Today is this sweet dreamer's half birthday. 6 months old, wow! With every little suit that he grows out of, the retiring of a swing or a swaddle blanket and adoption of a high chair and bigger shoes, the nostalgia bursts in our chests, already overfilled with love for this little man.
To add to the reminiscing, yesterday we skyped with my sister Selena + her hubbie Jorge and their 6 day old baby girl Antonella. What a little peanut!!! Seeing her, watching her yawn and happily lie on her dad's warm chest, and talking with her sweet, tired happy parents, brought us back to those precious early days and Homer's first week out in the colors.
And so, the first week. But first, the birth...
[During those days, after the birth of Homer Zinn Calabrese, Johnny wrote the story of his birth in our treasured 'Nikki McClure baby journal'. Here it is, verbatim, from the perspective of a tired papa, sitting next to an even more tired mama and tiny baby, written in a book Homer will hopefully some day read and find out what it's all about... ]
"THE STORY OF YOUR BIRTH"
Bedtime around midnight as February 25th became the 26th, with bags packed and musical compilations complete your mom sensed some strangeness in her middle. "I think my water broke" she said, and went downstairs.
In a half minute or so her words sunk into my head. I found her straddling a puddle of liquid in the hallway outside the bathroom. My cocoon of sleep quickly joined the puddle, realizing that all which we had planned for these past three seasons was staring me in the face. The hospital told us to come on in. With the 'Active Birth' book at the top of your mother's bag, we gathered our things and climbed in the truck. We were set up with the midwives in no time. You mother had read tirelessly, prepared diligently, prayed and dreamed of as natural a birth as possible. That was simply not in the cards.
By the time Emily Zimmer (dear, mystical, calming, healing friend) arrived, concerns about your mother's blood pressure being too high had already been raised. High blood pressure is a warning sign of preeclampsia, a condition that if not avoided could lead to stroke seizure or maternal death. Oy. Sadly, we had to move to the OB side of the birthing floor. Your mother wanted to move, walk, squat, shower and sweat her way through a drugless birth, but healthy babe and mother became the most important thing.
The frustration of multiple IV's - pitocin-magnesium- as well as a catheter and contraction monitors were eased professionally and sweetly by the amazing nurses, and Ms Emily. On Sunday evening, nurse Elizabeth helped encourage your mother to have an epidural. Being already bedridden and weak from lack of food and abundance of drugs, the pain would have been insane with the epidural and plus it was night time and your mother needed a little sleep. Through it all, your mother never gave herself over fully to the drugs. By god, she was going to be as active as she could from that bed... but at this moment, giving over to the epidural and the loopy pain med it is paired with was what needed to happen.
The post epidural Oscar (the awards were on tv that night) party sleepover was a bonding time for your mother, Emily and me, tinged with laughter surrounding your mother's drug fueled sassy comments about the award winners (The Artist- Best Picture, a movie we saw when you were in your mama's belly).
Monday brought hope after an almost (your mother was awakened by the nurses every 30min for a blood pressure + reflex check) sleep filled night. As the day went on, your mother progressed slowly but steadily until her cervix was completely dilated.
Emily exited at 1pm to teach some preschoolers in St. Paul. After 3pm, nurse Carolyn 1's shift ended and she gave way to the team of Carolyn 2 and Missy. They were all business, which is what was needed, as the time to push had come. The next few hours were a picture of strength and wonder. Your mother was ready to meet you and somehow summoned repeated amazing pushes.
But you wouldn't come. Doctors visited and seemed convinced the pushing was fruitless as your head wasn't passing over your mama's back pelvic bone. But, your ma wasn't having it, and neither was Missy. Determined, Missy coached out the hardest breath taking pushes yet. Still, you wouldn't budge. This coupled with the fact that your mama's kidneys seemed to be shutting down and it had been 40 hours since her water broke, it was determined that it had to be a cesarean section birth... but not for lack of effort.
Stunned and ready, they wheeled your ma into the surgery room and dressed me up to join her. Emily , who had returned just in time to see the last of the magic pushing, joined your grandparents and auntie Jenna in the waiting room.
The next moments were a duality on two sides of a curtain. Your mother's head and teary eyes on one side, doctors and bright lights on the other. Soon my tears came as you were skillfully lifted from your mother's womb. Your ma caught a glimpse of you before you were whisked to the other side of the room. Moments later, your lungs filled with air and you breathed your first breath.
February 27th, 2012 at 8:04pm, we welcomed you into the world. An hour later, you were in my arms as I lifted you out of a cradle in the nursery. Soon after, I placed you in your groggy, exhausted mother's arms, where you were beset with kisses and met with relieved sighs of pure love.
-JRC. 2/29/12
And now for some photos + my additions...
February 23rd, just one week shy of our due date I'm feeling as big as that yoga ball in the background.
A few days later, we are at the hospital and for a short while all is "regular".
Fetal monitors are the only thing I'm hooked up to, until my blood pressure won't lower and
fast forward to Sunday night, after almost a full day of no sleep (+lots of laughing and singing and an impromptu version of bed ridden dancing) and a cocktail of drugs (this is right after the epidural) things are getting real and my hair is getting amazing.
Monday morning. Oy. That wash cloth was periodically dipped in ice water because the magnesium was burning me up and making me insanely thirsty.
A few hours later being cared for by my sweet loving Johnny...
[There are no photos of the next 10 hours, when my cervix dilated and the epidural faded enough for me to feel some of the contractions, something I actually welcomed. I wanted to feel what was going on! Around 3pm, I started to push, the part of the 40 hours (from the water breaking to the c-section) that is the most vivid in my memory. Maybe it was the bright afternoon light of that winter day that illuminated our room, or maybe it was the lights that Missy the nurse shined to try and see what this little human inside me what doing (she could see his head!), or maybe is was the exhaustion mixed with the drugs and extreme physical exertion - but there was something about those few hours that was so light, so glorious and exhilarating. I'm glad in a way that there are no photos of that time, because as a photo can sometimes do, I fear it would change my story of Homer's birth, which although was not at all what I had hoped for, was NOT a traumatic birth and was indeed, as I've said to anyone who's asked, 'bathed in light'.]
...who even when preparing for the c-section, has a sense of humor. So cute.
About 2 hours after the doctors pulled him out of me (crazy), after my vitals were stable enough, I get to meet my little guy. Amazing.
February 28th
The next morning, I get a good look at those sweet peepers. (He acquired that scratch on his forehead when trying to get out, the little fighter.)
Johnny changes his first diaper,
and is later rewarded with some cuddles.
February 29th (leap day!)
Never did I think it would be so fun to watch someone sleep.
Just two days old, and we learn he's part stinker,
part serious guy
all soul singer.
We get some visitors...
Auntie Jenna
and dear Emily Z.
March 1st
is the day
we get to put on our going home outfit. Cute and so baggy!
March 2nd
Home is
where the Homer is!
March 3rd...
No photos. Really? Guess we slept all day.
March 4th
So sweet, little
and googly-eyed,
wondering why
this hat doesn't fit him and
if these pants are so darn cute
why we gotta burrito him up.
March 5th. One week old.
Johnny (sadly) goes back to work, leaving me to start taking the first of many mama-baby portraits.
And then, a pure baby celebration, in the wee hours of the first day of his second week, during a diaper change with his Papa, he peed on his sweet face. Yay! Johnny then took this picture. Welcome to our family, little Homer Zinn. We celebrate it all. Happy half birthday to you!
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