First-Born

When we found out that San was pregnant I was a tiny bit ambivalent at first since we had no money at all and supporting a baby wasn’t going to be cheap. But I was soon carried away by the great excitement of bringing a child into the world. Naturally, being the person I was then and am today, I went to the library and read every single thing I could find about newborns. That search took many, many weeks but I soon was a literal expert on what babies could and couldn’t do. To my considerable surprise I learned babies can focus their eyes even shortly after birth, but only within a narrow range. And that new mothers are better able to identify their newborn from smell rather than by sight. I learned what colors, shapes, and patterns attracted their attention the most. I learned about their reflexes, about feeding, about what they should be able to do and when. Until I became a walking encyclopedia of baby facts.

Back in those Stone Age days telling the sex of a fetus was akin to reading tea leaves or divining the future by scattering bones and understanding the patterns. The pediatrician thought it would be a boy but hedged his bet pretty well. Actually, I didn’t give a shit either way. Healthy is what I wanted.

As the day approached I told San it would be great if she had the baby on my birthday, May 17^th. All she wanted was to deliver. The sooner the better. She was ready.

On May 15^th she woke me around 3:00am and told me she was having contractions. She wanted me to time them. So, I looked at the clock and promptly fell asleep. A few minutes later she said she was having another contraction. How many minutes apart were they? Oh shit. Shamefaced, I admitted I had fallen asleep. Not a happy camper, she. I duly noted the time and promised I’d stay awake this time. And fell asleep again. That happened two or three times more until she timed the contractions herself. Seven or eight minutes apart and probably longer, or so sleepy-eyed me thought. A very nervous first-time mother, she called the OB-GYN. Turned out it was false labor. We finally both went back to sleep.

Nothing all the next day. Not a single twinge. I was working at Shell so called every hour or so. That night we went to sleep thinking the great event was a couple days away.

San shook me awake around 3:30 in the morning. “This is it,” she said. “My contractions are about five minutes apart.”

Suddenly wide awake I timed the next one. Five minutes on the nose. Excited, we got dressed, San called the doctor’s exchange and told then we were on the way. I grabbed the packed overnight bag that had been ready at the door for two weeks and off we went to St. Mary’s Hospital on Clayton Road.

The roads were empty at that hour so I flew there in record time. I stopped at the entrance to the Emergency Room, walked her inside, and then drove to the parking garage. By the time I had parked and made it up to the maternity floor, after first filling out insurance forms of course, she was already gowned and getting prepped. Unlike today, I was told to scram and go straight to the Maternity Waiting Room. Where I sat with five or six other expectant fathers and assorted family.

When 7:00am rolled around I called the Holiday Inn where two dozen or so Shell reps and reps-in-training were supposed to be assembling for a 7:30 rah-rah sales meeting. I got the meeting leader and told him I would be able to attend the meeting because my wife was having a baby. The guy, apparently a supreme asshole from somewhere in Southern California (don’t know for sure since we had never met) asked in a very sarcastic tone if she was going to deliver this week or next. I huffily informed him that she was in the delivery room right then but I would be happy to attend the sales meeting if Shell Oil thought that was more important than being in the hospital for the birth of our first child. He apologized and I hung up on him. What a prick. After that I called San’s mom and my mother. They promised to be there ASAP.

At one point I was allowed into San’s room and found her all drugged up. The doctor had given her what they called a “twilight” drug that cut down on the pain. She was really out of it. Groggy is too polite a description. I held her hand until she awkwardly sat up tried to turn over, looked at me with a jaundiced eye, and said, “Nevermore.”

She didn’t head me whisper, “Quoth the Raven,” to complete Poe’s famous line, though in reverse order.

Right around 1:00pm the delivery nurse came into the Waiting Room, spied me, and announced the birth of our son. I was absolutely ecstatic, jumping up and running around the room hugging and kissing first my mother, San’s mom, and then all the older women who were waiting for their daughters to deliver. I followed the amused nurse to the delivery area to see San and our new baby. Oh my God. He looked like a war victim, bloody and bruised under the eyes from the forceps delivery (thanks to that damned Twilight). But beautiful beyond words. The Dr Dryer told me his Apgar Score was 10 in the first minute after birth and also at five minutes, which he thought was as good as it got. And so did I since I knew 10 was the highest possible score and indicated a strong, healthy baby. I thought my heart would explode with happiness.

The rest of that day is a blur. About all I remember is calling work and telling the District Manager’s secretary to be sure to tell the guy who was running the marketing meeting that we had a baby boy and that he had been a jerk on the phone that morning. She and I had gotten friendly and I knew from her reaction she would slip a knife in the guy’s back when she told our news to the DM, who also liked me since I had scored the highest on all the tests taken by training reps in the Midwest. Another feather in his cap, of course.

Back then newly delivered mothers and the neonates were kept in the hospital for either five or six days. Insurance companies be damned. So, early the next morning I was standing outside the nursery where all the babies were imprisoned and put my blue card with the baby’s last name against the glass. One of the nurses wheeled his little crib to the window and I stared at him as if he was the only baby in the world.

Then, to my absolute amazement, David (David Andrew is the name we decided on) slowly raised his head and appeared to look around, and then slowly lowered his head, turning it in the other direction. I went crazy, knowing from all the baby literature I had read that a newborn’s neck muscles are very poorly developed. A few minutes later I ran to San’s room and found her talking to our pediatrician, Dr. Joseph Sato, who we both thought, then and now, was the world’s best pediatrician. I excitedly told the story of how David raised his head but Sato burst my bubble and said dryly it was all but impossible. His weak neck muscles couldn’t possibly support his head at only one full day old. I kept my mouth shut while he was in the room but later told San that that’s exactly what had happened.

When 6:30 rolled around the next morning I was back at the nursery window with my blue ID card. A few minutes later, as I was beaming at my son, Dr. Sato walked up and said good morning. After shaking hands we turned back to look at David. That’s when he picked up his head, looked around, turned it, and slowly laid it back so he faced in the other direction. Sato was stunned. Speechless is a better word. After a minute of staring with his mouth open he finally stammered that he had never seen a two-day-old baby strong enough to raise his head and turn it over. Twice, I reminded him. At least once yesterday and now this morning. We both went to San’s room where Sato himself told her what we had seen.. It was the first of many remarkable physical accomplishments for our son.

I took the next week off work and spent the whole time taking care of David. San was a wreck. She treated him like he was a porcelain doll that would break if she held him the wrong way. So, even though I had had zero experience with babies I just took over and did everything, from changing his nasty cloth diapers to feeding him. Several weeks before that I had cut out wheels made of stiff, white paper decorated with designs featuring bright colors and geometric shapes. The wheel had a cut out that allowed it to slide over the bottle and I would turn the wheel every minute or so and give the baby something else to look at as he sucked away.

San’s relatives thought I was crazy until they saw for themselves that David would stop sucking and his eyes would follow the shapes as they moved around the bottle until a new shape came into view. As soon as the new shape became visible he would start sucking again but at a much faster rate than before. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that he could see the colors and shapes. Despite being one week old. And that started the wonderful relationship I had with our young son.