Motherhood Mondays: Alex's side of the birth story

Now that it's been more than a year since Toby's birth, and our second wedding anniversary is around the corner, I thought I'd finally ask Alex to share his side of our birth story. I'm always really curious about what it's like for dads, whether they're coaching breathing, getting their hands tightly squeezed or pacing the waiting room. So, below, Alex shares his thoughts... :)

Going into labor

It was a Monday night, more than a week before Toby's due date.

The day had been so ordinary: We had gone to the accountant, Joanna had done a Trader Joe’s shop, we went to work. We watched a TV show in the evening, and then I made a cup of hot cocoa. It seemed too regular of a day for us have a baby!

So, when Joanna started contracting, I felt, this is odd, surely she's just having cramps, surely…

Timing the contractions

Joanna began having contractions in the living room, and, when they got stronger, we moved into the bedroom. I timed the contractions using my old dive watch. The clunky watch felt imprecise compared to a digital watch; I remember thinking, I hope I'm getting this right.

The birthing books say that you're in labor once the contractions are consistently 3 to 5 minutes apart. I could tell that Joanna was being tough and stoic; she would tell me the contraction had started after she already looked like she was in pain; and then she would say, “It’s over,” and I would think, you don’t look like it’s over! She would still be wincing. I started thinking the contractions were actually much longer and closer together than she realized.

Deciding whether to go to the hospital

After a couple hours, her contractions were intense. I thought, OK, it’s 1am, we have to fish or cut bait. Joanna was being courageous and downplaying her pain, and the doctor answering the phone was being wishy-washy—so I felt like it was up to me to make a call…but I didn’t really know, because what my instinct was telling me (this is it!) was different from what Joanna and the doctor were telling me (this probably isn’t).

I had expected it to be like, oh, it's time, like a fireman going down a pole. Instead we basically had to decide whether to go into the hospital, which was weird. We decided this was probably it. We called the doctor and he said, ok, come in.

The big events in life never feel like you expect them to. When the moment is majestic, you expect that the heavens will open up, and the trumpets will start playing, but really your wife is lying on the bed with a roll of toilet paper and you're trying to figure out if you should keep making that cup of hot chocolate that you were making. No matter how magical the situation, you're still thrust back into these mundane life details: how to catch a cab in NYC in the middle of the night, I’ll carry the bag, should we take some snacks. It's funny how you normalize it.

The cab ride

Once we got into the cab, the adventure kicked in. It was Joanna and me together, it was a dark quiet night, and the emotions started flowing. And I started thinking, holy shit!

It was the middle of the night—Tuesday at 2:30am—the deadest possible time to be driving through Manhattan. Like a zombie movie when everyone has disappeared.

We were also both trying to take pictures, which was a joke because it was dark in the cab, and Joanna really wasn't in the mood to have her picture taken! I was crazy excited.

Feeling protective of Joanna

Once we arrived at the hospital, there was this long beaurocratic hospital check-in—Joanna was in pain and anxious, and, honestly, the triage doctor was being a jerk. I remember jumping up, thinking, I have to make sure she gets seen fast, but I was beating my head against a wall dealing with hospital paperwork.

You kind of want to grab the doctors by the shoulders and think, don’t you understand, my wife is in pain? Look at her—she was sitting on a plastic chair in the waiting room gripping the arm of the chair with her eyes closed, really in pain.

It was a big relief when they told us the labor was real. The nurse said, “You’re going to deliver your baby today.” What a thrill! I wanted to make sure Joanna got all the support and food and drink that she needed.

Trying to be useful

Once we got to our delivery room, my first impression was that it was really comforting and mellow: big with cream and dark green walls. I knew Joanna would feel more comfortable here. A giant Lay-Z-Boy recliner was in the corner, and I was like, that’s got my name on it.

At that point, there wasn't much I could do, but I really wanted to do something. It’s like that old joke, where the midwives would tell the husband, “Quick, go boil some water!” just so he’d feel useful and stay out of the way. Joanna was obviously in great medical hands. I was right there for her, but she was concentrating on her contractions in the hospital bed. She was really cool, calm and tough.

The weeks leading up to the due date, you have the sense of preparing to go to war; you have to prepare your kit, your tools, get everything in order. I had packed Joanna's nightgown, two cameras, nuts in case I got hungry. I even had music and DVDs, like we needed any of that.

Around 7am, Joanna decided to opt for an epidural. Right afterward, Joanna was totally painfree. We talked for a while and then lay together; I even fell asleep for a while. We both felt calm. I thought, ahhhh, it'll be easy going from here.

Back labor

We were surprised when, in relatively short order, Joanna started feeling lots of back pain. I kept going out and saying to the nurses, I know she's not supposed to be feeling anything, but she really is. I had that conversation with them like three times. They were giving me that we’re-really-nice-but-we’re-getting-annoyed-at-you kind of vibe!

