The Experience Part II

You leave your wife in L&D to empty the SUV of all the paraphernalia you obediently brought to the hospital that day at the guidance learned from several books on having a baby. The list included: two pillows, toiletries, panic button (for you), snacks, your iPod, magazines, ejection seat (for you or any medical personnel who get fiesty with your wife), books, your vat of cold medications due to your having gotten "THE CRUD" one week prior, a change of clothing, sleeping clothes, horse tranquilizer (for you, not for your wife), and a healthy portion of patience, positivity, prudence, and partnership.

The medical personnel begin to attach all sorts of monitors and equipment to your wife. It all appears state-of-the-art. When it comes time to put in her IV, the technician frowns like a clown who has just had a pigeon poop all over his big shiny red shoes. The technician, as skilled and pleasant as she is, cannot get it started after blowing through one of Meghan's valves. Enter our faithful nurse - the one who has been with us since the first exam that morning. She also blows a valve and then tries a second time. On this third time, Meghan has her arm penetrated like a worm on a fishing hook, as the nurse goes at it with determination... and she struggles. The needle is under your wife's skin, but no blood has entered it yet. So the nurse turns the needle while keeping it under the skin. She searches for a vein in which to insert the sharp tip. Your wife squirms as little as possible while restraining herself from making any large movements that might make it even harder for the nurse to do her job. The burning feels like one tiny area of you arm is being dragged heavily across a carpet repeatedly. As the nurse continues to work away, you realize you had become distracted by your wife's pain laden breathing. As you look back to the nurse you see that she has turned the needle - twisting it to a 9o degree angle to the veins! Man does this look like it hurts. She then gives up and your wife exhales heavily.

While you two talk about how hard it is to find her veins today, you both hear people whispering a specific name. The name is not important, it's how the name sounds that is telling. It could be "Gunner...Hunter...Rockwell... - I can't be sure. But it sounds intimidating. Although you do not know if the staff is calling security, listing the names of their favorite wrestlers, or summoning the power of some mythical god, you get the impression that the guy the staff are talking about is the expert on putting in IVs.

Not 2 minutes later, a tall, chizzled man of about 23 walks into the room and making very little eye contact, gently asks a few questions to your wife while he flips open cabinets and drawers assempling his little tray of sharp goodies and tubing. Clearly this is the go-to-guy for IVs. You wonder, "why didn't they bring him in 1st?" With one determined kneel at your wife's bedside and a very steady hand, this technician inserts the needle underneath the skin of your wife's arm, pauses, palpates and drives it into a vein. The little catheter alights with red, and he advances it fully into place. Nothing says smooth sailing like 4 tries just to get te IV started! You hope this isn't foreshadowing for the epidural.

There you are like two children camped out under the overhang of the boxoffice that will be opening in the morning with tickets to the sequel of the Star Wars movie. You are pumped up with anticipatory glee, yet conscious of the significant amount of pain and work that must occur in order to reach the impending crescendo. Your wife's doctor enters the room and examines your wife again. She is now 70% effaced and 5 cm dialated. Your wife and you beam with excitement as she tells you "this baby is going to come tonight." Your wife remains connected to all sorts of equipment and has now been administered Pitocin -- the hormone that initiates and regulates contractions (it was mentioned in an earlier post I had on this blog which was not a popular post due to its description of ways to trigger labor through intimacy).

The doctor finally departs before mentioning to your wife that she can have her epidural whenever she would like. The doctor warns that it will take a good 30 min to get the anesthesiologist onto the floor. It is 11:10 when your doctors leaves the room. You look at your wife as if to say "What now?" She shudders as the next contraction begins and you hold her hand and ask if there's anything you can do. You breathe with her (you do it as much for you as you do for her). She asks you when you think she should get the epidural and states the pros and cons. You supportively reassure her that it is up to her. It is now 11:30. After another few contractions, your wife appears on the verge of tears due to the pain of the last few -- now very regular and very strong contractions. You say to her. Let's order the epidural. She agrees without a word. In fact, you surmise that she has been waiting for your input before doing this. You think to yourself, "My input? You are the one in pain. How could my opinion matter?" And then you realize how much she is relying on you during this whole event. You more clearly understand the role she expects you to play in order to meet her needs. You're feel honored.

