The Big Day...

Hey Emerson (and whoever else reads this) -

It's been exactly one week since you were born, and I'm finally to the point where I can type without shaking too much. That's not to say that a few tears won't be shed on this keyboard, so bear with me and rest assure they're happy tears.

And Emerson, I hope you like to read, because this may take awhile - but it's a great story and it's worthy of its length.

October 6th, 2009 was the most amazing day of my life... seriously. But it was also the scariest… seriously.

You see, Emerson, I've included two pictures to go with this "blog". One picture (A) is from 10:29 AM and the other (B) from 11:03 AM. The time before picture "A" was amazing and the immediate time after picture "B" was even more amazing; and although I'll talk about both of those times, it was the time in between those two pictures that tells the most amazing story of all. A story of bravery, resilience, fear, courage, optimism, appreciation for life, and most of all - love.

The Beginning:
It was about 2:40 AM (Tuesday morning/Monday night) and your Mom woke me saying, "Hey, come here I'm not sure if this is something." I woke up and in my ignorance had no idea whether or not it was indeed "something". It certainly wasn't what I was expecting "it" to be like. Luckily your Mom and Dad are technological gurus and we hopped on the ever-resourceful internet. Despite it's resourcefulness, even Google couldn't provide the answers we were looking for, so we did the next logical thing - we called the on-call nurse. After a few minutes, she called us back (half-asleep), confirmed our thoughts and instructed us to head to the hospital. We packed up the car with everything we would need for our trip, and as you'll learn about your Dad, I packed plenty of options for the day - so I thought.

The ride to the hospital was NOTHING like we had anticipated. We had expected your Mom to be breathing heavily and me going 20 miles over the speed limit - racing to the hospital barely making it before your arrival. That was not the case - at all. Instead, we drove just slightly over the speed limit (because speeding is against the law and your Dad doesn't break the law), had the music on low, and casual conversation to subside our nervousness. Thoughts of being parents, or worse - being turned away for a false alarm, were racing through our heads and guiding our conversation.

We got to the hospital a little before 4:00 AM and, to make a long story short, it was determined that The Big Day really was here and we needed to get ready for your arrival. After a lot of crazy questions, your Mom (in a silly green gown) and I were guided to a room that was fit for a king! It was a room I would have expected to see at a Ritz Carlton - the perfect setting for the arrival of someone so special. Again, nothing was as expected. We had never thought that your Mom would be so "comfortable" at this point and that your Dad would be so relaxed. But there we were, your Mom (hooked up to an IV, and still in the silly green gown) and I - walking around the "4th Floor" in circles - in an effort to expedite your arrival (we just couldn't wait to meet you!).

We didn't call anyone about our adventures until around 6:30 AM, when we called our parents (mainly to figure out who was going to watch your big brother, who happens to be a dog, Porter). And don't worry, he was in good hands with your Auntie Amy and Uncle Zach and his cousins Sadie and Belle. Right about the time when we called our parents, your Mom was pretty much confined to her bed with some medicine that was supposed to help speed everything up. Things started speeding up alright, and your grandparents showed up just in time to see your Mom starting to feel a lot of intense contractions - letting us know you were eager to meet the world. I kept monitoring the contractions and your heartbeat on a monitor - it was so cool to see your heart beating roughly 125 beats per minute. Shortly thereafter your Mom took some medicine that was going to make everything feel much better. We learned, however, that the medicine was not working the way it was supposed to, and your Mom was in a lot of pain. The doctors kept on trying to fix the medicine, but nothing seemed to be working right - your Mom was feeling everything. The contractions were literally going off the charts (seriously) and Mom was in tears, but oddly maintaining her composure and still able to laugh, joke and talk about things. And that is where I came into play. I was supposed to be there to support your Mom and lighten the mood. You should've seen me Emerson - I was driving her crazy by taking silly pictures in a hospital mask. That was about 10:29 AM.

