At the end of the 35th week of gestation, our doctor gave
us the news that Nicolas would be born by C-Section in one week, instead of the two we had
expected. The doctor decided we couldn't wait any longer. We were more than ready to end
the weeks of confinement, since Irina had been ordered to bed rest nearly two months
earlier to avoid serious problems due to placenta previa. On May 17th we l with packed
bags and charged batteries, a little less nervous than I expected. Irina's
"adopted parents" joined us at the hospital. They are, in truth, the parents of
one of Irina's co-workers. Ramon offered his sage advice, and Sonya was as excited as if
Irina were really her daughter. After an hour or so, Irina and I were sent into the prep
room where only the two of us and all the nurses were allowed. Sonya and Ramon were
slightly disappointed to be separated, but they waited for hours as dutifully as proud
grandparents-to-be. Irina changed
into her surgical gown. I was handed a package of folded blue paper and instructed to
strip, then dress in its contents. As I unfolded the package, it appeared to be an extra
large (one size fits all) surgical scrub suit, made of fibrous blue paper. After dressing, I began to setup the camera. I heard Irina shriek and giggle. The nurse was performing the surgical prep, shaving her abdomen. "Ouch, that tickles!" Irina said. She was on the bed, jumping with each stroke of the razor. The motion of the razor tickled her. Both she and the nurse were laughing and teasing over the procedure. The nurse said she'd done this for 14 years, and this was a first. No one, in her experience, had ever laughed while being shaved. After the
remaining prep work, Irina was transported to a pre-op area, and I was told to Irina's two doctors were reading magazines and joking while they waited for Irina's prep to finish. As she passed them on the way to her pre-op preparations she joked, "There are my two butchers!" In good humor, one of the doctors said "Nothing wrong with being a butcher," and they began to humorously joke about the various skills of preparing suitable steaks and roasts. It seems that Irina's main doctor was, in his youth, a delivery runner for a butcher in his hometown. Somehow the theme of beef and bulls segued into a recount of one doctor's visit to Spain, and his memory of a bullfight. His partner, Irina's OB/GYN, then announced that he planned to enter every O.R. in a red outfit, and draped an imaginary red cape over his arm, adjusted his imaginary hat, gestured to a pretend crowd, lifted his head and pranced about the hallway, acknowledging the music and applause in his mind. At this point, it seems, the patient is the metaphoric bull. Now anyone could easily find this a bit much, but it did mean the doctors were at ease about the upcoming surgery, and I left it at that. Within 20 minutes I was called into the operating room. Irina already had her conversation with the anesthesiologist. Her spinal injection had taken effect, and she was sprawled out on the table, with a drape obscuring her view of the doctors' work. The surgery was about to begin. Irina was wide-awake, as she had requested. The anesthesiologist was seated on a short rolling stool, just to the right of Irina's head, gently talking to her in an upside down view. He instructed me to take the other stool, after I placed my camera on a table to the left, and then pointed to her left hand. As I took her hand in mine, she seemed slightly nervous, alert and in good humor. She called out to the surgeon, "are you roasting cashews over there?" She was aware by scent alone, without feeling it, that the surgery had begun. The scent was from the high temperature used to seal the edges of the incision. After only a few moments I was invited to raise just enough to look over the drape and watch the doctors pull my son's face from inside Irina's abdomen. At first all my mind registered was his face, and then his body, all gray with vernix, sporting a grimace that expressed his dismay at being rudely awakened from a perfectly good amnio bath. Then my eyes drifted toward the doctors other work. I gazed into Irina's incision, fully exposing a very thin layer of fat and severed muscle, with a view of private internals even her mother had never seen. It struck me just how clean they can keep an open incision that large; virtually no blood was visible. I later measured the cut, which was only about 8 inches, but my eyes saw an opening 3 feet long. If one isn't prepared to witness this sight, it could floor you instantly. Television pictures of similar surgery are not nearly as dramatic as looking upon the uterus of someone you love. Just then Nicolas let out a cry. It was only a short yelp, but loud and clear enough that Irina's eyes immediately swelled with tears. "I hear him!", she said, "aww - Hello Nicolas!". She wanted to see him, but for the next few moments that wasn't possible. I was invited to cut the cord, the symbolic separation that began his independent life. As they moved him to his prep table, and began their work to clean and wrap him, he let out an occasional yell, which re-assured his mother that he was alive, and his young lungs were handling air well. His tiny trumpet voice worked into a frenzy as he was cleaned, since the new sensation of cold air and bright lights are certainly a shocking introduction to the world no matter how one arrives. I was escorted
to the table where they prepared our son. The surgeons continued their work on Irina,
