I have a love for numbers, which is ironic since I did so poorly in math in high school. But that was Algebra and Geometry, which is really more like shapes and letters and not numbers at all but I digress. Numbers are important to me. As a child my favorite number was 22 because that’s was the number Rick Tocchet wore until he went to the Penguins and began wearing 92, which screwed up my love for the number 22. Then there is the number 2008, which is the year that I hit the 11,000 day mark of my life, which was bookended by the number 10, which was the amount days it took to achieve my three most memorable moments in life, Phillies winning the World Series, America voting for our first non-white male president and then there was that whole wedding thing with my wife. Finally there is 1-19-12, which is not really a number but more a date, which was the moment our daughter, Rylee Hope Rosenbaum took her first breath of life, which brings us to 30 days after that milestone, which equals 720 hours…That brings us to today.
This blog entry is not my need to brag or pontificate upon the joys and rigors of parenthood. I think most people understand the magnitude of love and responsibility that goes along with it. We all try to prepare as best as we can but do any of us really fully comprehend this new societal role until that moment we are handed a bag of diapers and a bucket of receiving blankets? For Pamela and I the pregnancy and the birth was a very deep and intimate experience, one of which I will share with my readership because I think some people will measure it with their personal experiences and or help them grasp the gravity of parenthood.
In May, 2011 we made it official to friends and family that we were having a baby. It was completely planned but in truth it was a calculated gamble in life. We live in a very small 2-bedroom condo, which at the time was on the market for nearly a year, we also had career issue as I was working for a company where I felt extremely unwanted and knew that I’d be changing jobs in the midst of this pregnancy.
Pamela really struggled physically in the first few months. In a way it was quite normal for a pregnancy but in our world it was very real, fresh and we were really trying to make it past every day. There was the frequent heartburn and nausea that everyone said would dissipate but it’s hard to justify the journey of birth when your wife has her head in the toilet for three months straight.
Like everything else that comes our way in life, we got through it with love and patience (and for me Rum). The second trimester approached and as every current mother and educated doctor promised, it was 3 months of painless pregnancy. Except for my wife getting ear full’s of me wallowing about my job. Our time was occupied by with filling in those missing lines. You know what lines I am talking about. It’s the same three lines that every human being must ask a woman who is showing a bump…
1. When are you due?
2. Do you know what you are having?
3. Have you picked out a name?
Pamela and I decided very early on that we would share everything. That’s just how we roll. It actually minimizes small talk with strangers. Soon as we see their lips forming to ask the three questions every stranger needs to know about another complete stranger, we fire back with “late January, girl, Rylee Hope.” It also makes it easier in planning a nursery, getting personalized items and picking out cloths. It gave me a head start on saving for a weddingJ
Then there was the last third of the pregnancy. For Pamela it was the hardest. For those that know my wife, understand that she treats her body like a temple. She is very aware of her diet; she has never done drugs and has never smoked a cigarette in her life. The last time she was a patient in a hospital was the day she was born. She is very careful in almost everything she does in life but she is specifically careful in how she takes care of her body. She put on about 50% of her normal body weight and it came to the point where she was in a considerable amount of pain in her back and feet…more then what is normally expected. Her weight gain was so worrisome that doctors felt that the baby would be too large to be delivered vaginally. They recommended we get one last ultrasound to measure the babies anticipated weight.
At 37.5 weeks we got that ultrasound and what we saw was completely unexpected. The good news was that the baby was just over 8 pounds and in most scenarios that would be acceptable for a vaginal delivery. What we didn’t expect was that the baby was breech. She was positioned with her head up. This is a recipe for a C-Section.
My wife was not pleased with this news because this is not how she envisioned this birth going. I was also a tad disappointed at first but the more we heard about stories of the C-Section, the more we liked the idea. For starters, it allowed us to essentially pick our baby’s birthday. This date allowed Pamela to work 2 more days at work and then she went on bed rest 1 week before the birth. It also meant 2 extra days in the hospital, which allowed for more time to get lactation consultation and post operative care for Pamela. Lastly it was cost-saving. Women who have C-Sections get an extra two weeks pay from their disability claims (in most jobs).
With that being said, no women likes to be cut open while they are awake to deliver a baby. I stayed very strong for my wife but for all her worrying, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t have been just as nervous. Nowadays, C-Sections happen in over 1/3 of all pregnancies. It’s extremely safe and in most cases less painful then vaginal deliveries but it’s still a very scary thing to endure.
