It Started With A Drip

I was recently asked what it was like experiencing the birth of my son, Oliver. I took a moment in retrospect. Not because I have a hard time remembering (something like that it unforgettable), but because it was truly an incredible thing. The story went a little something like this.

 It was half past midnight when my wife (Lori) woke me, followed by the sound of water dripping on the floor. I bolted upright in one shot like that old 90’s game “Don’t Wake Daddy,” to find Lori standing next to the bed, sporting a look somewhere between shocked and confused. Did she pee? (You know, pregnant women do that kind of stuff.) Did her water break? What the flip was going on?

 Short of pulling out my old chemistry set, we did everything from analyzing the color of the puddle to the smell of it. We stood there, scratching our heads like a perplexed Sherlock and Watson. So what did we do? We called time-out and looked it up online. Apparently, amniotic fluid is typically clear and nearly odorless, not acidic like urine (Thanks, birth.com.)

 After a call to the doctor, we hauled ass to the hospital, still somewhat unsure of whether or not this was the moment we had been waiting for.  After checking in at the maternity wing at South Miami Hospital, it was confirmed that Lori was definitely in labor. Ermahgerd, this was actually happening!

 We got a room around 1:30am and Lori was at two centimeters then, with contractions happening roughly every three minutes. The next few hours consisted of countless nurses and a visit from the anesthesiologist who graced my wife with the gift of epidural. Sometime around 5am, our main nurse came in to check on the dilation and the expression on her face was priceless. It seems she hadn’t expected what she found and ended up using my wife as a hand puppet. Lori was surprisingly fully dilated. Page the doc, stat!

 The doctor arrived sometime around 6am. Not our doctor of course… he was on vacation. How about the secondary doctor? Nope, he was out of town as well. “So who did you get?” you ask.  The one doctor we hadn’t met before, who thankfully happened to be one hell of an OBGYN. He was very matter-of-fact with an impressively calming presence. Fifteen minutes after his arrival, it was game time. “Push, push, push! Ok. Again!” After some impressive exertion on Lori’s part, Oliver was born just 45 minutes later at 7:02am on August 22, 2014.

It was both the most impacting and breathtaking thing I have ever experienced. Cue the waterworks. Yes, I cried. You know who else cried? Everyone. Because that baby was beautiful as fuck, even with those puffy newborn eyes and all that birth goop.

Stay tuned for a follow-up post to this very soon, as we’ve had that little stud home with us for a little over two weeks now and it has been nothing short of eventful. The article will contain stories about a weaponized baby dick, poop prodding, demon possession and so much more.

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