Your wife has just had a catheter put in as the nurse anesthetist enters the room. This guy looks like he should be a center for the Celtics. He asks a few questions, and foolishly tells us he hasn't worked on the Labor and Delivery unit in a "long time." Based on the IV fiasco, you're not exactly chuckling along with him when he tells you this. He informs your wife that she will have to hold absolutely still during any contractions that occur while he is trying to insert the needle. She takes a deep breath and agrees. You are utterly dumbfounded that someone can tolerate the intense contractions at 5-minute intervals, let alone remain absolutely still during one. The nurse anesthetist lets you both know he will begin right when the next contraction ends. Your wife indicates that the contraction is ending. In your mind you hear "Ding, Ding" like the sound of boxers beginning the round. He goes to work on your wife's back. She is breathing hard, and clenching your hand as you stand in front of her. She sits on the edge of the bed with her gown pulled up to the back of her neck. Her eyes convey fear and pain. You are calm, optimistic, confident that she will succed in remaining still as the extra-long needle is inserted in her back, between the vertebrae into the spinal column. And at the same time, you feel your involvment and impact on your wife is limited right now. She tenses with pain as a contraction begins. You continue to hold her hand and breathe with her feeling about as ineffective as one would feel if attmpting to put our a fire with a squirt gun. Just as your wife makes a facial grimace, illustrating the intensity of her pain and extent of her efforts to tolerate this, a seasoned Lt Col nurse squats in front of your wife, grabs one of her hands and commands her attention in the most gentle, persuasive, graceful way possible. It almost seems impossible that someone can take control of another person's attention with only her presence and eye-contact. The veteran woman locks her hazel eyes with your wife, silently reeling her in. As your wife remains focused intently on the nurse's stare, you hear the Lt Col speaking in a steady, peaceful, yet deliberate voice. She coaches your wife to remain still and breath. She somehow soothes your wife's nerves by describing what is happening and informing her of exactly how well she is doing and what impact your wife's efforts will deliver. Your wife appears emboldened. She makes it through the contraction without any problems. After another 2-3 minutes the nurse anesthetist announces that the procedure is complete. He asks your wife is she can feel sensations in various locations. The room exhales, along with the people in it. You and your wife smile and thank the expert nurse for her help. As she leaves you both remark at how powerfully effective the nurse was at helping your wife focus and cope with the painful procedure while tolerating a painful contraction. You both relax until the next "round."

One-Month Birthday

Stella is one month old today! It is hard to believe it. She has already gained 3-4 pounds and grown 2-3 inches. She is starting to smile at us in response to us smiling, and she is making cooing noises. It is so amazing. She is no longer having intense crying fits. We've decided she didn't have colic -- we are just new parents who were shocked at how much crying there actually can be. She probably does have some gas issues though. But Baby Mylecon has been our hero. For anyone thinking of getting pregnant or already pregnant (this means you Annie, Cindy & Don) check the website below. It's pretty darn cool!

http://museum.thetech.org/ugenetics/eyeCalc/eyecalculator.html

More pictures

I thought that I should get on here and post some pics. Stella will be 4 weeks this Friday. I can't believe it. She is getting chunky!! We think it is adorable. Here are some proud parent moments...

Stella and her boyfriend Reace got together the other day for a playdate. Or more like Stella slept and he played with the adult kind of date. He has 6 months on her!

Updates

Stella has officially moved up to a larger diaper. It's a big step for her...actually it's just amazing that she has already grown so much that she necessitates a larger diaper to fit around her legs, hips and tushy. She probably weighs about 10lbs now. She is allso taller, as we had to expand how the cusions fit around her head in her carseat -- her head was getting too scrunched up. She is also beginning to be sort of cranky in the late afternoon/early evenings. She is sleeping in 2 hour increments now routinely at night. During the day she may awaken more frequently rooting around to be nursed. Here are a few pictures. Grandma Corso is here helping us out for the week. She is just as hooked on this little booger as mommy and daddy are!







I love this blanket my Aunt Kelly and Uncle Keith sent me. Why the heck are you putting it on me in 94 degree weather?!! Can't you see I want to snuggle with it when it's cold, not when we're outside in public where it's hot? And where are my matching bib and burp cloth they sent me?






















