Dear Jack...

Never accept advice from piano-playing drunks. But if you do, this one's not so bad:



Love,

Daddy

Jack gets weighed

Dear Jack...

This is my favorite Christmas song:



This one's pretty good, too:



Love,

Daddy

He's just so serious

"I hear what you're saying…"



"But I just don't believe it."



"Perhaps I'll consider your proposal."



"Denied!"

Dear Jack...

About a year from now, Mommy and I will bundle you up, head to the nearest mall and deposit you squarely in the lap of an old, chubby bearded guy who isn't me. It'll go down something like this:



Also, your Mom and I will take your picture, and then we'll mail copies of it to your grandparents.

I just wanted to apologize in advance for that.

Love,

Daddy

(photo courtesy of The Chicago Tribune)

Dear Jack...

Make sure you do stuff like this, if not in practice then in spirit:



Love,

Daddy

A not-a-smile smile

All the books tell us that babies lack the emotional capacity to smile until about eight weeks. We got this picture today:



It's not the first one we've seen and we've started calling them not-a-smile smiles. Whatever they're called, we hope you enjoy them as much as we do.

Good day today.

I've got a binky

I'm only sleeping

That's our boy!

Everyone is doing well after a crazy night. We got to the hospital yesterday at about 4:30 p.m. and labs showed Amy had severe preeclampsia. By 7:30 or so, her doctor said it was "baby time." She went to the O.R. 20 minutes later… and 30 minutes after that Jack said, "Hello world!"

Amy's blood pressure is under control and we're waiting on labs to come back to see how her liver function is. So far so good. The NICU thinks Jack can come off the ventilator sometime today, but he's gonna be here a while… likely until his scheduled due date (Jan. 20). In some cases NICU kids can go home up to a week early, but that depends on how they do. They tell me he's a strong kid… likes to fight the tubes and nurses. That's my boy!

There's a chance that Amy can get down to the NICU this afternoon and see Jack for longer than the few minutes they got last night.

Hello World!

Today's my birthday. Four pounds, one ounce. Sixteen inches long. I may be small, but I'm tough as nails.

For those that joined this program already in progress...

Okay, so here it is. The Birth Story. Nothing gross in here, I promise. I don't want to bore you with all of specifics, so I will try to be brief. I'll try not to use a lot of fancy words or medical mumbo jumbo but there might be a little of it in here just so I can sound like I know what I'm talking about.

December 8th I woke up feeling like CRAP. I called out sick to work and waited for my 2:30 pre-natal visit with my OB-GYN, Dr. Weister. This was a routine visit. Remember that as you read on.

Dr. Weister was running late since he was in the middle of his third delivery of the day. I waited until 3:00 and was called in for my weight and BP check and to pee in a cup for the 50th time. My BP was 170/40. Twice. It had never been higher than 110/60 for the past 8 months. The nurse looked concerned and went to get the doctor. He took my BP again and it was 175/40. Without looking concerned -- he never looked concerned -- he told me that his diagnosis was toxemia/pre-eclampsia and that he would be checking me in to the hospital for 24 hours of monitoring. That's all. Just monitoring.

I went to pick up Rob from work and we went home to pack an overnight bag for me. We arrived at the hospital by 4:00 and were in a bed by 4:10. I put on a gown, my history was taken, they put a BP cuff on me, hooked me up to a fetal monitor, took my temperature and that was that. Or so we thought.

The nurses had me order dinner. Veggie burger and a salad for those that are interested in that sort of thing.

Dr. Weister arrived around 6:00 and didn't seem too worried about anything. That wouldn't last long. The baby's heart rate decelerated. Once. Twice. Dr. Weister gave us the news that the monitoring was over. We would be having a baby tonight. He gave us the option to try for a vaginal (sorry...kind of graphic, I know) birth (which he strongly discouraged us from) or an emergency C-section.

Funny side note: Our 2nd childbirth prep class was currently beginning down the hall as we were making this decision. We didn't know how to breathe. We didn't know what a focal point was. We didn't know how to time contractions. The baby room wasn't done. My baby shower had been only 2 nights before. We made the decision quickly that we didn't know what the hell we were doing and agreed to the surgery. Rob went down the hall to tell our class that we wouldn't be attending after all. I'm not sure if he asked for a partial refund or not...

So much for that routine visit: 7:00 brought a flurry of activity. IVs for me, magnesium sulfate to lower my blood pressure, scrubs and a silly hat for Rob. A quick e-mail to everyone to let them know what was happening. A call to our friend, Laura, to come pick up the house keys so she could take care of the dog and the cat for the evening. A visit from my gorgeous anesthesiologist to discuss how he could best control my pain.

By 7:30 we were in the surgical suite and I was getting my spinal block. Aaaaah. Lovely spinal block. Couldn't feel a thing. Surgical techs needed to lift my legs onto the table because I couldn't feel anything below my ribcage. This was the only part of the whole ordeal that Rob didn't see. Perhaps it would be just too much for the father-to-be to see a 6-inch needle being inserted into his wife's back (sorry again, a little graphic.)

The room was full of people. Dr. Weister, the anesthesiologist, 6 surgical techs, 2 Rn's and a full Neonatal team ready for the worst but hoping for the best. 8:22 p.m. "Happy Birthday, Jack!" shouted the whole room. One big cry and then nothing. Jack was quickly weighed, measured and examined and then swaddled and handed to me. I checked for perfect ears. No idea why. They were, indeed, perfect. Rob joined the Neonate team and I was stitched and stapled and reassured. Rob was back with me within the hour with a full report that Jack weighed 4 lbs 1 oz and was 16 inches long. So tiny.

I was out of recovery and back in my room by 10:00 and Rob sent out the crucial details to everyone and I looked at the zillion photos that Rob had taken for me. The report from the NICU was good. No major medical issues, no need for oxygen or respiratory assistance. No medications. Jack was just small. Very small. He was taking it all like a champ. I wasn't allowed to visit until the spinal block wore off and I could walk on my own. Rob continued to make the trek down the hall to see his shiny new kid while I tried to sleep it off. Rob eventually made an attempt to sleep on the joke of a bed that was provided for him in my room. We both managed to get some sleep. We were parents. How strange to wake up that morning as a married couple, a family of two, and to go to bed as a mom and a dad. A family of three. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?