Sure, maybe some people live blog certain events, but what's the difficulty in that? That's why I like to exercise my memory by
ex post facto blogging a week after the event of interest. Also, please note that Lenny is over a week old now.
So here's how it goes, starting Wednesday afternoon. All times are approximations that I have gathered from video files, cell phone call times, and blog posts here.
May 27, 3:00 p.m.: Ariane finishes what will become her last checkup with her doctor. She's already 3 cm, which means that as soon as labor starts and she gets to the hospital she can get an epidural. Her exact phrasing, "Booyah! Epidural!"
Appx. 9:00 p.m.: Ariane starts getting contractions, none that she thinks are actual labor-related. At 11:00 I tell her to get up and pack her hospital bag, which has been on her "to do" list for days. She manages to sleep through the night.
May 28, 7:00 a.m.: I wake up to go to work. Ariane still wasn't feeling very good.
11:30 a.m.: I am setting up
XRD analysis, and I get another call from Ariane asking if I can come home. I tell her my XRD is going to be finished at 3:00, so I'll leave then.
12:30 p.m.: Ariane calls, asks me to come home right then because she was feeling so bad (notice at none of these times did she ever really say she thought she was having contractions). I stop all of the work I was doing and on the way out jokingly tell Ryan and Wes that the next time they see me I might be a Daddy.
1:15 p.m.: I get home and realize she's having contractions. She says she's kind of been timing them off and on. That's no help, our doctor told us to call if they were greater than a minute long, five minutes apart or less for over an hour,
i.e. you have to time them well. I try to start timing them. I also call the pediatrician to register if I have to (had been on my "to do" list for a looong time), and try to start teaching myself how to use the video camera (also had been on my "to do" list for a looong time). Ariane wants me to do the dishes. I tell her that it's not important, that ten years from now no one will care if I did the dishes, but if we don't get video and she is in labor then everyone hates me until the end of the universe,
plus I don't even know if I need to buy a memory card or if our model has built-in memory. I somehow lose that argument and do the dishes.
1:15-2:30 p.m.: I try to do dishes, time Ariane's contractions, call the pediatrician, and read the video camera instruction manual while charging the battery. No matter how many times I ask, Ariane doesn't tell me she's having a contraction until like 20 seconds in when I see her face and ask if she's having one. That makes it kind of difficult to do. Since Nina and Anne are scheduled to fly in at 8:30 that night, I ask Wes if he could pick them up from the airport if we need him to do so, which he agrees to do. We get up to go for a little walk, which we were told can stop false labor, I try to time on my cell phone, and I also, for the first time, think that her tummy has dropped a little lower.
2:30 p.m.: I am convinced that it's time to call the doctor. Ariane makes me do it. They tell us to come in.
2:31 p.m.: I pack
my hospital bag.
2:32 p.m.: We're on the road.
2:45 p.m.: At the doctor, they take Ariane back, but I stay in the lobby. I spend the next 15 minutes looking like a total perv because I am playing with the video camera
in the lobby of an OB/GYN office. Did I mention our camera has loud sound effects when you press all the buttons?
2:50 p.m.: I discover (quite hilariously) that our model lacks built-in memory.
Oh shit, is my rough thinking. I consider who I could dispatch to buy a memory card for me and I ask the desk to take me back to wherever Ariane was.
2:55 p.m.: Ariane is hooked up to a machine measuring her contractions. The nurses are excited, I meekly tell her I don't have memory for the camera, but the nurse tells me, and I quote "You aren't the first one, don't worry." This doesn't really make me feel better. She also tells me that there is a camera shop a block and a half a way. Hallelujah, angels singing,
peanut butter jelly time, and all that.
3:00 p.m.: Dr. Kisch (not Ariane's doctor, who is off because it's her children's last day of school) comes in, tells Ariane she's a "roomy" 3 cm, and that we have to go to the hospital (which, thankfully, is literally next door). I commence with a mini freak out, because she wasn't due for a week and we were convinced she'd go past that, although we thought all along that the doctors were underestimating how far along she was (you know, because
we are the experts on fetal development).
3:30 p.m.: We're
checked in and Ariane is having some fairly painful contractions. Considering her incredible tolerance for pain, I'd be writhing on the ground.
4:00 p.m.: I call Delta in Atlanta to leave a message for Nina and Anne that we won't be picking them up because Ariane is in labor.
4:05 p.m.: I leave to get food and drinks and a damn memory card. Who gets into the checkout line behind me at Central Market? Wes. Weird. I buy a card that sounds good at Precision Camera. Perhaps they gouge me. Is $50 for 5 GB of SD fair? I have no idea. Whatever, I have bigger fish to fry.
