hospital
CONOR GETS BITTEN BY OUR OWN PET DOG
I heard our 4-year old come down the stairs. Our little tornado. What I didn’t see was that he stopped to hug our 12-year old dog.
What I didn’t see was that the dog was on the couch, a big ‘no-no.’ I didn’t see Conor reach out to hug him. I didn’t see the bite occur.
I was only 10 feet away. Preparing dinner. Digging in the fridge. Opening a beer. It all happened in a blink of an eye.
The scream was deafening. The blood was everywhere. My son ran to me as I ran to him. I had failed as a dad.
My 4-year old cried to me, “I’m okay, daddy. I’m okay.” I hugged him and pretended that it was all okay. But it wasn’t.
My wife was right there, too. We both missed what was happening. She was grabbing towels to clean the mess. What the hell happened?
She called our neighbor, the nurse. The neighbor ran over. Looked. And said, “Take him to the doctor.” Crap.
25 stitches and 8 hours later, we were on our way home. The next day the dog was at the kennel. 10 days later, the dog was on the one farm where dogs can run to their hearts content with no rules. Forever.
Conor still says he wants his dog back. Other times he says he doesn’t want to be a pet owner anymore. I don’t know what I want.
Conor still hugs dogs. And occasionally asks for a new puppy. I still cringe when he hugs dogs. But I bite my lip. Kids are resilient. Parents, not so much.
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WHEN TRADITIONAL LABOR TURNS C-SECTION
Valerie spent a few minutes trying to wrap around the new plan that was now underway. I was concerned that both Val and our son’s health were now in jeopardy. The doctor assured me everything would be fine. The nurse explained that I was to put on the scrubs that an orderly had brought into the room. As soon as the surgery was underway, a nurse would escort me into the operating room. The nurse explained it would be in my best interest not to look at Valerie until they had positioned me behind the curtain where it was safe to look about. With that, they wheeled Valerie out of sight and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I took the moment while waiting for the nurse to come get me to call my dad to tell him what was happening. We had recently mended fences after years of separation and it was good to confide in him my nervousness about what was happening from a husband/father point of view. My dad listened compassionately and gave me words of encouragement. I won't lie, I spoke with tears in my eyes and sniffles and in true form dad told me to pull it together. I didn't really appreciate that comment to be honest. I had pulled it together for 36 hours of seeing my wife in pain. I needed a moment to share my real emotions and while he listened sympathetically, I think he thought I was not handling the situation with confidence and of course I was. But even the strongest people need to share their true feeling with someone. Still, I knew my dad was just trying to remind me that I had to be strong for Valerie and he didn't know these tears were my moment to get rid of them so I could put on the confident, positive face in just three more minutes. I didn’t scold him for his comment. I took it in the spirit it was given. We hung up as the nurse said that it was time to bring the baby into this world. I put on my surgical mask and hair net and didn't even think about how they wear these same nets at McDonald’s and The Picadilly Cafeteria.
When we entered the OR, it was really busy. It seems there were about 8 people standing around Valerie and I didn't dare look. I already know her inside and out but didn't want to know literally. I thought I saw some body organs sitting off to the side but I'm hoping I was wrong. I went to Valerie’s side and asked her how she was dinged she smiled through tears. I asked if there was anything i could do. She whispered, “Could you please say a Hail Mary for us.” So I started to say a very quiet "Hail Mary." Then I realized she was saying it with me so I said it a little louder. Then I realized I could barely hear her because of the suction of the machine sucking at her body fluids on the other side of the curtain. There were machines beeping, doctors barking out orders and swooshing sounds of body liquids. I started praying louder so she wouldn't hear the sounds of her inner body being opened, pulled and sucked. As Val laid on the table, her body was being jostled as they pulled the baby out of the birth canal and back up into the womb. You could hear the doctor directing the other doctor as if he were an air traffic controller guiding a plane in for a landing. I left the "Hail Mary’s for a few "Our Father's." It helped drown out the noise and it begin to give me confidence again. Valerie was strong and said her prayers right with me. Then the tugging stopped and the chatter got quiet. Suddenly a baby's cry filled the room like an opera singer at the MET. It was the most beautiful sound in the whole world. And instantly, our prayers had been answered. We prayed with more vigor now, thanking God for the gift he had just bestowed on us.
The doctors and nurses cheered and hollered congratulations to us. There was laughter and ooing and ahhing. A nurse hollered "8 lbs 14 oz.” Then a nurse came to our side of the curtain and told me to grab my camera so I could meet our new son. I grabbed the camera and walked over to the warming table where a kind African American nurse was finishing cleaning off my son, Conor. She asked me if I would like to cut the umbilical cord. After all we had been through, cutting an umbilical cord didn't seem all that queezy to me so I grabbed the scissors and cut the cord that separated my son from his mother. He was now a free man. I snapped more pictures but found it very hard to wrap my head around the fact that he was my son. It just wouldnt sink in. Regardless, I knew that he must be mine and so I kept talking to him as if he were.
Then Nurse Amy came over we took the baby over so Val could see him. Valerie had a big smile on her face and she looked longingly at our new son. Her arms had been strapped to the table so that she didn't accidentally move during the delicate surgery which now meant that she couldn't hold the baby. At least she could see him and talk to him. I took pictures and even a little bit of video to record the moment for all time. Only one time in your whole life will you have a first child and look into his eyes for the first time and this was that moment. And it was indeed momentous. It was surreal. Our lives as we knew it would never be the same again after this moment. A lot to take in and it flooded forth like the waters over the New Orleans levies during hurricane Katrina. I continued to take pictures as if I could slow down time in bite sizes so I take it all in. The responsibilities continued to pour in faster than i could sort them out. Little did I know that two weeks later I would still be trying to sort it out and wrap my head around the awesome responsibility I now faced.
Finally, a nurse came over and explained that because Valerie had gotten a slight fever during labor that the baby needed to be checked out further in the nursery and would have to be treated with antibiotics to ward off any infections that might ensue. I asked the nurse if I could come with her. She explained it was against hospital policy but that she would reunite us soon. I hated hearing that and I think it's wrong that a dad can't accompany his newborn when he undergoes a few tests in the nursery. But now was not the time to make a scene and I was just so happy that he was alive that I let him go with the nice nurse.
As they begin to sew Valerie back up, I was invited to go back to the delivery room we had been holed up in for the last two days and the nurses explained that Valerie would be along shortly. I got back to the room feeling relieved after all that had happened after 36 hours of labor. I remember leaving my dad only minutes ago concerned for the safety and health of Valerie and our son so I decided to call him first to tell him everything was okay and that everyone was safe and healthy. He was not only relieved but also touched that he was the first one to hear the good news. I think for a new dad to call his dad to tell him his new son is alive and well is a nice passing of the torch. We said goodbye and two proud fathers were left with our own thoughts. Soon, Valerie returned to the room and we looked at each other proudly and compassionately. We now knew each other more closely and intimately than ever before. Valerie had been to the brink of what is humanly possible and I stood with her every step of the way, never leaving her side for so much as a bathroom break or a moment to rest my aching back. It all seemed so trivial compared to her efforts.
Now I could sit back as she lay back. The nurses brought our son back into the room and they placed her on Valerie's chest. Our family was back together. And I never let either of them out my sight until we left the hospital five days later.
And that is how our family of three began its journey together on October 9, 2011.