The actual birth was quick. It seriously lasted about 14 minutes, from what I remember. I honestly do not have any kind of entertaining tale about this part. It was what it was. Jack and the nurses were super calm, which is likely the only reason I don’t have anything to write about. No screaming, no blood and guts everywhere. A few pushes and next thing ya know, there was an extra person in the room. Crazy, crazy, crazy!
One thing you never hear about is cutting the umbilical chord. I initially didn’t want to do this. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with anything that might haunt my dreams forever. I stood way up near Jack’s head and trust me, my eyes never wandered past her upper body. Some people told me ‘oh, you have to witness your baby being born!’ Umm, no you don’t! I’d like to sleep soundly for the next few weeks/rest of my life, thank you very much!
So the nurses caught me off guard. Once the baby was lying on Jack’s chest, I was half focused on him and half focused on not looking at what the nurses were doing at the other end. One slip, one second of losing focus and you will see something that only trained professionals are paid enormous amounts of money to have to witness. Out of nowhere, there were a pair of scissors being forced upon me with a very small portion of what looked like a giant piece of overcooked penne in the background. I hesitantly took the scissors from the nurse’s hands and went in for the kill. I thought one effortless pinch of the blades would do the trick. Not even close! I’m almost positive these particular scissors had been rusting outside in the pouring rain for at least 3 weeks and that the umbilical chord was made of double-sided Kevlar. I had to use 2 hands (true story).
We spent the next 52 hours in the hospital with the next generation Psoinos. The opening to our room mine as well been a revolving door with never-ending visits from nurses, doctors, consultants, family, friends and room service. Ah, room service. Next to the phone was a full menu with everything from omelets to turkey dinners to pizza. Pick up the phone, tell them your order and 25 minutes later, you’re eating! It was better than having the Batphone in your room! Adam West wasn’t bringing me a brownie sundae at midnight, ya know?
One thing that I did not prepare very well was my hospital bag. Jack’s bag barely fit in the trunk and mine was a plastic Market Basket bag, go figure. I’m not sure why, but I only brought 1 pair of boxers and 1 t-shirt, knowing I would be in the hospital for a minimum of 3 days. I guess my mind was elsewhere since I packed my bag while Jacky was waiting in the car (her bag had been in the car for weeks). Luckily my mom brought me a shirt when she came to the hospital to meet her new grandson. Unfortunately, the shirt said ‘NEW DAD 2011’ on the front. Really?! Only my mom would buy this shirt NOT as a joke.
I would only wear the shirt to bed and would always turn it inside out when I left the room. Jack’s doctor visited us early one morning and I didn’t have time to change. I didn’t think she would even notice……..she did. She died laughing and said she had never seen a new dad with a shirt like that. This person delivers babies for a living! She visits new parents every single day and has been for 20+ years and has never seen a shirt that says ‘NEW DAD.’ Whatever. I wore it home the day we left the hospital. How cliché? New dad, mom and baby leaving the hospital on Father’s Day and the dad is wearing a ‘NEW DAD’ t-shirt. I think I even tucked it into my shorts so I could officially be a ‘dad.’ Shirt tucked into shorts, check. Toyota Camry, check. Comb-over, check. Now I just need some tighty whities and I’m ready to raise this kid.
You did get a brownie sundae. It just wasn’t delivered at midnight and I’m not adam west.