while I was pre-occupied with Nicolas. I held the camera, just barely in control, and had
another chance to cut the cord "to length." Just then, the surgeon called out to me to say that the placenta had been removed without problems. With placenta previa there can be complications with that stage, which can lead to serious problems. The doctor was informing me that the worst peril was over. Now the nurse was able to introduce Nicolas to his mother. Irina was still on the surgical table, enduring the final closing to her surgery. She complained that she was beginning to feel some pain, so the doctor added some additional medication. She began to hyperventilate, and her head began to swim. Then the nurse placed Nicolas on Irina's chest, where he cooed and she gazed into his eyes. Instantly her breathing stabilized and she was calm. She touched his cheeks and marveled at her son. "Hello Nicolas", she said slowly and softly, "I love you." Finally, everything she had long suffered was made worth the effort. Nicolas had proved more soothing than the doctor's medicines. But that was it! A C-Section is quick compared to the endless hours of panting and checking of a "standard" delivery. No precious "vile" remarks to report; no yelling and complaining. Aside from waiting before the event, this was barely 25 minutes from start to finish! Of course, in
accordance with hospital rules, Nicolas was removed too soon for further monitoring. He
was placed in a strolling incubator, and I walked with him
to the nursery. On the way we ran into Ramon and Sonia, eager to hear the news. At first
they didn't realize the baby in the box was our prize. Irina was moved to the recovery area. I bounced between the two locations, taking videos of Nicolas and then showing them to Irina. She was fatigued and paralyzed from the waist down. Her temperature had dropped about 4 degrees, so the nurse wrapped her in an air heated blanket. The nurse's goal was to see Irina move her legs, but our goal was to get our hands on our son. Though it seemed like days, Irina was moved to our room in about 2 hours. Then, about an hour later, they brought Nicolas to us. Here, in a modest but rather nicely appointed hospital room, we began our life as parents. Over the next four days we would adjust to her recovery pains, his nursing habits and an annoying series of interruptions for quick checks on blood pressure, temperature and a host of biological details. A single remote control operated the television and the nurse call, which we constantly confused for each other. In an attempt to find something to watch, we accidentally called upon the nurses. Attempting to adjust the bed would occasional ring a nurse. After we adjusted ourselves in the room, Nicolas became our central focus of attention. I simply couldn't put him down, and Irina was charmed over her son. We looked over each feature. I found my chin and her forehead, but the nose is still a point of contention. She's worried that it's her nose, but I'm certain it's a blend. His toes are like mine, and his hair is like hers. There's still some lanugo on his back, but virtually no eyebrows. In all aspects, though, we were so pleased to discover that he's cute. I know everyone thinks their baby is cute; and they should. The fact is, though, that many babies look awkward, often misshapen, with loose and blotchy skin. Our son really is cute, though, and that's a pleasure of it's own. After some time I discovered how to unfold the overstuffed chair, so it stretched out into a single bed. The nurse suggested that we let them take Nicolas for a few hours so we could sleep. Exhaustion answered for us just this once, and we slept for about three hours. Since Irina was stuck in bed with surgical after effects, diaper changes were my task. The nurses handled a couple, but we really didn't give him back to them except when they needed to perform tests. I got the first look at the business end, and shared my view with Irina. His little buns are still a touch flat, but they'll develop shortly. Irina and I both have good bun development, so his source material is desirable. Now, for a newborn, the penis is sizeable, but not unusual. Something on the medium size range. Newborn boys generally do have hefty sacks compared to the body size, and his are quite profound. Previous ultra-sound images showed that the jewels had already descended, so gentle handling is required. Even through the diaper I swear you can see a bulge. On the second day, he was circumcised. Irina couldn't bring herself to watch, but I wasn't about to miss one of the most momentous occasions of his early life. We debated whether or not to have him circumcised, but the conversation was usually along the lines of "are you sure?" In the wild, naked men would probably have better protection from the slap of twigs and attack of insects with an intact foreskin. These days, though, most women expect to see a circumcised penis, and often feel that the sight of an intact foreskin looks odd. Since there isn't much support for the benefits of an intact foreskin, and assuming there would be the pressure of expectation throughout his future on the occasions that his penis may become visible, we decided to accept convention and have it done. Nicolas seemed more concerned about being strapped into the little sculpted table than the actual moment of the surgery. The doctor was finished in about the time it takes to change a diaper, and turned to me with a