Leave it up to me to get this crazy idea to maintain a blog about my life as a dad. As if I would ever have the time to update it. Yeah yeah, excuses, excuses you say. Well let me, at the least, take you through that first morning, the day our Little Bird was born.
Exactly 13 weeks ago, New Mommy and I packed our bags and anxiously walked into the hospital for a scheduled c-section at the ungodly hour of 4:30am. After filling out paperwork we sat down in an empty waiting room with our hearts racing. Hours seemed to pass as we sat uncomfortably. Little Bird was restless all night in the womb, and was still kicking. He must of sensed New Mommy’s anticipation. Somewhere during those hours, a woman waddled into the waiting room gasping for air and moaning so loud it reverberated through the entire lobby atrium. Her partner, retreving a wheelchair from the hospital nurse, was as cool as a cucumber, which was funny to me because the woman seemed ready to give birth to a mother f-ing hippopotamus! Nurses rushed her to the labor and delivery floor, just as another nurse came down to bring us to the operating floor.
There, the medical team hooked New Mommy up to a butload of wires and monitors and I was handed my medical gound. We listened to the nurses gossip about our doctors for a bit. Apparently the nurses were ga ga over the oncologist who would be removing the ovarian cyst from New Mommy. One of the nurses asked us what our baby’s name was going to be. Desmond. “Ooooh, like the guy from Lost? Oh I am soooooo in love with him,” she confessed. The gossip nurses eventually wheeled New Mommy into the OR, and I was placed in a holding pattern, with another new daddy. We introduced ourselves and shared stories, which turned out to be interesting because he just relocated from the UK. All this conversation and his cool freakin’ accent helped ease my nerves. A while later he was cleared for the OR, and I was left to my own thoughts. My muscles tightened. My mouth was dry. My heart began to race again. I had to pee. Great. And then the double doors swung open. It was the nurse- “We’re ready for you.” Gulp. I decided to hold my pee.
Entering the OR, I was greeted by a gang of medical professionals, shiny instruments, beeping monitors, and—the smell of burning flesh? What the?! New Mommy was already cut open! I quickly turned away. This New Daddy was not about to go down for the count. But the smell of burning flesh, which, thank God I was warned about earlier, smelled a lot like burnt hair. The anesthesiologist sat me down next to a drugged New Mommy. Grasping New Mommy’s hand I told her I loved her. She told me she couldn’t believe I was putting her through this. I’d most likely make the same comment if I was cut open while floating in outer space.
“Are you ready?” the doctor asked. I fumbled for my fancy new digital SLR. After weeks of practicing, I suddenly forgot how to use it. Then we heard him. Our Little Bird. Wailing away as he was pulled from New Mommy’s warm and fuzzy womb. It was amazing. Sure 16 years from now he’s gonna do things to make my blood pressure boil over, but on this day, he could do no wrong.
Little Bird was brought to the heat lamp in the OR, and they began cleaning him up. I was frozen, staring at him in awe. The nurses had to snap me out of it. “Take some photos dad!”, one of them yelled. Sometimes I regret having a camera because it has this ability to detach me from the beauty of a moment. As I came to, I regained my composure and fired off, what must of been 150 photos of naked Little Bird, who was staring right back at me by now, probably trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I was eventually able to hold Little Bird, and I brought him to New Mommy, who was still being worked on. We cried. She kissed Little Bird for the first time. Shortly after, the nurses escorted Little Bird and myself to recovery where he was weighed and checked of his vitals. New daddy UK was there with his new baby. He looked just as lost as me. But we were happy, glowing proudly as all new dads do after such an experience. A few minutes of checking up and Little Bird was ready for me. Swaddled like a glow worm, I held him tight. Time seemed to stand still. It was perfect.
Today is Little Bird’s 13 week birthday. Happy Birthday Little Bird, I love you so much.