Grandma Corso getting a little choked up upon meeting her first granddaughter.

More pics

Here are a few more recent pictures of this cutie!












"Did just hear you say I look fat in this? Oh no you did--int!"
















"I am so sneaky HA HA HA HA HA..."

















"Girlfriend, life is just so funny sometimes."

2-Week Check-up

Stella had her checkup yesterday. She now weighs 8 pounds 11 ounces. This little one has gained about 1.5 pounds in just 2 weeks! She is also 21.25 inches long (a 1.25 inch gain from her birth length). The doctor says she looks great. There is no trace of jaundice anymore and she cleared us to use baby Mylicon (for gas) for when Stella gets fussy after feeding. We've used 2 doses in the last 16 hours and so far it has been great.

Stella has been sleeping more regularly. For the past 3 nights she has slept for no less than 90 minutes at a time, and in most cases, in 2 hour increments before waking up to nurse. This is more regular that she has ever been thus far. We are excited too, as it makes things more predictable and provides us more sleep.

That's the news for now!

Personality

Either this girl has lots of personality, or her gas is really getting the best of her.

"LOOK INTO MY EYES... I CAN TELL YOU HAVE COME HERE FOR A REASON. LET'S SEE HERE, SHALL I TELL YOU WHAT I AM THINKING?"

Stella has begun imitating various American celebrities. This is her Hulk Hogan pose. Tell me she doesn't do a bang up job of combining these two HULKSTER poses. HULK-A-MANIA BABY YEAH!!!!

Visitors

Dr. Clancy came down lst week to meet Stella. In this picture he reminds me of the Hamburgler from McDonald's.
Marlaena and Chuck also visited during that same week. We had a great time. Here are a few pics.

Pirates of the Gulf Coast

Of course I am referring to the next installment of Johnny Depp's Disney movie Pirates of the Carribbean. But this one takes place on the Gulf Coast of Florida and there is a stand in for Johnny Depp. Her name is Stella Corso, a very formidable foe for any who get in her way. Just look at that evil pirate eye...and that skull cap she wears. That fist she is making shows that she means business! There's no bally-hoo, shenanigans, or tom foolery when it comes to dealing with this one!

"Gaaaar me matee. I be searching for the buried treasure. Yo ho ho and a bottle of milk! Shiver me timbers, you'll walk the plank if I don't get my poopy diaper changed!"

I got a fever...

....and the prescription for the cure is exterminating yellow jackets.

This is the closest I could come to a beekeeper's protective suit. In 90 degree weather, this was REALLY uncomfortable. However, I'd consider marketing it as the quickest weight loss program available, as it was much like a personal sauna...without the towels or rocks. After gearing up in this outfit, I donned 6 cans of hornet/wasp spray and doused the area. I the process I was stung one more time. That makes a grand total of 14 little gifts from these precious creatures of nature!

Yellow Jacket Nest

The perpetrators and a visual representation of their skillful army plotting the maneuver to attack me. The scene of the attack: my backyard -- the future site of the new shed we are assembling.

How I should have dressed to avoid being attacked by hundreds -- literally 100s OF YELLOW JACKETS! See below.

Fortunately I ran very fast away from the nest of assailants while slapping all parts of my body to kill, crush, maim or otherwise immobilize them. Total wounds I suffered: 13. Nothing says Stella's 1-week birthday like 13 yellow jacket stings in one sitting! Ahh, the adventures continue... We are on our way to the store to buy a vat of Raid Yellow Jacket poison.

A group of yellow jackets

This is NOT what I meant when I referenced a group of Yellow Jackets...although arguably experiencing this group of yellow jackets would have been more painful.

The Experience

It is Thursday evening. You are dead-tired, feeling under-the-weather, and inundated with little TO DO lists for work items that need to be completed (everything from watering those two pathetic little plants you keep in your office window whose mortality you test on a weekly basis with your poor horticulture skills, to checking your email, to writing that report -- or 5 that you've been meaning to get done for the last month). Concomitantly your mind is flooded by HONEY DO lists, and additional manly projects like mowing the lawn, installing a shed, scooping your dog's poop, and pathetically trying to convince your wife that the items you noted on the most recent episode of your favorite home improvement show are more important priorities in the budget than food, gas, or the mortgage. While these thoughts haphazardly fly through your head the way black flies swarm around a trash can at the beach, you look at your watch and realize with relief that tomorrow is Friday. Yet, you are also struck with the stressful reality that this leaves only one more workday to get done the bazillion things you feel like you have to do. You and your wife go to bed.