A.
Scary Times:
Right around 10:30 AM the mood changed. With your grandparents and aunt in the room, Nurse Michelle burst into the room in a frantic state - pushing aside other medical personnel. She kept saying, "I need to find the baby, I need to find the baby!" and ordering people to do things that I couldn't understand. I didn't know what she was talking about because I knew exactly where the baby was - in your Mom's belly (but she never asked me). But then I noticed that the monitor that was displaying your heart-rate at nearly 125 beats per minute earlier, was now showing 56 beats per minute - which I knew wasn't good. She began pressing all over your Mom's belly and moving her in all kinds of positions looking for you and your precious heartbeat. She ordered your Mom to wear an oxygen mask to help regulate her breathing and help provide you with the oxygen you needed to survive. I'll never forget when they threw your Mom onto all fours searching for you. And Emerson, I wish you could've seen her… even with no feeling in half her body she was doing anything she could to save you. That's when I knew that your Mom was the most brave person in the whole world, and that because she loved you so much, she would do ANYTHING for you. I'll never forget the look in her eyes - constantly asking me, "Is he okay?" And at that point I didn't know the answer, but I kept telling her that she was doing great and that you would be okay - but I really didn't know. All I knew was that I was so scared and your Mom was so brave. I saw your heartbeat again - this time around 85 beats per minute - still not nearly enough for a little baby. Sometime during all the chaos, the nurse lifted up your Mom's silly green gown and noticed that she had fully dilated (which means you were well on your way). She went from 4.5 centimeters to nearly 10 centimeters in about an hour! You were, seemingly, ready to come out - and nobody even knew it!

Minutes later, they brought in your Mom's doctor to help with your delivery. Even in his effort to remain calm and composed, I could feel his sense of urgency. Like the nurse, the doctor was ordering people around trying to make sure both you and your Mom were safe. Evidently, your Mom's ultra-speedy dilation wasn't necessarily conducive to a normal, healthy birth. Nonetheless, the doctor ordered me to help hold your Mom's legs while she tried, with all her might, to push you out. There we were again, me holding your Mom's right leg - looking back and forth at the doctor and your Mom's eyes, and your Mom - no feeling in half her body, oxygen mask strapped to her face - pushing as hard as she possibly could repeatedly asking me if you were going to be alright. I assured her over and over that she was doing great but inside, I was more scared than I have ever been in my life. With each push the doctor would reach inside your Mom and try to see if he could pull you out, but after about 5 failed attempts he realized that we needed to do something else - FAST. With your heart rate hovering around 80 and no progress with the pushing, he ordered an emergency cesarean section and indicated that they need to move fast.

By this time there were at least 15 medical personnel in our Deluxe birthing suite - which was due in part to the number of anesthesiologists that were already in the room - working on your Mom. A nurse approached me and told me that your Mom was going to the Operating Room and we would be moving very quickly. She asked if I could keep up - I guess she didn't realize that any given day I could run circles around her, or maybe she did realize that my legs were now like rubber. She gave me a full-body one-piece outfit, some booties and a hat to wear. She also suggested I bring a camera (which made me feel so much better about this whole ordeal). And between you and me, I tried to put one of the booties on my head in the heat of the moment - I felt kinda silly.

They transferred your Mom from one bed to another and we began our speedy trek to the OR - and boy did we move fast. I remember two of the doctors (both anesthesiologists) talking about the weather on the way - it was raining outside. When we got to the doors of the OR I was asked to stay outside until notified - while they prepped your Mom. It seemed like I was there, by myself, forever. Doctors were rushing in-and-out while I remained on a little black stool outside the door where both you and your Mom were being prepared for surgery. All kinds of scary thoughts were going through my head but I was trying to remain optimistic. After all, they did advise me to bring my camera. And don't tell anyone, but since nobody was around (especially your Mom), I cried a lot and prayed even more. I've never felt so close to God.

