Three hospitals in five days

The next few days were so stressful that I can't even begin to explain. Right from the jump, he was a troublemaker. Momma was doing pretty well, considering that she was sliced open and an almost 7 pound screaming hunk of meat came out of her. The incision was cool, the pain tolerance was fantastic and she was able to move about which was a blessing. Rowen, on the other hand, was determined to exercise my already overactive fear gland. The doctors came in, and they poked him. They prodded him. Took his blood and tested him to make sure that he was up to code. We walked around during the day and slept when we could take it. Alternating of course. No one would be stealing our baby. My mom and Queens mom showed up. Even Praveen and his wife Meli arrived.

The next day, we found out that his bilirubin levels were a bit high and that he would be needing to go into the box for some light therapy. Rowen had jaundice.

It wasn't the best thing in the world, but I wasn't exactly worried about it at that point. When they told us, I was already aware of the process and knew that he would just sit in a box for a while and get blasted with UV light until that mess calmed down. No biggie. Some people get to lie on a tanning bed. The only thing that actually made me worry was when Queen and I fell asleep at the same time and woke in the middle of the night to him with his eye mask off and him watching the light burn out his retina without a care in the world. He figured out how to pull the Velcro off and if we weren't constantly watching him, then it was a wrap. Constant vigilance begins now.

We had to go through this for about two days and a bit. All the while, nurses would come in, prick his foot and check his levels, and we would be able to take him out for 30 minutes at a time to feed. It was a stressful time, but we were finally ready to come home.

Elena came and she drove us home with Nicole being her high energy self. But it was fine. We were going to get to go home. When we got in, the house was just as we left it. A mess. I was in the middle of tossing things around packing for the baby we now have in our hands. The place looked like a war zone. I can't even lie. But all the same, we offered them a place to sit, and some drink. Kaylan showed up and it was his first time seeing Rowen. Everything was bliss. We made jokes, we ate pizza and then I started to get annoyed.

Rowen was clearly in distress. It was overwhelming to have so many people grabbing at him and cooing over him when all he wanted to do was sleep. Eventually, i took him and used an excuse that I wanted to change him, in order to be alone and actually check on him. He seemed to be warmer than usual and he was fussy. I took off his shirt and Kaylan looked at him breathing and said ' whoa, is his breathing supposed to be like that?!' He was really concerned, but I figured that the hospital looked at him and didn't say anything to us so it must be normal. It looked like he was pulling his chest inside of himself. Like he had a black hole inside him. I'm not sure this was as normal as I once thought. Luckily we needed to see the midwife the next day. She would know what's up.

Arijola and Obie came for a visit, and you could see the absolute love in their eyes for him, especially Arijola. Her life had changed.  They didn't have long to hold him before Molly showed up. The trainer midwife. She did her tests, weighed him and then she saw his chest. She couldn't hide her concern but she told us it was probably nothing and that she would pass it along to Zuzana. I could tell that it was something to be worried about when Zuzana got back to us and said she was gonna see us the next day.

Almost immediately when she saw his breathing, and how labored its been. She told us that we should go to the hospital and we were off like a rocket. Packing and listening to what she said. The hospital wasn't very far, and when we got there we were admitted within 30 mins. I hated the fact that they didn't close their doors at all. In fact, when we did close them, they made a point of opening them back even with a little girl coughing in the next room like it was her last moments on earth.

They meant well but they just didn't have the experience to deal with someone that was only five days old. None of the equipment fit him, they couldn't find the veins and generally, they were just out of their elements. They tried everything they could, but his oxygen levels were going lower and he couldn't breath without the machines, so they made the call to have him sent to Sick kids hospital. The best pediatric hospital in North America, and also the hospital that I spent so much time at when I was born.

As soon as we stepped foot in there, I could tell that this place was no joke. They took him and he was already in the incubator by the time we arrived. They took the time to ask questions, answered a few of ours and then focused solely on him. There was a nurse in his room at all hours of the day and night, he had monitors and they had his back constantly. I thought for sure we would be like those parents stuck in the lobby, sleeping on the floor, or eating the cafeteria food when one of the nicer nurses told us about the Ronald Mcdonald wing a floor above us. When we got there, we were greeted with a blanket and food. The hospitality lasted as long as we were there and honestly it was such a great blessing. We knew that we weren't going home. So to have a comfortable place to lay down when we weren't with him was great. We were able to eat our fill and then sleep on some of the most incredible feeling recliners. Queen and I were able to count down the new year with Rowen in Sick Kids.
Three or four days in the hospital was enough to last us and we were able to go home. He had an appointment for his enlarged heart, but it wasn't affecting him right now and his viral infection was subsiding, so we were free to go. That was the most terrifying moment because it meant that we were free to go. We were responsible for him now. Now and for the rest of our lives.

