New Dad

This started out as a Dad's perspective on my wife Katrina's pregnancy and a way to keep the family updated. Alina arrived in February 2006 and now it's more about our parenting adventures. Now we've added Evelyn in July 2008.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006


First Few Moments - 2/13/2006

Alina Charlotte

I feel like I just inherited a really big boat. Wow, a boat! Boats are fun! Gee, I don't know much about keeping a boat, driving a boat, or maintaining a boat. Hmm, I better not sink this boat or run it aground. That's closest analogy I have so far until they come home.

We went to the hospital on Sunday night because Katrina was feeling very nauseous and dizzy. I thought it was the Thai food she ate but the doctor told us to come in and they would check her out and the fetal movement as well. They're obsessed with the movement. I was moderately annoyed at the prospect of leaving our newly dug out and salted parking spot that just hours ago was under 26 inches of snow plus snowplow mounds. I said to Katrina on the way to the hospital, "They better induce you tonight...because we're never going to find another spot if we come home."

Once again, Katrina was hooked up to the fetal monitor while they checked everything out. You never really see a doctor at this point. They call on the phone from wherever they are until they deem you worthy of their presence. The on-call doctor said that they were most likely going to induce labor with a suppository. However, after physically examining Katrina herself it was decided that she would be kept overnight since there were signs of early labor anyway. Why induce if it's going to happen by itself, right?

So they put us in this room with four other beds, one of which was occupied by a woman who was 28 weeks pregnant and whose water had already broken. The plan was to keep her there for 7 weeks, pumping her with fluids. That's rough. But this was the intermediate labor room - one of 5 rooms we'd be occupying over the next 29 hours. We really couldn't sleep at all and they kept coming in to poke prod and replace IV bags full of various fluids. So we just sat there and watched the full moon move across the sky. Probably contributed to the 20+ babies we saw in the nursery that day. I kept an eye on the monitor because it kept losing Alina's heartbeat. She was moving around a lot and that involved moving the readers on Katrina to find it again. Getting Katrina back and forth to the bathroom was cumbersome. Unplugging various cords from the machine and slinging them around your neck, collecting all the IV tubing and making sure you weren't stepping on it or rolling over it with the pole-on-wheels everything was hanging from.

For myself, I didn't really know what I could do except say Want some ice chips? But at around 6AM Monday the real fun started in the form of P A I N and contractions. They ask about your (tolerable) pain scale from 1-10. She went from 3 to 7 to 9. After about 90 minutes of that it was time to move rooms to the Labor and Delivery wing. There were epidurals to administer after all. The only baby-safe painkiller they offer.

The changing of rooms was like moving from a clinic to a suite. Better machinery, more comfy chairs for Dad, and other things to distract you like a stereo and a TV. Someone left behind a CD with Hindu music. Our nurse, Heather, had a Tigger watch. We took that as a good Omen because our nursery at home is all Pooh'd out. The room was very clean, but you could tell it had seen a lot of action. The floors were scratched up to such an extent that you'd think they had just performed an exorcism on a rottweiler. The anesthesiologist came in (they're always slow talkers, as if they're sampling their own product) to hook up Katrina to the la la juice. About 10 minutes after the epidural was inserted into her spine, she said "Mmmmmm, this feels like slipping into a warm bath surrounded by candles." I wasn't allowed in the room while they did this for some reason. I had to go to the 24 hour Au Bon Pain in the main lobby of the hospital. Granted, I was very hungry so I didn't mind but I cursed the bright sunlight and scorned all the awake people. The lobby was flooded with happy folk starting their work day. They all got sleep, the bastards.

I got back to the room and the nurse said that the epidural will make Katrina's blood pressure drop and that they would be keeping an eye on it. In these moments, I trust no one. They told us to try and get some sleep but how the hell could I do that now? Tee hee, your wife's heart may stop, but let's all get some shut eye. I thought about how that was way worse than not letting the bedbugs bite. Katrina's face got a little pale. The machine she was hooked up to would beep and boop and I didn't know why. I asked the nurse and she said, "I dunno, it does that sometimes." Ah yes, now I can nap. In Katrina's zonked, half asleep state, she must've thought the monitor's beeps were the dinner chimes on a Holland America cruise ship because out of nowhere she mumbled, "Hey honey, if we hurry we can go to second seating." I told her I would have the venison. She agreed.

At 9AM and 4cm they decided to break her water for her. Nothing happens naturally anymore, silly. Hey doc, you knitting a sweater? She whipped out this plastic crochet hook and promptly popped my baby's warm condo. At 11AM they decided that naturally wasn't being naturally prompt, so they gave her an IV of Petocin to speed along her dilation. “You can’t turn off suppositories,” the doctor said. The problem with this method is that it makes the contractions more painful so they have to up the happy spine soup to counteract it. Dr.Kaufman at your cervix. Over the next 7 hours they kept checking to see if the she was dilating and if Alina's head was dropping. Neither was really happening. So they decided at 6PM to perform a C-Section. Dammit, they're taking all the spontaneity out of this birth thing.

I suppose there are pros and cons with natural birth vs cesarean. Baby’s getting stuck in the birth canal, episiotomy (meat scissors!), pelvis breaking, etc. But the latter ends up being a little anti-climactic. There's no go baby go aspect to it. No rounding second, third, and heading for home....push! push! Here comes the head! You're doing it! Just:

Slice.

