I guess I’m starting off like this because I’m apologizing to myself – to my goal of posting a bit more frequently.
I guess I haven’t been able to just sit down to write because I knew exactly what it was that I needed to write and I didn’t want to do it.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that this particular post is more for my self than for anyone who’ll be reading this.
This is about the best day of my life, and what made it the worst day of my life.
We have bad days, ok? I’ve had bad days. I know a great many people who’ve had a bad day (hell, bad months, years, lives!) that makes my bad day look like I’m simply dying at the same place in Assassin’s Creed over and over and over again. Poor baby. But this day is the worst day of my life.
This is about the day when my little girl was born, and about the day when my wife almost died.
On the morning of February 8, Allison figured it was finally time to go check in to Labor & Delivery. It was nice of her to wait until the Super Bowl was over. We checked in to the hospital. Allison wanted to do this all without pain meds. A few hours later, she changed her mind about that. I wish I could spend a lot of time talking about how great the nurses and midwives were, but the way this is shaping up, this blog post is in for a long haul already. It suffices (that is appropriate grammar, right?) to say that the team at the hospital exceeded expectations. 10/10 – would recommend. Okay, moving on.
The actual, hard labor was pretty quick. Only about 40 minutes or so. I didn’t expect to be so involved. My responsibilities included holding up one of her legs, and tag-teaming with Allison’s mom in the cold-compress-on-Allison’s-head department. This left me with a full view of the situation. I only expected to stand behind her and hold her hand. Turns out, that isn’t how it works. Against my stomach’s desires, the nurse persuaded Allison to ask for a mirror to get set up so she could watch the process.
Right when the baby came out, they quickly wiped her off and gave her to Allison. As I looked into that cute little baby’s beautiful eyes, I was transformed. This is what the opening of the next chapter of life felt like, and it was… transcendent (You can read more of my thoughts about my baby by clicking here).
As I watched the baby snuggle with Allison and get her first inspection, I thought to myself, “How could I ever have not wanted a family?”
A few minutes later, I was reminded exactly why.
I think I was around 11 or 12 years old when I realized I didn’t always think about things or “feel” about things like everybody else. I tend to internalize and overthink and overfeel thinks a little bit more than the average bear. Growing up, I know I annoyed plenty of my friends with the depth of emotion I drew in from things – music, movies, the ladies. This one time, I was watching a commercial on TV that had something to do with an ugly duckling and it made me choke up just a little.
By the time I was around 15 or 16, I knew this over-feeling thing could become problematic in my future. I knew this because I lost my grandmother, and it broke a piece of me that still hurts. Sometimes a lot. I understand loss and grieving are a part of life, but it felt to me like this kind of pain was too much for life to ask of me. I decided (secretly) that I never wanted to get married because I didn’t want the pain of losing my wife. And the backup plan (because my heart can be uncontrollable sometimes) for just in case I did get married, I would never have kids.
Eventually (obviously) I got over that fear, mostly. I grew up in a culture that was built around the idea that the most important priority a person can have is to have a family. It wasn’t a question, but rather an expectation – a moral responsibility.
In any case, despite all those fears, Allison and I decided to get married and that kids would be a part of our future. A while before Allison became pregnant with Audrey, we had made a decision to “try” for a baby. Nothing came of it, and while we were both sad that we might have to consider getting help to conceive, I was secretly relieved. I could have more time to mentally prepare for a baby and get over my fear. Then, surprise! Turns out everything worked normally after all! When we learned we were expecting a baby, I still a tiny bit afraid – but mostly excited, and it stayed that way.
Until the baby was born.
A bit after Allison had given birth and after she had been cleaned up and had a couple of stitches, she started to feel funny. We had our time with the baby and after about an hour of “bonding time” Allison became very tired. The nurse assured me everything was ok. Allison didn’t look ok. Her skin was much more pale than a minute ago, and she was struggling to stay conscious. I asked the nurse to please come and check on her. At this point, Allison’s mom stopped by the room to see us but I turned her away because Allison wasn’t doing well.