The first day

This day was filled with so much joy, stress, fear and just about everything in between.

Well actually let me go back to the beginning. The night before you started to tell your momma that you were ready.

'My back really hurts.' That's what started everything off in my mind. Your mom told me that her back was hurting her while we were eating dinner. I told her she was going into labor, which she denied vehemently. I laughed and said ok. 

After a while, it was time for bed, but I couldn't sleep. I KNEW this was coming. I knew you were coming. I was filled with trepidation, but I had a job to do. I needed to be there for your mom, and you when the time was needed. I needed to sleep. I took one of your moms gravol, and some sleep aid and sat there. And sat there. And sat there. Still, couldn't sleep, I just sat there in bed watching your mom sleep, thinking in no time flat we were going to be pare---.

I woke up with out of the deepest sleep immediately when I heard Queen say my name. I knew that it was go time. From the moment I looked at her, I knew this was not a false alarm. I jumped out of bed, a little annoyed when I found out she had been in the bathroom for two hours going through contractions without me. Stubborn. She was trying to talk all of this on herself. 

Right away, I called our midwife, and we began to time the contractions. We called the midwife again and continued to time our contractions. Finally, our midwife picked up, and told us ' Nah you aren't having one yet, go take a bath and go for a walk.' If looks could kill, she would have been a chalk outline. We gave it maybe 20 minutes before I called her again. She tells us she's on her way, but she is in Whitby and that she would take an hour to get back to us. An HOUR?! 

Thoughts and swears filled my mind as I counted the contractions and we double checked the hospital bag. Everything was going the way it should, albeit a little crazier than I would have liked. But that's life.

Eventually, our midwife came and did all the checks she was supposed to do. 4cm. This baby is definitely coming out. 'No sh*t.' I replied in my mind as she told us we could either hang out here or head to the birthing center. Yeah right, I'm not falling for that scam so we can have our baby at home. No dice.

We all pile into her car, and we begin our journey. The destination: parenthood. During the ride, I call my dad and my mom and text a few people. I contact a few of our friends and before I know it. We are here. Tensions are flaring, and I can't believe we are here. They put us in the biggest room, it has a fireplace, a Queen sized bed, and this giant bathtub that I would have killed to soak in if the time was right.  Gotta say, our digs were pretty sweet.

Time to get started I guess.

Right away, the midwife makes Queen start to do laps. Laps around the room laps around the facilities. Laps up and down the stairs. Everything she can do to help speed the process a bit.Queens taking it better than I would, that's for sure.  Every few minutes, she would close her eyes, and grit down while she was having this silent war with h. It looked like she had been determined that she wouldn't make a sound. So that's how it went for a bit. Walk, walk, walk. Grit and baring down. Walk, walk, walk. Eventually, we moved into the bedroom where an exam was done. 7-8cm. The pain was coming down hard now. The pain was winning. Now this silent brawl was an all out war. It took everything in Queen to hold it together. She yelled and screamed every few minutes. She doubled over, and there was nothing I could do, but just try to support her. I mirrored everything the midwife would do. I rubbed her back, her arms, her legs. Any part of her that I could touch. Willing God to take the pain and put it in me. 

Eventually, we needed to go into the tub, and things got a little better. Queen later described the pain as her going in a hot air balloon and then coming back down. Not sure what that really meant, but hey, I didn't have a giant hot object trying to force its way down my nonexistent vagina. So when the woman says it was a hot air balloon, then it was a hot air balloon.

The time came sooner than expected where we needed to get Queen out the tub. Her contractions were getting more intense, but they were spacing further apart. Things needed to happen soon. 

And so we asked some more.

We walked until she couldn't do it anymore and collapsed on the bed. 

After another few moments of unendurable pain, Queen was 8 cm firm. We thought for sure that his was happening right then and there. So we waited and waited. But the baby just didn't want to come out. We needed some help.

The time was here to consider our options. We could try it out for a few more hours or we could go to the hospital and get an epidural going. Truthfully, I was a little apprehensive and wanted her to stay where she was. But then she looked in my eyes and broke my heart. She said I'm sorry. She had nothing to be sorry about, but we ended up going to the hospital. 

