Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

A few details, though I am now running on, well, nothing much left at all.
I came home briefly to get a little sleep, since I can't sleep in
hospitals...

19 hours in au natural, chomp down on the bit and breath, labor. And
nothing, no dilation, nothing. She needed the epidural at that point.
The doctor ordered Pitocin to increase the intensity of the contractions,
and broke her water manually. 9 hours on the epidural in "relative"
comfort and... not much. She dilated only 6 cm and no matter how fast the
Pitocin was being pumped, the contractions weren't pushing the baby
enough.

The doctor ordered a C-Section, which included yours truly, in scrubs,
looking on. Ick.. Her family has a history of very rough labor and, in
modern times, C-Sections.

So it was pretty quick after that. Everyone in the OR freaked out about
the size of the baby that came out of such a tiny woman, and the doctor
said "Well, there was your problem!" Actually he figures the root of the
problem was that the bag of water was seated squarely in front of the
cervix initially. So the first 19 hours of labor was just the kids heads
bagging against the bag, and the cervix wasn't budging until the epidural
relaxed her enough. But her tiny frame would likely have presented
problems in any case.

The kid has a good size noggin, which is almost perfectly round since he
avoided all the squishing of a vaginal delivery. But that squishing also
serves to expel the mucous from the baby's lungs... so Droog II had some
extra work to do. Luckily he was screaming his ***** off, which was
expelling the mucous. But they put him in an incubator with extra oxygen
so his blood oxygen level would stay up while he worked out the goo.

He looks severely sunburned. I guess that's how new baby skin looks. But
everything is there. Ten fingers and ten toes equipped with a total of 20
little razor blades. Oh, and that thing that makes him a boy (and I've
told them to go nowhere near it with any sharp objects.)

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

I'm going to bed now. I probably won't be posting for a few days since
there is a lot to do. Thanks everyone! Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

A few details, though I am now running on, well, nothing much left at all.
I came home briefly to get a little sleep, since I can't sleep in
hospitals...

19 hours in au natural, chomp down on the bit and breath, labor. And
nothing, no dilation, nothing. She needed the epidural at that point.
The doctor ordered Pitocin to increase the intensity of the contractions,
and broke her water manually. 9 hours on the epidural in "relative"
comfort and... not much. She dilated only 6 cm and no matter how fast the
Pitocin was being pumped, the contractions weren't pushing the baby

The doctor ordered a C-Section, which included yours truly, in scrubs,
looking on. Ick.. Her family has a history of very rough labor and, in
modern times, C-Sections.

So it was pretty quick after that. Everyone in the OR freaked out about
the size of the baby that came out of such a tiny woman, and the doctor
said "Well, there was your problem!" Actually he figures the root of the
problem was that the bag of water was seated squarely in front of the
cervix initially. So the first 19 hours of labor was just the kids heads
bagging against the bag, and the cervix wasn't budging until the epidural
relaxed her enough. But her tiny frame would likely have presented
problems in any case.

The kid has a good size noggin, which is almost perfectly round since he
avoided all the squishing of a vaginal delivery. But that squishing also
serves to expel the mucous from the baby's lungs... so Droog II had some
extra work to do. Luckily he was screaming his ***** off, which was
expelling the mucous. But they put him in an incubator with extra oxygen
so his blood oxygen level would stay up while he worked out the goo.

He looks severely sunburned. I guess that's how new baby skin looks. But
everything is there. Ten fingers and ten toes equipped with a total of 20
little razor blades. Oh, and that thing that makes him a boy (and I've
told them to go nowhere near it with any sharp objects.)

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

I'm going to bed now. I probably won't be posting for a few days since
there is a lot to do. Thanks everyone! Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.

--
OBSERVATORY, n. A place where astronomers conjecture away the guesses of
their predecessors.

- Ambrose Bierce

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.
The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

Now there are two.
The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.
The sound of him crying makes me tear up.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

A few details, though I am now running on, well, nothing much left at all.
I came home briefly to get a little sleep, since I can't sleep in
hospitals...

19 hours in au natural, chomp down on the bit and breath, labor. And
nothing, no dilation, nothing. She needed the epidural at that point.
The doctor ordered Pitocin to increase the intensity of the contractions,
and broke her water manually. 9 hours on the epidural in "relative"
comfort and... not much. She dilated only 6 cm and no matter how fast the
Pitocin was being pumped, the contractions weren't pushing the baby enough.

The doctor ordered a C-Section, which included yours truly, in scrubs,
looking on. Ick.. Her family has a history of very rough labor and, in
modern times, C-Sections.

So it was pretty quick after that. Everyone in the OR freaked out about
the size of the baby that came out of such a tiny woman, and the doctor
said "Well, there was your problem!" Actually he figures the root of the
problem was that the bag of water was seated squarely in front of the
cervix initially. So the first 19 hours of labor was just the kids heads
bagging against the bag, and the cervix wasn't budging until the epidural
relaxed her enough. But her tiny frame would likely have presented
problems in any case.

