Announcing... {yet-to-be-named-baby}

Ok Ok. After today, I guess I have to eat some of the words I said yesterday... Hospitals do have their merits (let's see if I can remember this when the bills start coming in). First things first...


Here is the newest addition to the Yeates family, at only 12 minutes old. We haven't decided on a name yet (we can't come to an agreement on something we both like, and if this continues, we'll probably go the Switzerland route and name him James Vernon), but we are happy to announce that he is a healthy little boy. He is 6 pounds 10 ounces and 17 1/2 inches long. He has blue eyes from his daddy, and his hair is darker than his brother's, which probably comes from his mommy. He's more of a mix of mommy and daddy than either of his brothers were, which is nice. Here are more pictures...

Good lungs...

Male-patterned baldness (hopefully it doesn't stay this way)...

Tiny and short.

Despite hospital policy, and thanks to the "video" setting on my phone looking identical to the "camera" setting, I nabbed these as well...

****WARNING****
THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH(S) CONTAIN(S) DESCRIPTIONS OF MEDICAL STUFF WHICH SOME PEOPLE MAY FIND GROSS. YOU BUNCH OF WUSSIES. (Just kidding. But seriously, I am going to lay out things as they transpired, including the mentioning of things like blood. If you are squeamish, grab a bucket before you read.)

He came to us via an emergency c-section, which was needed due to a lot of blood loss because of a placental abruption. Everything was going well. Petocin was doing it's job, Chiara was having good, consistent contractions, and was making decent progress. The doctor came in around noon and broke her water, and as expected the contractions intensified. After five or six of these, Chiara suddenly said she felt like she was wetting herself and she asked to check to see what was going on. (Yippee!!! I get to peek under the sheets to look for pee!!! HOLY CRAP!!! THAT'S RED PEE! WAIT! THAT'S NOT PEE AT ALL! THAT'S BLOOD! AND A LOT OF IT! THE CULLEN FAMILY COULD FEAST FOR WEEKS OFF THAT! GROSS! WHAT THE HECK AM I THINKING?! GROSS! THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO AGAIN? OH YEAH... UM... GO GET A NURSE... WAIT! LEAVE THE SHEETS WITH CHIARA AND THEN GO GET A NURSE!) The nurse comes in all relaxed and easy-going, saying that a little blood is normal and that it's nothing to worry about... and then she peeked under the sheet. I swear I saw at least for different a siren's and alarm bells materialize over her head after she peeked at the exhibit of red under the sheets! She then coolly and contradictorily said that everything was fine. (NOTE: Whenever the first words out of somebodies mouth are "Everything is fine," chances are that everything is NOT fine.) She then smiled and said "That's a little more blood that we like to see."

A LITTLE MORE!? THERE'S ENOUGH THERE TO GO SWIMMING!!!

She ran to go grab the Doctor while another nurse came in to change Chiara's pad. (NOTE: When short-handed, hospital policy does seem to allow for husbands to fill in as orderlies and janitors, and since they are in relation to the patient, giving them gloves and stuff is costly, and therefore unnecessary. GREAT!!!)

We changed Chiara's pad, and just as we had it in place another contraction hit. It was kind of like watching Niagra Falls through red-tinted sunglasses while laying on your side.

We need a new pad.

The Doctor came in and checked things out. She calmly said, "Everything is ok. (Oh Great!!! Now She's doing it too!!!) The baby's heart rate is good, mommy is doing fine, but we may want to consider doing a cesarean at this point."

...

YA THINK!?

After another pad change, the aforementioned peanut gallery came into the room to prep Chiara for the procedure. Amongst the chaos, a person (I don't know who it was because they were all green, and wearing masks and stuff) tossed a bundle of scrubs at me and told me to put them on. Somebody else, I presume it was the QB -err, I mean the Doctor filled me in on the game plan. They were going to get Chiara into the delivery room, give her an epidural, and then bring me in to be there for the main event. Sounds good.

Crashing down the hallway with the gurney and just prior to entering the arena, the Doctor (By this time I figured it out it was her because she's wearing a different facemask than everybody else. Cool. Upgrades.) informs me that the plan has changed and that I am to sit down outside the doors to the "game room" and wait for reports of what's going on, and that as soon as the baby's out, I can go with the baby and the presidential escort to the nursery.

I refuse to sit.

Seconds turn to minutes, turn to hours, turn to centuries...

Report one: The baby's fine. We'll keep you posted... Have a seat.

Eons later (I WILL not sit).

Report two: The baby's fine. We'll keep you posted... Have a seat.

I WILL NOT SIT!!! I sincerely appreciate the update on the baby, but last time I checked, there was someone else in there that I was somewhat concerned about as well...

Still standing in the exact same spot I was when the universe was young...

Report three: Do you hear that? That's your son! He'll be out in a minute.

(As she turns to run back in) WHAT ABOUT MY WIFE!?

Oh yeah... She's fine too. She's asleep. They didn't have time for an epidural, so they used general anesthesia. Everything's fine. They're both doing okay.

This time I believe her.

Moments later out comes the cutest little thing... She's pushing a cart with a bundle of blankets in it. (LOL!!! That was TOTALLY inappropriate!!!) Wait a sec... That's my son in there! Off we go to the nursery. Suddenly everything is the world has disappeared. Time has stopped. As we move down the hallway past the waiting room full people and kids I see nobody. Past the screaming and the laughter and the intercom and the beeping I hear nothing. My entire world has disappeared, or rather, my entire world has just been filled with the tiniest, most beautiful little boy. I can't really explain what I felt in that moment. A singular love so powerful that nothing could compare to it. Everything that I feared, every worry that I had, all the stress and the tension that had built up in me since heaven knew how long, were all gone. Wiped away in an instant, by a little boy smaller than my forearm. Now that's magic. What's more, this is not the first time in my life that I've felt this way before. I'm suddenly flooded with memories of my past. My awakening, my mission, my wedding, and the births of my other sons, Kenny and Nathan, swirl through my mind in a perfect symphony of happiness and joy. Now that's a miracle!

Wait a sec! Where's my wife and how is she doing!?

I run down the hall to her room and she's not there. I guess she's still being worked on. Moments later the doctor comes in. She explains to me that everything went well, that she examined the placenta and that it was healthy, that the cord was attached to it perfectly, and that it had a tiny little area (4 - 6 cm long) where it appears to have started to detach from the uterus.

Thank God for Doctors! Especially this one! She kept everything in my world in it's place, and I will be forever grateful for her for being so good at doing what she does.

Chiara comes in, groggy and moaning, and I inform her everything is ok. "Ahhh-daaa-maa-baaaa-daaa..." She's out cold. One of the nurse's tells me I need to leave, and before I can get mad at being separated from my wife YET AGAIN she suggests I go back to the nursery. OH YEAH!!! I have a son!!!

Back at the nursery, I watch through the windows as nurse checks my baby boy out and gives him is first bath. Yes it's a little bittersweet to watch and not do, but at this point I'm too emotionally drained, and too caught up in the symphony of joy going through my head at seeing my little boy again, to really notice...

Chiara's recovering nicely, and the baby is doing really well. He's a pro at nursing. (Something that my other two boys flunked.) I am grateful to be where I am right now. Being a dad is awesome! Now if I could only nail down the whole provide-for-my-family-thing I'd be set! Oh well... Maybe in another decade...

Now if we can only settle on what to call this kid...