After what seemed like hours, but was surely just a few minutes, Dr. Peter Pan (seriously Emerson, that was his name), opened the door and asked me to come into the OR. A nurse ushered me to yet another black stool and asked that I stay there. It was definitely the best seat in the house - right beside your Mom's head. I sat next to her glowing face - still radiating with bravery and optimism. I held her hand and, hiding my tears, told her that she was doing great and things were looking good (I had actually heard your heart rate was going back up near 100 beats per minute - but still was really scared). Your Mom, in all her beauty, looked kind of funny because all I could see was her head. The rest of her body was hidden behind a blue curtain - where all the doctors were working their magic. The time sitting in that little black stool felt like hours, but in reality I'm sure it was just a few minutes - just minutes before I heard the best sound I've ever heard in my life. I remember hearing someone say "Here comes the baby!" and then hearing the beautiful sound of your voice - a cry that continues to ring in my ears - and I love it. When I heard that sound and saw you being lifted in the air I cried like I never have before - happy tears. I looked at your Mom, gave her a kiss and she asked me, "Is he okay?" I assured her that you were fine. I quickly got out my camera and began taking pictures of you (you'll learn that I'm kind of a picture-taking fanatic - I take after my mom). That was at 11:03 AM - you were born just two minutes earlier.

B.Transition:
The next few moments were filled with much happiness and relief. I continued to take pictures (over 50 pictures in the next 30 minutes) while you were cleaned and then I finally got the chance to hold you in my arms. You were so tiny, and to be honest I was quite nervous about holding you. You just seemed so fragile, although you had just proven how strong of a little boy you really were. It took about 12 minutes before your Mom got to see you and hold you in her arms, but she was just so excited that you were safe and doing well. And when she finally did see you, it was one of the most beautiful exchanges I've ever seen - between two of the most courageous people I've ever known. She could only hold you for a second while the doctor's finished fixing her surgery and the nurses finished cleaning you but it was magical nonetheless. When all that was done, you and your Mom were once again reunited, but this time she was able to hold you in her arms while you were wrapped in so many blankets that you looked at least twice your size. She held you from that moment and all the way as we were transferred to the Recovery Unit - the amazing duo together again. You, me and your Mom stopped and saw your grandparents and aunt on the way to Recovery but then the three of us headed to our destination. You stayed in Recovery for only a few minutes when I, along with a nurse, brought you down to the nursery where you would hang-out for the next couple of hours being checked and cleaned. Your grandparents and aunt watched you through the nursery windows while I went back to be with your Mom. When I got back to her, she was looking great and so many people were impressed at how well she was doing - I know I was. The time together in Recovery allowed your Mom and I to chat a little bit about the morning's adventures - in a fairly calm setting - with wires and electrodes stuck to your Mom.

Finally, your Mom and I were transferred to what would be home for the next few days. We got to our room (which was nice but not nearly as nice as the Deluxe Birthing Suite) and nobody was there. Those first few moments were kind of calming - peace and quiet. You were brought to us shortly thereafter and our family members followed. The next few days were spent just holding you in our arms - recalling the previous days events and excited about the future - appreciating life. You were held and adored by so many people in those first few days - grandparents, GREAT-grandparents, aunts, friends… and don't worry I have pictures of it all. Your Mom and I quickly learned what it will be like to live life with a lack of sleep but an abundance of love - a small price to pay for something so great. You started off excelling right away as you passed your hearing test and scored a nearly perfect score (9) on your Apgar tests! Not that it surprised me one bit, but I know I'm still the most proud Dad in the world. You also had your first surgery - a little procedure that most boys go through, and hopefully never remember.

While talking about the week's events many people were saying that you were just being indecisive (like your Dad) and couldn't decide if you wanted to come out or not. Others were saying you just wanted to make a grand entrance - and did you ever. Regardless of your motive, although the outcome was amazing, try not to scare me like that ever again - please. You and your Mom taught me a lot that day and I couldn't be more proud (and envious) of you both - the optimism, courage and resilience that each of you displayed taught me that there is nothing stronger than love, prayer, and the appreciation for life. A helpful reminder for us all.

Your Mom held you all the way out of the hospital, we put you in the car for your first ride, and we were finally on our way HOME to continue this amazing journey as a family.

Emerson, I'm going to wrap things up, but there really is so much more to say. And there will be more to come in the next few days but I promise I won't write as much as I've written here - unless I want to.

Your Mom and I Love You more than words (or anything else) can ever express and we are so excited about being your parents and continuing on life's journey together - as a family. Porter is excited too - he told me. I'd be fine if it was all a little less eventful - at least less scary. But no matter what, just know how special you are and how much you are loved.

Love,

Dad & Mom