5:00 p.m.: Back in the hospital, I find that Ariane isn't allowed to eat or drink. So I eat the food I had bought for her. Because I am nice like that. Dr. Kisch had broken Ariane's water while I was gone, which is great, because I don't "do" medical procedures of any kind. It was very slightly green, which means that there was some meconium (
i.e. fetus poop) in the amniotic fluid and a neonatal doctor might be needed at birth to suck anything out of Lenny's mouth and nose before she breathes it in. Imagine how thrilled we were to know that Lenny had already discovered the joy of pooping, which she still frequently practices.
5:15 p.m.: Anesthesiologist arrives to give Ariane her
epidural. I don't "do" that, so I leave before I am asked.
6:00 p.m.: I finally have the video ready to go and take the first one. Ariane is so chill with her epidural. Doesn't even feel her contractions any longer. She's about 4 cm, according to Dr. Kisch. We sit back for the wait. Dr. Kisch is done, and Dr. Reue will be taking care of Ariane for the next shift.
6:00-8:00 p.m.: Lauren, our labor nurse, checks in on Ariane from time to time, Ariane watches TV, and I just annoy her by taking videos. I have a small headache that has gotten progressively worse, but the hospital can't give me anything, so I figure it will go away if I drink enough.
6:30 p.m.: Derrick had called earlier and asked if there was anything he could do, and we decide to take him up on his offer and ask
him to make the pickup at the airport. I also ask him if he can get me some painkillers. My offer was a million dollars.
8:00 p.m.: Dr. Reue comes in, introduces himself, checks Ariane, says she's fully dilated and just about ready to push. Uh,
what? She went from 4 cm to a full 10 cm in
two hours? This is madness. I start to freak out, I am so not ready for this. Dr. Reue also hits us with this bit of comedy: A lot of women take two or three hours of pushing to get the firstborn out, but Lenny is sitting so low already that he expects that Ariane will only need to push for about
thirty minutes. Can we slow this down a bit, please? I need time to digest this. No? Well then.
8:15 p.m.: Ariane starts pushing with Lauren helping out. Since I don't "do" childbirth, I hide up by the head of Ariane's bed, alternatively squeezing my temples, keeping my eyes closed, trying not to throw up, and maybe rubbing Ariane's hand or scratching her head. I am totally useless at this point. At some point in the next half hour, Lauren asked me if I was OK. I said I was, I just am not very good with medical stuff. I also say they don't even have to bother asking me if I want to cut the cord, because the answer is a million times "No!"
8:45 p.m.: Dr. Reue comes in with a small army for the birth. A neonatal doctor is there to take care of the meconium birth. At some point one of them sees me with my eyes closed, head down, covering my mouth, and asks if I want to sit down. I am such an ass. Ariane is pushing a baby out of her, and I can't even gather myself enough to say, "You're doing great, sweetie!" I would have failed our childbirth education course if this were considered a final exam.
8:59 p.m.: And just that fast, there she is.
Lenny Grace. The neonatal doctor rushes her over to the warming table to suck out any amniotic fluid, they wipe her down, weigh her and measure her as the doctor finishes with Ariane. I can't remember much at this point. I remember them asking if I wanted to take pictures, so I walked back to get my camera and accidentally saw the placenta sitting in a bowl or something and nearly puked (again). Soon they wrapped Lenny up in a blanket and gave her to Ariane. That's when I got that
first video of her.
9:30 p.m.: Derrick arrives with Nina and Anne, plus his roommate Brent. I am given a quick hug at the door before they bolt to Ariane and Lenny. Derrick hands me a new bottle of Tylenol. Awesome.
*****
The rest of the night is spread out. Ariane fed Lenny, then they brought Lenny in for a bath, which this proud papa got to attend and film. Ariane was brought to our room, and then so was Lenny. Somehow we were up until 5 a.m. before we got a couple hours of sleep. We stayed in the hospital for less than 48 hours, and now we're home working through the growing pains of being new parents. Lenny is great. We're figuring out how to maximize sleep in the night; one of the things parents "conveniently" fail to tell non-parents is that for the first several days of their lives, newborns are nocturnal (awesome). But all is good. Lenny is already back above her birth weight. She had dropped from 6 lb 2 oz at birth to 5 lb 12 oz at her first doctor's visit on Monday. By Wednesday, after Ariane had gotten her milk in, Lenny was 6 lb 4 oz, gaining
half a pound in
two days. Now she's more than a week old.
We're glad you're here, Lenny. I hope we can give you a great life and help you become a good person, and that you are healthy and that you do what makes you happy. Good luck, little girl.