An hour later your wife wakes you up as she pulls her body from the bed, telling you she cannot sleep due to a contraction. You shoot up in bed (not the way heroin addicts do, but rather the way you do when you just remembered that you left your keys in the ignition of the 7-series BMW you just bought). Man I wish I had a BMW...actually no I don't. Moving right along, you dart out of bed rushing to your wife's aid. Heck, YOU'RE not the one who is about to have her insides dredged from both ends in the name of childbirth, SHE IS. So you give every effort you've got to really feel her pain. But the problem is you can't. You're kind of left mentally deliberating over the most critical decision you've recently made: "do I follow her around as she paces uncomfortably? or do I dig into that left-over cheddar and olive-loaf sandwich sitting in my fridge?" No, actually, you are quite sure that you will be willingly and closely shadowing her through the next few minutes as she tries to cope with the reality that her insides are practicing their upcoming attempt to squeeze something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a Zip-Loc bag. You have never felt a contraction, unless having a churning stomach that results in explosive diarrhea counts. But let's be honest, it doesn't count. You have no idea what she is experiencing. What you do know, is that pacing back and forth seems to help these pass more tolerably. So you immediately follow by her side. Your litte labrador puppy also gets the message she should be helping, so she clings to your heels as you pace. This is also comforting in some strange way. It is as if she is also willing to support your wife's difficult moment.

You and your wife return to bed after a few moments only to be jolted from your sleep again several minutes later. You think to yourself "man, this pregnancy thing is tough. She can't even get any sleep." You three repeat your pacing ritual. As you slip back beneath your sheets you peek at the clock and realize that it has only been 10 minutes since your wife's first little episode of the evening. Thankfully, you think to yourself, it is only 11:00. There is plenty of sleep left to be conquered in Linen Land. Lying back down you doze off just long enough to begin dreaming about that European vacation you've been deaming about ever since returning from your honeymoon with your wife in Italy during June 2005. At this point, the cycle repeats itself again. You are now certain that something is happening with your unborn child and your wife's baby-den. You begin tracking the timing of the episodes before facing the ambivlent reality that it is gametime! GAMETIME?!! You are both thrilled and nervous, wrought with anticipation of an amazing event that will be sandwiched between excruciating pain, and sleepless nights. You shrug it off and proceed tracking these episodes before rifling through every pregnancy book you've got. Finding solutions for managing these periods would be ideal at this moment, as would winning a guest shot on the gameshow Deal or No Deal. But some miniscule inkling in the very back of your mind tips you off that the latter - though ideal, is highly unlikely.

Four AM rolls around and you've both been counting for hours. Two hours later you call your doctor to consult about these symptoms. They have remained the same: intense sharp cramping that precipitates every 10 minutes lasting a duration of 30-40 seconds, abating gradually and detectable as they begin. That sounds very clinical, but who's kidding who, your doctor already knows exactly what's going on with you. It is the "latent phase" of labor. So, she asks you to walk into the Labor and Delivery (L&D) clinic around 7ish. You throw the bags ino your car that you packed 3 weeks ago in preparation for this moment to alleviate any added pressure that would ensure by having to think logically.

On the way to the hopspital you call your commanding officer (your immediate boss for those who are not familiar with the military lingo) to inform him you are not coming in today due to your wife going into labor. While you say this calmly, respectfully, and clearly, he hears this: "Sir, you are going to have to attend that 1300 meeting of all the commanders (top executives) on base in order to brief (present to) them on the program I have been managing. I cannot brief them due to a family emergency." He hesitated with his words, but recovered skillfully -- likely because he is a supportive commander. You discuss it no further with him except to try to reassure him that he has looked at your slides previously, and he knows the info. just as well as you do. This seems to do little in the way of quelling any panic you detected in his voice. Nonetheless, you hang up the phone and 20 minutes later you and your wife arrive at the hospital.