The nurse put down the paperwork and came over to Allison and checked all her vitals. The nurse looked at the monitor, looked at Allison, and took Allison’s pulse herself. The nurse first had look of puzzlement on her face, adjusted some IV and monitor settings and called in the midwife. The midwife came in and said that the her initial stitches may have come out and set to work with a couple of nurses. This was a bit scary to watch, but the nurses assured me everything was ok and encouraged me to go update everybody. I left the room and went to the waiting room where Allison’s parents and brother were. I tried to update them that there were some touchy spots but that everything was ok. I was suddenly hit by the flood of emotions of my worst fears, and that that fate was prodding them. I struggled to get out the rest of what I was trying to say, but assured them I’d come back with another update soon. I told Allison’s mom that she was welcome to come back to the delivery room.
We got back to the delivery room and it felt very different than before. I picked the baby up and sat on the “couch” and tried to be positive. Suddenly the midwife said something to a nurse, who then rushed out of the room.
Within seconds, all three doctors on duty, a few midwives, and about 5 or so nurses. The rest of what happened next is kind of a blur. Partly because it was so fast, and also partly because some of it has left my memory on account of it being so painful to watch.
I held my little girl and sat there helpless as my life-long nightmare seemed to be unfolding right in front of me.
All sorts of machine alerts were going off. Doctors were scurrying about and frantically giving orders. The anesthetist came to restart the epidural, but it was either too late or not effective.
Allison constantly drifted into unconsciousness only to be awakened by her own painful screams from the hands and tools that were working inside her to stop the bleeding. The doctor tried to order an operating room prepared, and then cancelled the order saying something like “she’ll bleed out before she gets there.” The doctor also mentioned that they might need to perform an emergency hysterectomy – surgical removal of her uterus.
But the screams. That was the worst. I couldn’t do a single thing but cower in the corner with my new little baby. There was blood everywhere.
When there was some kind of gap in between procedures and decision making, a nurse came and took me and my baby and Allison’s mother out of the room. The only reason I can think of that I wasn’t kicked out sooner was because they were so focused on Allison and didn’t have time to kick out the fat sobbing guy.
A nurse took us where we could wait in the baby nursery. On our way over through the quiet hospital halls of the labor and delivery wing, the intercom played “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to celebrate the birth of another baby, and all I could think of was “Turn that shit off.”
We got to the nursery where we were the only ones there. Allison’s dad and brother came in to see the baby and offer some encouragement, but all I could feel was my life’s worst fear starting to come true and the world closing in around me. I remember holding my little baby girl and wondering if she’d ever know her mom. I wondered how were were going to make it if we lost Allison. I felt no matter what I said, Audrey would never understand how perfect a companion her mother is. Then I felt angry. And then the dark, squeezing pressure around me gave way into just being numb.
After what felt simultaneously like seconds and hours later, the door to the nursery opened. Everyone’s head turned to see the nurse but mine. I wasn’t ready for the look that she might have on her face.
Luckily she said in a soothing tone that everything is ok and Allison is ready for us to see her. I felt relieved. I don’t know how to describe it other than something broke inside me and then was glued back on.
We went in to see her and she smiled and I freaking lost it.
Over the next few days during Allison’s recovery, we learned more about what happened. About the hemorrhage, about how serious it was, and about the 5 bags of blood she needed (three immediately, 2 later).
We go to know Allison’s doctors and nurses. Allison got to know all the lactation specialists about as intimately as I got to know the coffee machine during those all-nighters (which is… very intimately).
Both of us still have a hard time when we talk about it. Episodes of Grey’s Anatomy can hit much too close to home sometimes, and in those times we just hold each other and hold our baby.
And we’re okay.
Hello, my name is James.
I'm an Experience Chaser, Peanut-Gallery Philosopher, Serial Wantrepreneur, Devoted Daydreamer, Passionate Flavor Enthusiast, Amateur Family Historian, and Casual Photo & Film Hobbyist.
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