Finally the doctor came in and realized that it was back labor. There was nothing they could do. I fed Joanna ice chips and put a cold washcloth on her forehead during each contraction. She would say, “Now, now!” and I was fast as lightning with that washcloth.

Pushing

A couple hours later—although it felt like five minutes—Joanna said she felt the urge to push. We thought that maybe we should call for the doctor again. So a new doctor came in to check everything out; she was super competent and amazing. She reminded me of an NCAA women’s basketball coach.

Then, all of a sudden, she announced it was time—and it was ON!

The doctor put on this crazy moon suit. It really did look like a deep sea diver’s outfit, bizarre. Everything happened so quickly. I was holding up one of Joanna’s legs, and a nurse was holding the other. Joanna was pushing hard every minute or so, and it was amazing.

Then I was seeing the crown of Toby’s head. The doctor and I were like, Go! Go! Push, Joanna! And it felt like such a rah, rah, sports event all of a sudden. Usually a doctor’s bedside manner is really calm and soothing, but she kept booming, “You do it, Joanna! You’re a strong girl!” She was really yelling in this coach-like way.

The most surreal moment I've ever had was when I saw the crown of Toby's head. That’s when it REALLY became real. All the way up until that it seemed a little theoretical that we were going to have a child. But then you’re like, whoa, this is for real. And then you’re really having a sense of anticipation, you’re like, in two seconds, I’m going to meet this child that I’m going to know the rest of my life. Two seconds!

So, Joanna was pushing, and I saw the top of his head, and I’m like, oh, crazy, he has more hair than I expected and dark hair… At first it was taking forever…it was a magical moment…I was about to see the face of this person…Joanna was like, I can’t do it…and the doctor kept saying, push, Joanna, push…

It was more suspenseful than anything I’ve ever done. I was dying to see his face.

Joanna said again, I can’t do it…and the doctor was like, Do it, Joanna, push, push!!! And her rah rah spirit was crucial to the moment…And finally, Joanna pushed as hard as she could and Toby slipped right out!

Honestly, watching the birth looked like a Georgia O'Keeffe flower; now I understand those paintings. It's like a flower opening up. It was amazing. I was so glad I got to be part of it. You really feel the awesome power of life and a women's strength, your wife's strength; it’s thrilling.

Also, to be honest, it was kind of like Alien.

After the birth

The nurses are rushing around; they’re holding up the wet purple baby and saying, “Dad, cut the cord!” At the moment, I was like, oh, no, I can't do that, but they basically insisted. So I cut through—it was basically like cutting calamari!

The second I saw Toby's face, I was struck by how sweet he looked. I was under the impression that babies would come out really misshapen and funny looking, but I was bowled over by how beautiful he was. My first thought was that he looked like Lucy (Joanna’s sister), and my second thought was, hey, he has my jaw!

The nurses handed him to Joanna first, of course, and she was glowing. I had the camera set on rapid fire, and doctor made a joke that it sounded like an AK-47. I probably took 300 pictures in the span of fifteen minutes.

Then nurses cleaned him, and then I held him. He was tiny and purple. It was literally the third time I’d held a baby in my whole life, and to think that it was my baby was thrilling. It was unbelievable—after all those years, wondering if I'd ever have a child, thinking it wouldn’t happen, thinking it probably wasn’t meant to be…and then here I was holding Toby. It was a profound moment, beyond description.

Then I handed Toby back to Joanna. She looked so beautiful, with this blissful, serene expression on her face. Relief, exhaustion and accomplishment all together. It must be what it's like to be on top of Everest.

She looked beautiful. I was in awe of her.

Thank you so much, Alex. (I found this so touching and eye-opening:) xoxo And I’d love to share more dads’ birth stories over the next few months.

Mamas, were your husbands or partners in the room with you? Did they coach you along? What has your husband told you about his side of the birth? Anything surprising? Would you prefer he stay by your head or by your feet? :)

P.S. More Motherhood Monday posts...Source URL: https://gbejadacosta.blogspot.com/search/label/fatherhood
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Motherhood Mondays: 8 confessions of a new dad

For today's second Motherhood Monday post, I'd love to talk about new fatherhood. On the three-hour drive home from the beach this weekend, Alex and I started talking about parenthood, and he revealed a few funny and surprising thoughts on our first year with a baby. Here were his eight confessions, in his own words, below...

1. "I didn't bond with the baby right away."
The experience of fatherhood is thrilling, but so hard at the same time. I loved Toby from the second I saw him. But the first few months, to be honest, were pure adjustment. The baby is so helpless, and you're so clueless, and you don’t have that strong chemical, hormonal and emotional bond with the child, in the same way the mother does.