As soon as I got there, I was so pissed at this woman who was in charge of registration. But man was I wrong. She was a nonperson. She was so unhelpful, it was crazy. But Queen was brought upstairs right way, so however I felt about the woman, it didn't matter. My wife was being taken care of. 

When I got upstairs, She was in so much pain. She was almost delirious because of it. Then the time came for the epidural. We were craving it at this point, but the woman couldn't wait for Queens contractions to subside. I had to hold her perfectly still as she went through the worst pain in her life. 

Slowly, the pain subsided. Every contraction becoming less and less, until nothing. Very little pressure, nothing, something was wrong. Queen couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel the contractions. She couldn't feel anything. She had been given too much of the drug and now she couldn't even spread her legs to have the midwife check her. I was asked to assist in the delivery, and what went from a hands-off approach, me looking into my wife's eyes and telling her to push, to keep going, that she is strong, turned into me holding up her legs and yelling at her as the midwife broke her water, as we made her push, as she put everything she had into this effort and as we all rested for the big push again.

Her contractions we so intense that the midwife kept asking if she could feel that. But Queen was numb from the waist down. Her contractions were intense, but far apart and getting further. Our babies heart rate was dipping down with every contraction, but taking longer to get back up afterward.

A doctor was consulted. As she watched Queen push with all her might, she commented that it's like a car caught in a snow bank. If there was momentum it would be easy to get the car out, but we would step on the gas, then stop for 10 mins then start it up again hoping to just get out, sooner or later we would run out of gas.

They suggested we get some assistance with the suction, and every time queen pushed, the doctor pulled, she pulled so hard in fact that I thought for sure the babies head would snap off in her hand. Well, I was half right. With a final push and a pull, something released and a huge spray of blood went everywhere. On the doctor, her cell phone, her clothes, my clothes, my arms. Everywhere. I was so worried that it was our son but turns out it was Queen. The doctor had torn something.

At this point, we were told that the only course of action was that we needed to get an emergency c-section. Queen and I looked at each other and she began to cry. There was nothing I could do to make her feel better. This was her greatest fear about the whole pregnancy. She didn't want a c-section. The doctors understood, and explained that she did everything absolutely right. At almost 24 hours, there was nothing more that she could do. Her job was over and they would step in and finish up. We are convinced that she did everything amazingly well and that this would be a simple procedure. 

I'm told that she would go in the room first, I would get dressed in a gown, then I would go in beside her and she would be conscious the entire time. We would be able to talk and she wouldn't feel a thing. That plan quickly changed when she wasn't responding to the local anesthetic, or the second dose afterward. They gassed her quickly as she protested that she couldn't breathe. They intubated her, and then they did what they had to do. I wasn't allowed in the room and had to sit in a chair in the hallway, but could tell something was going on. More and more doctors would be brought in, usually in a rush, but none would say anything to me. About a ten minutes into the room, I heard crying but I was so out of it, that I didn't realize that I had heard my son cry for the first time. It would be about 30 minutes more until I would see him for the first time, but I could hear him, he was alive and well. He was brought out and put in my arms by the midwife and I can tell you now that I would never put him down. He was my new purpose in life. 4.07 in the morning on Christmas Day, my life changed. 

The day wasn't over, however. I had my son, but I needed my wife. She was still in the room beyond the doors. More and more people were working on her and it took nearly another hour for them to get her back together. I don't know much about physiology, however, when I saw her for the first time. Her lips looking blue, her skin pale and sweaty. Her body completely limp. I thought the worst. I was so torn, with him in my arms, but her on the bed. Joy and sorrow.

She moved after a few moments, and later I heard her speak. This deep, raspy sound that I assumed was because of the intubation. She looked like she was in so much pain. She couldn't eat, her legs were still paralyzed from the quadruple anesthetics, and her vitals we low and dropping. Her blood pressure at its lowest was 60/40. I know nothing about what that means, but I can tell you it wasn't normal, and it wasn't right. The attending was more than a little concerned as well by the sound of her annoyance to the people that dumped her off in this state and the many doctors that were called into the room.

But when she looked at me, holding our son, when she eventually held him for the first time. Everything was right in the world. Everything else was just background noise. He and She were what were important. The rest could be explained in time. The rest didn't matter. We had done it. SHE had done it. He was here. Rowen Francis Stewart had arrived.