The first 72 hours
When my first daughter was born, I was convinced that I was going to write about it. I set up a twitter handle, thought about putting together a blog, had this whole idea. And then…well being a first time parent is a lot of work. And a lot of exhaustion. So, the writing didn’t happen, for the most part. Before I was mainlining caffeine, I did manage to write a couple things down. And sharing them here, rather than letting them languish as drafts in my email folder, seems like a great way to get into me occasional parenthood series that this time I am most definitely* going to write about.
72 Hours. It seems like such a short time in the grand scheme of things. But in the last 72 hours, life has changed in such an incredible and profound way. I assume that if someone has a child, this isn’t news, but they would all nod along in agreement. it’s a mixture of excitement, nervousness, joy, exhaustion, and the purest form of love imaginable.
At this time on Thursday, Ashley and I were going about our day. We had finished off our usual 5 miles in the morning, evening moving at a little faster clip. She had headed off to a full day at work, and I was where I usually am, in front of my computer. Remington was on the landing wondering for the fourth day in a row why he had to stay home with Dad and couldn’t go to the Dog Den. We’d promised him a trip on Friday, but apparently someone had other plans.
By 11 p.m. that night, we were in the hospital. Our baby, who’s gender we still didn’t know, had decided that she was ready to make an appearance. 39 weeks to the day we’d been waiting. We were equal parts excited and nervous, but we were prepared. We’d talked about this, and we were ready to go.
For the next 15 hours I tried my best to stay calm and do what any husband is supposed to do. I was supportive when she needed me to be supportive, but I wasn’t too overbearing. I tracked the monitor to let her know when the contraction was hitting and when it was starting to let itself down. I even tried to get a little work done and catch a couple hours of Zzzs.
And then it happened…
In what can only be described as a blink of an eye, she was here. It was actually really fast for Ashley too…according to the nurse, less than 10 minutes of pushing (PSA from Ashley here for running and working out while pregnant is highly recommended). But in those ten minutes, there is a lot that goes through your head. How can I help? What is my job? How can I be supportive? No, I really don’t want to watch. Will it be a boy or a girl? Is she or he going to be healthy? Will there be hair? I’m sure there is a lot more, but it was only ten minutes, and my sleep deprived brain can’t remember everything that happened.
When she was placed on Ashley’s chest, my heart welled up in a way I couldn’t imagine. I’d heard about it from other dad’s, and read about it in the books. But until that moment, I don’t think anyone can do it justice. To see for the first time your daughter, this tiny human being that you created, that your incredible wife brought into this world, is indescribable. Just the absolute joy and elation, the feeling just coursing through your body; it’s something that I’ve never felt before.
From that point on, it’s been a blur. A series of tests and checks, watching her pass each one and inside doing a combination fist pump (that’s my girl!) and relief (thank goodness she doesn’t have that thing they were testing for). Nurses and doctors and photographers coming and going every hour on the hour. A few minutes of fitful sleep between first baths and first feeds and first diaper changes. Then finally they said we could go. After only 24 hours they were letting us go home.
The drive home wasn’t nearly as nerve wracking as I’d anticipated. Sure, I was a little less aggressive on the road, but it was one of those things that just felt right. Here I was, driving my family home for the first time. I couldn’t stop smiling the whole way until we got to the driveway, into the garage and then the house. After a crazy 72 hours, we were home; all three of us. Right where we belong.
*Probably only maybe definitely, but Imma keep tryin’