You spend the first six months of your baby's life cramming this giant rule book. You have to learn everything—how to hold the baby, how to swaddle, how to change a diaper. I had never played with dolls or even babysat, so it was totally, totally new.

I did enjoy it--it was a fascinating odyssey and deeply satisfying--but, secretly, at the same time, if Joanna had walked in and said, "My mom's going to take over for the next month," I would have been thrilled.

2. "Time alone with the baby was surprisingly profound."
Even though I felt so lost overall, I was surprised by how spending time alone with Toby felt natural and surprisingly not scary. I remember the very first night we had Toby at home. Joanna was in bed, and I had four hours alone with him. He was sleeping in the bassinet next to me, and started to stir. I realized that he had never heard music before and that I got to pick out the first song he'd ever hear. I felt like I had a hand in shaping his destiny. Choosing a song on iTunes suddenly felt profound! I decided on "Penny Lane" by The Beatles. It was bright and optimistic, like the first day of spring. It was a magical moment.

3. “My wife acted a little like she was on drugs.”
Up until you have a baby, whatever happens, you and your wife pretty much respond the same way. You're on the same wavelength. But once the baby arrives, every thing that happens, your wife has a 90-degree different take.

Joanna's highs were higher, and her lows were lower. Her general joyfulness was so high; she was starry-eyed and blissed out. On the flip side, she was more anxious. She was more inclined to take any negative thing to heart—such as Toby fussing while we changed his diaper. I figured his fussing was a small, unfortunate but inevitable thing, but it felt incredibly urgent to Joanna. She got really upset by his crying—for her, it was like an alarm clock was going off inside her. She had an extreme surge of anxiety at any possible sign of disturbance to Toby, whereas I would address his crying but it wouldn't bother me on an emotional level. I just thought, Oh, all babies cry, he'll be ok.

It's like being with someone on drugs. You're on a different plane. You look at your wife, and you have to imagine, 'What exactly are you feeling? How does the world look to you right now?' Then you have to figure out how to respond the way she would want.

Everything does come back down to earth again. Your wife no longer feels those extreme surges at both ends of the emotional spectrum and becomes more like her old self (which is a relief to her, too), and you get more acclimated and feel like your old self. By about month nine, we found ourselves settling back into our old rhythms and feeling like ourselves again (see below:).

4. "I was nervous that my wife would like the baby better."
Maybe it sounds crazy, but a great fear I always had about having children was that my future wife might like them better. In many of my friends’ families growing up, the husband was basically replaced by the kids. There's nothing more primal than the love between mother and infant. I was absolutely worried about being dropped a notch.

Once Joanna was putting Toby to bed and I heard her tell him, "You're my favorite person in the whole world, do you know that?" and I was thinking, 'Really? What about me?' It sounds ridiculous, but it was an adjustment not to be the only man in her life. But in the end, I saw that our marriage could never be replaced by a baby—it's such a different thing. That realization was a huge relief.

5. “Children's books are boring.”
I love spending time with Toby, especially when we go on walks or play the guitar. But some baby activities are s-l-o-w. Many women seem to have a tremendous capacity to step outside themselves and see things through the baby's eyes, like reading children's books. But to me, children's books are fundamentally boring. Like, mind-numbing. The Very Hungry Caterpillar is tough sledding.

6. “Everything turned a corner at nine months."
I once heard a theory that babies are inside the womb for nine months, but that they're remain in the gestational period outside the womb for the next nine months.

Everything changed when Toby was nine months old. One day, Toby didn't seem to know who I was (or care!). But the next evening, I got home from work, and Toby was eating dinner in the high chair, and he looked up at me and smiled and shrieked and did jazz hands. He recognized me! It was amazing. I felt like we had truly connected. Honestly, for the first time, he didn't only feel like my baby, but like my son.

7. “I daydream about the future with Toby.”
I often daydream about Toby growing up: listening to music, taking him on boats, teaching him how to cook a great omelet, telling stories about "the old days." I always picture us on hikes for some reason—even though I don't really go on many hikes. My father and I used to sit around for hours some nights and plan my future, and I love the idea of being on the other side of that conversation. I also look forward to imparting lessons that my dad didn't give me—like how to ask out women.

8. “I'm ready for another.”
With your first baby, it's really tough. Every day is a surprise. But now I know that I can do it. Raising a child for the first 12 months of their life is a skill I now have. Having a second baby? Believe it or not, I can't wait. :)

Thank you, Alexei! My lovelies, do you think own dads had to adjust to having children? Fellow mamas, did your husbands immediately take to new parenthood, or did they find the transition tricky? Have they said anything about the experience? If you're a guy, what are your thoughts on fatherhood? I would love to hear... xoxoSource URL: https://gbejadacosta.blogspot.com/search/label/fatherhood
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