctor. Run.
With a clearer head than mine, the receptionist stops me before darting out the door and takes the jumpsuit while I run to the car. I try to call Katie’s dad as I move and end up leaving a message that sounds something like this: “Hi Dad. We're at the hospital. Everything is fine, but Katie is fully dilated and we’re headed in for an emergency C-section. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”  I spend a good portion of the next couple hours wondering if I've just put Katie's parents in a unnecessary state of panic that will cause Katie's dad to immediately begin fasting and Katie's mom to warm up the car.

Katie doctor arrives in time to see her endure a few more contractions before receiving a spinal block. Katie (arms still shaky): Am I going to feel anything?
Anesthesiologist: Do you feel anything now?
Katie: No
Anesthesiologist: Good. The doctor's already made his incision.

The work has begun. I hold Katie’s hand, keeping direct eye contact and telling her how great she’s doing and to keep focusing on breathing. I stand up once during the surgery to get a look at what's going on occasionally and a once again just in time to see the doctor slide out 6 pounds and 5 ounces of  life-altering human.

The rest, as they say, is his-story, but until he even knows what his story is, I'll keep telling it.

Days 1 through 4 were spent at the hospital. After getting cleaned up he and his mom got their first glimpse of each other.



Sort of a misleading first impression. They rarely wear hats.

Caleb took his Hep B shot like a man and then took his first bath like, well, a baby.

We had a steady flux of visitors to see the newest edition to the family, both in person and via Skype.

A treat for Dad from Uncle Doug and Aunt Leslie. Keep feasting on milk for now my boy, but when the times comes for the meat we may want to start here.

Flowers from mom's friends at work. The stuffed animal was for Caleb. Didn't know it at the time of delivery, but the duck was for cousin Brooklyn.

Mom is so thrilled she has a baby who will lay on her chest and cuddle with her. Of course, that's only when he's asleep. An awake Caleb is a wiggly Caleb.

If M.C. Escher did mother-child art, this is what I imagine it looking like.

Unlike Joey and Chandler, no one called us bracelet buddies, but I've been told we look a lot alike. And speaking of names, there must be a "baby pet name of the hour" posted for the nurses to use because we heard a different one every time. Some of my personal favorites were Mister Man, Munchkin Man, Precious and Sweet Pea.

And speaking of names Part 2, Caleb had to be placed in a BiliBed for a day to get rid of his jaundice, an image which conjured up images of baby Superman and had me calling him Kal-El

At three weeks old, Caleb's interests include eating at all hours, making inquisitive looks at his parents and trying to wear as many different animal-print outfits as he can in a day. His primary enemies are gas and spending any length time alone in his bassinet. 

We've had tons of help the last three weeks as we start to figure out this parenting gig. We appreciate all those who brought groceries and meals and time spent at our home to keep us sane and Caleb happy, especially Aunt Lisa and Grandma Deedee. 

Brooklyn and Carter wanted to introduce him to all his new friends. He got a bit overwhelmed. 

 Ready for a summer of Cardinals and Caleb.