thumbs up to indicate it was, for him, another successful circumcision. Afterwards Nicolas was quiet and calm, especially since Irina offered sincere apologies and lavished him with love and reassurance. With each diaper change came a close examination of the minor surgery and his recovery. Gauze with Vaseline at each change, and in a few days his penis took on the familiar appearance I had hoped to achieve. During the first and second day we could barely get him to open an eye. Bright lights were a deterrent, and, of course, he spent the first 48 hours sleeping. We noticed every movement of his legs and arms, and recognized most of them from the motions of Irina's tummy. On rare occasions he swings his arms wide open, while pushing out with his legs - all 4 limbs straight out. "I remember that - that's what he was doing!", Irina said to me. The second day was "gas day" according to the doctor. Irina had terrible pains, typical of the recovery. We walked around the maternity area when we could, but getting in and out of bed could take 10 minutes or more. As she made steps toward recovery we really didn't think we could tolerate any visitors. However, some of her friends had planned a one-hour drive to see her, so we really couldn't refuse. I placed a sign on the door that read, "treatments in progress, nurses and staff only please - call Jason's cell phone." Within minutes of that sign's placement two of our guests arrived. Irina was in one of the most compromising of occupations, so I took Nicolas out for a visit while she took time to prepare. The first two visitors where husband and wife, and co-workers at Irina's firm. They have been married a bit more than a years, and are contentiously debating whether to have children sooner or later. He's getting plenty of push, and she hopes for every incentive. I made sure she had plenty of time to demonstrate the pleasures of a new child. Irina called out that she was ready, and more guests began to arrive. Soon the little room was overflowing with seven people and one infant. With the exception of the visiting husband, all the visitors were women. Ramon, the adopted grandfather, stopped by a for a short while, too. With the exception of the wife, all the female visitors were single. Each of them took turns holding Nicolas - with wide eyes and singing voices they loved every feature, with the full force of their maternal instincts filling them with awe and wonder. Joy filled the room, though our visiting husband had to squirm just a little when I took a picture of he and his wife holding my son as if they had their own. Each, in turn, congratulated Irina on a fabulous child. Within a couple of hours our guests departed, and Irina had to admit the visit really lifted her spirit. Then, the last of the spinal anesthesia wore off. The doctor explained that a touch of morphine was added in the spinal injection, to give her a good night's rest. Now, the swelling set in. Sizeable doses of pain medication were prescribed, which had some tolerable side effects. Irina and I had the same conversation about 4 times; each one was new to her. It did, however, help to comfort her, and only the details were made fuzzy. She remembers the important memories, and I took plenty of videos. The first nursing, the second nursing, all three of us, and more. On the third day Irina's swelling and discomfort made it easy to convince the doctor to give us a fourth day at the hospital. By this time we had begun to adopt the room as home. The comfort of room service was immense. I had taken kitchen duty since Irina's bed rest was ordered about two months before. Even the nurses' interruptions had been pleasantly offset by their attitudes and personalities. Over the course of 4 days I had strolled the hallways of our temporary home many times. Instead of slipping downstairs to our kitchen, I'd take an elevator to visit a microwave oven two floors below, sometimes at 2 am, sometimes at 2 pm, always dressed without concern. The nurses seemed like visiting cousins. Recovery pains aside, it was a wonderful way to begin our family threesome. By the time we were expected to leave the hospital we were so accustomed to the place we almost didn't want to go. We did long to regain our privacy, since the nurses seem so preoccupied with recording every diaper change and it's contents. In a rush, without much ceremony, we strapped our son into his car seat, loaded our gifts and clothes, took a quick photo, and then headed out to show Nicolas his home. We are just getting to know our son, but already we are charmed. I look at him with joy and feel my eyes swell with pride. I relish every cry and gesture. Irina created a fantastic son, matching my greatest hope, filling me with love. Please click here to see more of his after-birth pics. Thanks for bearing with me, Proud Daddy of Nicolas Cameron. |
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Although
very comfortable, I felt naked and airy walking around in it.
wait in the hall to be called. Although my scrubs were paper, several other expectant
parents asked me for directions to places I couldn't possibly know. I was tempted to
pretend, but the nurses jumped in with directions each time. 
For a few moments I photographed my shoe, the wall and someone's crotch,
all without intent. 
Sonia gazed proudly,
exclaiming her joy in Spanish, which I haven't the skill to repeat. They joined me at the
nursery, where we watched behind glass while the nurses tended to our son.