Baby.

It's a mixed bag really. You're in the O.R., the third room of the night, wearing scrubs and watching your wife's eyes roll around in her sockets, trying to talk to her. You're both hiding behind a sheet so you can't see anything. Not that you'd want to. You hear a little cry and then a quick flash of quivering grey baby when they show her over the vertically placed sheet. And then she's....born. 6:39pm. 8 lbs, 19.5 inches long. Not a big crier at all, really. But I stayed at Katrina's head and kept her awake. Then they give her to me! Because the doctor has to put mommy's parts back in and her arms are pinned down outstretched like Jesus. You want focus on your new baby but you can't help but be concerned about what's going on next to you. They put me in a room by myself (the fourth room) for close to 45 minutes while they closed Katrina up. Just me and Alina. I spent a good portion of it trying to take photos with my phone while holding her at the same time. There were people to alert, after all. But Alina was very inquisitive. Looking around, raising her eyebrows and bringing them together in a confused expression like, This place is way different from the one I was just in.

After a few hours in the recovery room, they moved us to our fifth room in the maternity ward. A wing full of very slow moving women and very loud babies. They gave us ID bracelets that I have to wear all week and put a Baby LoJack on Alina's ankle. So if anyone decides to take her outside the wing, alarms go off, nets go down, and shotguns are drawn. And that's where Katrina and Alina (yes, I know it rhymes) will be until Friday. They can't come home soon enough. We have a world of work ahead of us but it's a very exciting time. Katrina is healing nicely and Alina got a clean bill of health from our new Pediatrician.

Everything Alina does, no matter how normal, is somehow fascinating. Look, she blinked! Wow, she yawned! Oooh, she sneezed -- oh shit, does she have a cold?? Call the doctor and ask if that's okay!


The Dad.

Friday, February 10, 2006

It's the Square Footage, Stupid

Katrina was very nearly induced last night? Why? Because doctor's are worried about being sued. We were at the doctor's office for the now weekly checkup since we're so close to the end. When the doctor asked if Katrina had been feeling the baby move much, she said No. What Katrina's follow up to that answer would've been, "Well, I'm getting used to be karate kicked on a regular basis, but the baby has grown so much I don't think she has any room to do that now." Ain't no nevermind. The doctor told us to go to the hospital right away and that she might be induced. What? There's like a heartbeat and stuff. The doctor added, "We take fetal movement very seriously." So, freaked out, we drove to the hospital without the suitcase and Viacord box to get checked out.

They hooked Katrina up to a fetal monitor and did an ultrasound. The baby was moving, only Katrina wasn't feeling it. I was watching the ultrasound, the baby was fine and breathing. The amniotic fluid levels were good. And she's already over 8 pounds. Head down, all that good stuff. So we sat there for two hours and listened to Alina's heartbeat on the fetal monitor, which is essentially a very sensitive microphone/EKG/contraction detector. Everytime the baby rolled around, the heartbeat went up and it sounded like she was moving furniture around inside the womb. I told Katrina it sounded like the baby was a roadie doing a soundcheck before a concert. Check One (blowwwwww) Sibilance. Turns out it's not a good idea to make someone laugh when they have a fetal monitor on. It skews the readings and puts spikes in that long printout.

The whole time Katrina ate ice chips, which I must say, were perfectly constructed for someone who can only eat ice chips. Small, barrel shaped, rough surface to prevent slippage, easily crumbled with the slightest bite (Insert word for the kissing of the finger tips to denote deliciousness). Now she's at 2 cm and having mild contractions so it's very very close.

Now there's a bloody blizzard coming. Fitting really. I was born during an ice storm, my little sister was born during a lunar eclipse/snow storm. My grandfather had a theory about low barometric pressure inducing labor. If that's true, it's going to be a busy weekend at the hospital. We tend not to get too much snow in NYC. Snow either misses us or turns to rain. It must be that protective layer of sarcasm over the city.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Any Day Now

Ready to pop doesn't even begin to cover how Katrina is feeling right now. We'll reserve that cute little euphemism for the other mommies out there. We're gonna go with, and I mean this in the nicest way sweetie, Fixin' to Blow or Engorged Tick or Geddit Ouuuuuuuuuut!! The baby was over five pounds a month ago and they say it will grow nearly a pound a week in the last month of pregnancy. People even ask her if she's carrying twins.

The last two weeks has been all about organizing our space and closets, building furniture, broken furniture, replacing furniture, putting batteries in everything that jingles and bubbles and swings, and lets not forget turning 30! That changing table was a beast to put together and that's coming from me -- the Ikea Obi-Wan. Nevermind that it weighed about 150 pounds in the box, but the pre-drilled holes weren't always in the right place and when you're dealing with drawers, they really need to be. We also put aluminum foil on the things we don't want the cat jumping on. Apparently cats on foil is like nails on a chalkboard to them. They just can't take it and spaz out, forever associating the changing table or the baby swing with an audible pain that can only be found by listening to Yoko.

Over the weekend, Katrina had what was believed to be a series of contractions! Maybe it was something she ate, maybe it was the potholes on 37th Street, but something made her go from relative inactivity to 2 minutes apart instantaneously. The bad part was that we were on the wrong side of both rivers that night. So from now on we're staying closer to the hospital. I think that Superbowl party will be the last time we'll be seen in public together as a mere twosome.