The details of the birth day were very clear in my mind. In one sense I was super-excited to be a father and in the other sense, I was super-nervous about my wife. I wanted everything to go perfectly. The anticipation of the moment could really be trying on the mind but I felt like I was incredibly calm for no other reason other than to transmit that calm tone to my wife, who was laid out on the OR with her hands spread out on a horizontal wooden board. In an odd sense it made me giggle because she looked like Jesus on a crucifix ready to have a baby. At around 9:12am (numbers are important), the lead nurse peaked over the curtain that separated by Jesus wife from her bloody insides and she said “Baby Time.” If I learned one thing in the birthing class it was that “Baby Time” meant “get your cameras ready to see your baby enter the world.”
The next few minutes seemed like hours. I heard some veil compliments like”She is so pretty”, “What a cute tush” and “She has a full head of hair.” At each compliment I stood to catch a some video of the birth of our child. At each point that I tried to stand, the nurse said “No, not yet…not yet” It was clear that something seemed very troubling. I now know that my daughter was out of the womb but I had not yet heard a single cry. I would later learn that she had lots of fluid in her lungs and I not being able to video the birth was a precautionary measure. It took the doctors around 60-90 seconds to clean the baby off and get her to a warmer. It was at that point that I was escorted to that warmer to see the baby for the first time.
Like the doctors, I was taken back by how much hair the baby had and how similar she looked to my wife. My exact thought going through my head was that I can’t believe my sperm and Pamela’s egg made this awesome looking child. It is one of those wonderful medical miracles that I will never appreciate enough. I had the chance to cut the umbilical cord and I videoed the weigh-in (BTW they way in grams). When they said 3600 grams I immediately thought, wow that’s a lot of weed.
The next thing I know is that I’m ushered back to my chair behind the curtain next to my Jesus wife. She looks dazed and confused and I had to assure her that the baby was both beautiful and healthy. Five minutes later they bought the baby over to us where Pamela got to her first glimpse of what was kicking around her for many months.
The hour’s that followed were slightly anti climatic, except for our families who were waiting patiently in the waiting room to meet Rylee for the first time. Pamela was taken to recovery where I sat by her side feeding her ice chips and marveling at the beauty of our baby girl. Pamela was then moved to our home for the next five days in post-partum. The next five days were a bit of a blur. There was a heavy dose of milking lessons, lots of strange hospital workers poking at my wife’s genitals, lots of family/friends visiting, there was a nice daddy rollout bed and plenty of good hospital food. It was more or less a five days of hands-on-training baby sessions. By the end, we had a good system…so we thought.
On Monday, January 23rd, we took the baby home for the first time and this is was when I first realized that this parenthood thing was super intense. The hospital training wheels were off and it was just me, my baby and my highly hormonal wife. The first few days felt like a tornado came to town. As advertised there was minimal sleep and maximum crying. On top of all of that, I was 2 weeks into a new job (one that I love thank you very much). So it was 3-4 hours of sleep followed by 12-13 hours of learning a new job. Thank you to the good members of Bucks Mont NARI for being so understanding.
Ultimately, it’s been a whirlwind for us. Some things that I learned are that when you become a dad, your vocabulary dramatically changes. All words end with the “eee” sound…
Onsie – an outfit for newborns
Paci- a sucky tool you stick in your newborns mouth to keep them quiet
Poopy – First it looks like motor oil then it turns to mustard seeds
I learned how precious a life can be and how much a person can love another person. This little ray of sunshine has really turned my life upside down. It’s a very strange feeling being a father but one in which I’m slowly adjusting too. I also learned a lot about my wife. Seeing her carry this child for nine months made me realize that she is a very strong woman. Now that I see her interact with Rylee, I am not afraid to say that she may be one of the most incredible mothers ever. I don’t know if I would be able to fully commit to a child chomping at my mammaries every 3 hours for even a week, let alone a month…and hopefully longer.
As hours become months and months become years, I realize every moment is precious. This baby, Rylee Hope has a name with purpose. The word “Hope” is one of the best words in the English dictionary. It represents all the possibilities the world presents for her. Such as the day she begins kindergarten on approximately day 1800. Then the day she has her Bat Mitzvah, approximately day 4000, the day she drives on approximately day 5300….and of course the day she begins to date, approximately the 4th of never.
Numbers mean something to me. It represents growth, progression and achievement. For me the most important number is one, as in one heart, one soul and one unwavering love for my wife Pamela and our beautiful baby, Rylee Hope. Happy first month Baby Rylee.
