Your First Moments
Dearest Oliver,
First and foremost, welcome to the world Oliver. I can’t believe you’re here and yet I can’t believe you haven’t always been here. My life has most certainly unalterably changed course and I simply love the new views.
I wanted to share my perceptions of the first few moments of your life. After nine plus months of cooking inside your mother, you elected to emerge with a respectful roar. You were born at 8:44 and 47 seconds on November 7, 2005, one week earlier than your due date. I know the exact time because your Grandpa Hand had provided me with his watch and was eagerly awaiting the timing of your birth in the hospital waiting room (so that he could immediately begin assessing the mysteries of your birth chart). At your birth, I was sitting beside your mom’s head and I watched as her eyes filled with joyful tears at hearing your voice for the first time. Within a few minutes, I was at your side as the nurses cleared your breathing passages and cleaned your beautiful skin. I began speaking to you, hoping to soothe you and was awestruck when you quieted at the sound of my voice. Next, we weighed you and you came in at a hefty 8 lbs. 8 ounces. You were jackknifed at birth, which is why your mother delivered you via cesarean section instead of naturally. You were beautiful from the get-go and I have pictures to prove it. Within a few minutes you were resting contentedly on your mother’s chest and she was cooing at you and me while the doctors continued working on her behind the sheet. It was a fine beginning.
About 15 minutes passed and the doctors needed to finish with your mother. It was also time for you to head to the maternity ward for further inspection. I left the operating room and your mother to follow you out with a nurse as we wheeled you through the hospital. With some effort, I persuaded the nurse to pause so that I could announce your arrival to those loved ones awaiting your nascency in the waiting room. Along with your Grandpa Hand, your Great Auntie Sheila, your Uncle Cory and Aunt Michele were all eagerly anticipating the first moments of your life. They all rushed out to meet you and joined the procession toward the maternity ward. Once in the maternity ward, we entered the nursing center where only parents, babies and nurses were allowed, but we managed to get a front row seat so that everyone could watch as they measured you and tested your reflexes. You were 20.5 inches long and scored a 9.9 of 10 on your APGAR test. Already near perfect.
Finally, the time came to reunite with your mother. I had spent a frantic hour or so racing back and forth across the hospital announcing your every twitch and turn to your mother who lay under a heated pup tent in recovery. She felt like King Tantalus, unable to partake of your presence as she lay trapped in recovery awaiting feeling in her legs again. At long last she managed to force her legs into action and was okayed to relocate to the maternity ward. We three were then rejoined, accompanied by your Grandpa Hand and Auntie Sheila.
Uncle Cory launched your blog that day with an announcement to all those who couldn’t be present for your arrival. He and Aunt Michele returned that night to bask in the fading glow of your first day. As night fell, you were quiet, content and glowing. We were all tired and complete.
Love,
Dad
First and foremost, welcome to the world Oliver. I can’t believe you’re here and yet I can’t believe you haven’t always been here. My life has most certainly unalterably changed course and I simply love the new views.
I wanted to share my perceptions of the first few moments of your life. After nine plus months of cooking inside your mother, you elected to emerge with a respectful roar. You were born at 8:44 and 47 seconds on November 7, 2005, one week earlier than your due date. I know the exact time because your Grandpa Hand had provided me with his watch and was eagerly awaiting the timing of your birth in the hospital waiting room (so that he could immediately begin assessing the mysteries of your birth chart). At your birth, I was sitting beside your mom’s head and I watched as her eyes filled with joyful tears at hearing your voice for the first time. Within a few minutes, I was at your side as the nurses cleared your breathing passages and cleaned your beautiful skin. I began speaking to you, hoping to soothe you and was awestruck when you quieted at the sound of my voice. Next, we weighed you and you came in at a hefty 8 lbs. 8 ounces. You were jackknifed at birth, which is why your mother delivered you via cesarean section instead of naturally. You were beautiful from the get-go and I have pictures to prove it. Within a few minutes you were resting contentedly on your mother’s chest and she was cooing at you and me while the doctors continued working on her behind the sheet. It was a fine beginning.
About 15 minutes passed and the doctors needed to finish with your mother. It was also time for you to head to the maternity ward for further inspection. I left the operating room and your mother to follow you out with a nurse as we wheeled you through the hospital. With some effort, I persuaded the nurse to pause so that I could announce your arrival to those loved ones awaiting your nascency in the waiting room. Along with your Grandpa Hand, your Great Auntie Sheila, your Uncle Cory and Aunt Michele were all eagerly anticipating the first moments of your life. They all rushed out to meet you and joined the procession toward the maternity ward. Once in the maternity ward, we entered the nursing center where only parents, babies and nurses were allowed, but we managed to get a front row seat so that everyone could watch as they measured you and tested your reflexes. You were 20.5 inches long and scored a 9.9 of 10 on your APGAR test. Already near perfect.
Finally, the time came to reunite with your mother. I had spent a frantic hour or so racing back and forth across the hospital announcing your every twitch and turn to your mother who lay under a heated pup tent in recovery. She felt like King Tantalus, unable to partake of your presence as she lay trapped in recovery awaiting feeling in her legs again. At long last she managed to force her legs into action and was okayed to relocate to the maternity ward. We three were then rejoined, accompanied by your Grandpa Hand and Auntie Sheila.
Uncle Cory launched your blog that day with an announcement to all those who couldn’t be present for your arrival. He and Aunt Michele returned that night to bask in the fading glow of your first day. As night fell, you were quiet, content and glowing. We were all tired and complete.
Love,
Dad
posted by chadu at
9:22 PM
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