The Birth Day

The following was originally posted January 5, 2009, at http://www.parentclick.com/BlogPost.html?id=874:

There's just something surreal about the Birth Day, isn't there?

No, I'm not talking birthday parties and torn scraps of wrapping paper and stray icing stains with screaming kids and clowns. That day, when you actually physically bring another life into the world.

Today was one of those days for me, the third one I've had, and in many ways the strangest. It started, as days are apt to do, at midnight, but this time my wife and I awake, partly because we'd had a little midday siesta earlier in the afternoon, but of course I'd be lying if I didn't say nerves didn't factor into our later-than-usual night.

Sleep was, I suspect, every bit as fitful for Crystal as it was for, a safe bet considering that I didn't have a large child stretching my uterus like an overfilled balloon, and that I wasn't waiting to be sliced open so that a child could be yanked from my body.

Nothing unusual, even for grizzled veterans of maternity wards, botched IVs, and scheduled C-sections like us, right? Turns out that, had that been the worst of our troubles, we'd have thanked our lucky stars, marched in and cranked that kid out.

We should have realized that little dull tickle in the pit of our collective stomach when Riley, our oldest, coughed himself into vomiting. He's been battling a rather persistant respiratory issue, gone through two cycles of antibiotics, a steroid (see my post "The Prednisone Blues,"), and enough collective Tylenol, Children's Benadryl, and Albuterol to poison a hippo, but there he was hacking once again.

He woke the next morning (which happens to be, as I write this, this past morning) with a 102-degree fever, whining and curling up in the corner of the couch in that way he does when he's feeling icky. Crystal put in a quick call to the pediatrician at 8:30 (actually a sub, as our Dr. D is herself on maternity leave), who got him scheduled at 9:30.

Our C-section was scheduled for 2:00, with a scheduled arrival at 12:00. I leapt up, threw on some clean clothes, and zipped him to the doctor's office. I was in the middle of choosing the wrong exit on the highway when my cell phone rang. It was Crystal, in tears.

"You need to turn around," she said. "Jenna's eye is swollen."

Another lingering issue, as we discovered the hard way a few weeks back that my 18-month-old daughter is allergic to amoxicillin. Her face puffed up, and she was covered in hives, and we switched her antibiotic and waited for the offending drug to be expelled from her system.

It, too, appeared to be back, just in time to thwart our efforts of having a meaningful birth and introduction to the new brothers and sisters. We were only slightly frantic, though.

I got to the doctor's office right on time, got Riley's scripts and got out. Meanwhile, Crystal, who works for an optometrist, called her boss and got some advice on treating her problem. Riley and I got back home at 11:00, just time enough for a quick shower and shave, pack the kids and the luggage into the car, and get to the doctor. You know, so we can start working on birthing this child.

The birth, as it turns out, went smoothly. We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl (a fact that another sub, this one performing Crystal's last ultrasound, more or less gave away while discussing the subject, as she turned away the monitor and said "If you don't want to know, I don't want to have it sticking out at you.").

So, yes, we had a healthy, bouncing baby boy (in the figurative sense, of course), 8 lbs., 5 oz. We had some girl names picked out, but had been stumped with boy names. We decided finally on Mason Alexander (which, by the way, affords the geek in me the opportunity to call him "Lex," after, of course, Superman's arch enemy).

So today was just a bit eventful, quite a bit stressful (there's still a large part of the day that will, for now, remain undiscussed), and as midnight approaches, I'm home with two sick kids, a wife and child in the hospital, and an exhaustion that I'm becoming increasingly used to.