You have spent the last 9 hours with your wife helping her through short bouts of pain every 10 minutes. The nurse is friendly and bright and fills you in on what is about to happen. Your wife's doctor enters the room and as you were informed, she checks your wife. Four days before your wife described her uterus as "Fort Knox" due to her not being dialated or effaced. At this examination, however, the doctor states that she is 50% effaced and 3 cm dialated. She recommends that your wife labor at home, as it oculd be several hours before she is ready to actually begin pushing.

While the doctor leaves to consult with the treatment team you receive a voicemail informing you that the briefing is actually at 0900 -- not 1300. So even if your wife goes into "active labor" you'd still have ample time to do the briefing. This was not your commander leaving you this voicemail, but a friend who intuited that you had mixed up the times. It is now 0830. You have to be across base in 15 minutes dressed in my uniform. Suprisingly, your designer blue jeans, sneakers, and Kelly-green Greg Norman T-Shirt would not be appropriate for work...nor for a meeting with the highest ranking officers on the installation.

You tell your wife you'll meet her in your office where she has agreed to wait until you return from your briefing. You bolt to the car to do a superman-like switcharoo of your clothes. You zip across base and arrive 10 min early to your briefing. Since the room is very warm, they hand you a towel at the door and greet you "Welcome to the sauna." OKay, so they don't really do this, but you are acutely aware of how warm and stuffy the room is. And it is only half full so far.

You finish the briefings unscathed and jump back into the car intending to fly back across the flightline to the hospital where your patient wife has likely been laboring without you. When you enter the stifling hot car (remember it's July in Florida) you are suddenly reminded of the kind of childhood days when there was an ice cream truck jingling down the summer block. As you paid for your tasty little quarter frozen treat, you found yourself racing; you competed with the sun to finish the snack before it could melt it in your hands. However, in this moment the ice cream was my brow, and the sweat was my brow melting. Yes it is dramatic, but cut me a FRICK-ING break here. I am working with what I've got here -- a blog.

You crank the air conditioning and check your voicemail, as you see your wife has called while you were stumbling your way through a presentation in the Air Force hammam -- uh, I mean meeting. Sorry. Anyway, the voicemail indicates that your wife is actually going to be admitted at that moment due to the complicating factor of having slightly high blood pressure. Hmmm, okay. Don't panic, just think: I will meet my first child tonight. Excellent. I can live with all of this pageantry if the result is meeting that sweet Stella Lynn. High-tailing it like Charlton Heston pursues Bambi, you proceed to return to the hospital just in time to join your wife in her hospital room in L&D. When you arrive there she tells you what the doctors have shared with her regarding her progress and what can be expected over the next several hours. You are relieved, yet pumped to begin this adventure - though others like sayyyyy, your wife (but not mine) might describe it as torture. And so it begins...

I HAVE TO CHANGE DIAPERS. TO BE CONTINUED...

Day 2 at home with Stella

Now I just want to put this out there. I am biased b/c I am her dad, but doesn't she look so cute? It is so amazing to have such a beautiful litttle daughter.






GAS SMILES...eh' we'll take 'em while we wait for the real smiles to start in a few weeks.




Here is an example of an adorable picture of her!

Stella Lynn Corso has arrived!

We got home today shortly after noon. What a trip! I feel like we've been on vacation. Here are the pictures of our lively and lovely little lady, Stella. I am posting the other pics at the link below. I'll rant a bit later...after a little more sleep and food. Thank you all for your calls and warm regards! This has been one amazing experience that was different in a few ways than either Meghan or I expected. I am sure Stella will bring many more unexpected things over the next several decades.

To see all the pictures we took, check out this weblink:

http://www.stellalynncorso.shutterfly.com

In the next few pages are a few of my favorites that may not be included in the shutterfly page. To be honest I forget if I saved them elsewhere - sleep deprivation will do that to you! As all of you parents are well aware. :)

This is the beatiful new mommy bonding with her little Stella!

I'm really excited, but I have no idea why because I am too young to formulate thoughts yet. Maybe I just pooped! The way I clench these fists, whatchout! I might throw a right jab if you mess with me!

This is Grandma Clancy laughing at how cute I am.

I just want you to find my left foot and get it into this outfit!!! Why do you always lose one of my feet!!