St. Patrick's Day: on a personal note

A couple of years ago, I posted what is below on my old blog. It's a detailed account of the day that Sam was born, a day that was full of crazy stuff, but finished with a healthy arrival of a blessing to Carrie and me...

I love St. Patrick's Day. John Mayer has a song so entitled, but that's not why I love the day celebrating the patron saint of Ireland. You could say that it is because the same reason that many other Americans love the holiday, but that would not be entirely accurate. It's partly because St. Patrick's Day is my "2nd Birthday" (when I publicly professed trust in Christ). It's also partly because March 17 is the birthday of Samuel's godfather, who is Carrie's cousin (Blaine). But because of the day's happening in 2007, I have come to consider it perhaps my favorite day of the year. No, I didn't get plastered on booze...I got plastered as it was the day I officially became a father. That day was so long and involved and my being the only one not on an hallucinogenic drug that day enables me to report some of the days details more specifically than anyone else.

It all started the night before when some friends were over at our house hanging out. Carrie started having contractions (of which she had had the Braxton-Hicks variety for a month or so, off and on) that seemed to be more regular and painful than any prior to then. I called the hospital (since it was after hours and on the weekend...a Friday night)...the doctor asked, "Do you think she's going into labor?" Hmm...well let's see...that's why I'm calling you! With the fact that we were unsure if it was "actual labor" he suggested a warm bath, but that if they persisted through the night to go ahead and come in without having to call again...so our friends prayed with us and they went home so we could rest. The warm bath calmed and slowed the contractions so that we went to sleep...but they came back in a few hours.

Carrie woke me up at 3 am...out comes the stop-watch...5 minutes apart each lasting a minute or so...regularly for an hour. So we go in...get there about 4:30. They "check" her...not dilated and only 50% effaced (look it up if you don't know what it means...too technical for this blog), which was only 10% more than she was a week and a half prior to that. So they sent us back home, but before leaving they give her an Ambien CR and told me, "She'll be sleepy so when you get home you'll probably have to help her in and guide her to bed." They didn't tell me about the rampant screaming that would continue (though to be fair, they thought it would slow or stop the contractions). It did not slow or stop them. Though it would be a while before they grew closer together and became more painful, they stayed at 4-5 minutes apart and lasting a minute each time. We make it home and she sleeps between the contractions and wakes up for each one screaming, "Make it stop! Make it stop!" That freaked me...I called the doctor back, "What should I really be expecting with this magic pill?" "Well, if she wakes from time to time she may say weird stuff, but she should pretty much get some good rest." That didn't happen.

I called a lady from our (then) local church asking her to start a prayer chain for us. She asked if we needed her to come to our place. I suggested she come later in the morning and she offered to bring some lunch. I had a suspicion we'd go back to the hospital in the afternoon (if not earlier) and I would need a nap beforehand, if so. She came and I got an hour nap or so when she woke me up to say that the contractions were lasting longer and getting closer together. I got up, called the doctor, and upon hearing my voice, he recognized who I was and realized that we needed to get back up there "because if the contractions aren't doing anything to progress her labor, then we'll have to do something," which we took to mean c-section, which we were definitely okay with by that time. We go back to the hospital (about 2 pm by this time) and they "check" her again...4 centimeters and fully effaced. "THANK YOU JESUS" were Carrie's exact words.

The next few hours were not as eventful until the time came for pushing. Pushing proved difficult as it lasted for an hour and 45 minutes without hardly any progression. They had to use forceps and within a couple of minutes of that intervention Sam entered our world. Though he was born 3 1/2 weeks early, he weighed 6 lb. 7 oz. and was 19.5 inches long. They only had to have him in NICU for a couple of hours to be sure his lungs were developed enough...he was healthy!

And though despite the long and painful hours preceding the arrival, Samuel's healthy screaming and pink appearance has made St. Patrick's one of my favorite days.