The kid has a good size noggin, which is almost perfectly round since he
avoided all the squishing of a vaginal delivery. But that squishing also
serves to expel the mucous from the baby's lungs... so Droog II had some
extra work to do. Luckily he was screaming his ***** off, which was
expelling the mucous. But they put him in an incubator with extra oxygen
so his blood oxygen level would stay up while he worked out the goo.

He looks severely sunburned. I guess that's how new baby skin looks. But
everything is there. Ten fingers and ten toes equipped with a total of 20
little razor blades. Oh, and that thing that makes him a boy (and I've
told them to go nowhere near it with any sharp objects.)

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

I'm going to bed now. I probably won't be posting for a few days since
there is a lot to do. Thanks everyone! Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.


--

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

A few details, though I am now running on, well, nothing much left at all.
I came home briefly to get a little sleep, since I can't sleep in
hospitals...

19 hours in au natural, chomp down on the bit and breath, labor. And
nothing, no dilation, nothing. She needed the epidural at that point.
The doctor ordered Pitocin to increase the intensity of the contractions,
and broke her water manually. 9 hours on the epidural in "relative"
comfort and... not much. She dilated only 6 cm and no matter how fast the
Pitocin was being pumped, the contractions weren't pushing the baby enough.

The doctor ordered a C-Section, which included yours truly, in scrubs,
looking on. Ick.. Her family has a history of very rough labor and, in
modern times, C-Sections.

So it was pretty quick after that. Everyone in the OR freaked out about
the size of the baby that came out of such a tiny woman, and the doctor
said "Well, there was your problem!" Actually he figures the root of the
problem was that the bag of water was seated squarely in front of the
cervix initially. So the first 19 hours of labor was just the kids heads
bagging against the bag, and the cervix wasn't budging until the epidural
relaxed her enough. But her tiny frame would likely have presented
problems in any case.

The kid has a good size noggin, which is almost perfectly round since he
avoided all the squishing of a vaginal delivery. But that squishing also
serves to expel the mucous from the baby's lungs... so Droog II had some
extra work to do. Luckily he was screaming his ***** off, which was
expelling the mucous. But they put him in an incubator with extra oxygen
so his blood oxygen level would stay up while he worked out the goo.

He looks severely sunburned. I guess that's how new baby skin looks. But
everything is there. Ten fingers and ten toes equipped with a total of 20
little razor blades. Oh, and that thing that makes him a boy (and I've
told them to go nowhere near it with any sharp objects.)

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

I'm going to bed now. I probably won't be posting for a few days since
there is a lot to do. Thanks everyone! Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

<(((*> Now there are two.

<(((*> The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.

Now there are two.

The short story: An 8.25 lb. baby boy.

A few details, though I am now running on, well, nothing much left at all.
I came home briefly to get a little sleep, since I can't sleep in
hospitals...

19 hours in au natural, chomp down on the bit and breath, labor. And
nothing, no dilation, nothing. She needed the epidural at that point.
The doctor ordered Pitocin to increase the intensity of the contractions,
and broke her water manually. 9 hours on the epidural in "relative"
comfort and... not much. She dilated only 6 cm and no matter how fast the
Pitocin was being pumped, the contractions weren't pushing the baby enough.

The doctor ordered a C-Section, which included yours truly, in scrubs,
looking on. Ick.. Her family has a history of very rough labor and, in
modern times, C-Sections.

So it was pretty quick after that. Everyone in the OR freaked out about
the size of the baby that came out of such a tiny woman, and the doctor
said "Well, there was your problem!" Actually he figures the root of the
problem was that the bag of water was seated squarely in front of the
cervix initially. So the first 19 hours of labor was just the kids heads
bagging against the bag, and the cervix wasn't budging until the epidural
relaxed her enough. But her tiny frame would likely have presented
problems in any case.

The kid has a good size noggin, which is almost perfectly round since he
avoided all the squishing of a vaginal delivery. But that squishing also
serves to expel the mucous from the baby's lungs... so Droog II had some
extra work to do. Luckily he was screaming his ***** off, which was
expelling the mucous. But they put him in an incubator with extra oxygen
so his blood oxygen level would stay up while he worked out the goo.

He looks severely sunburned. I guess that's how new baby skin looks. But
everything is there. Ten fingers and ten toes equipped with a total of 20
little razor blades. Oh, and that thing that makes him a boy (and I've
told them to go nowhere near it with any sharp objects.)

The sound of him crying makes me tear up. It isn't an annoying sound at
all. Somehow the sound actually pulls at my solar plexus as if to draw me
to protect him. I've been thinking all this time that the attitude of a
father is a matter of honor - a choice. But this feels automatic. He
cries and I feel a reaction right below my sternum. It's weird, but it
feels good.

I'm going to bed now. I probably won't be posting for a few days since
there is a lot to do. Thanks everyone! Aside from the family members who
were there, I wanted to share this with all of you.