Let me tell you a story. It begins at about 6:00 a.m. on September 11, 2015 when I woke up from a rather fitful sleep. It could/should have been a great night's sleep considering Callie was sleeping at Grandpa and Grandma Elwood's that night so they were dealing with her frequent (as of late) wakings instead of us. But it was more like the excited/nervous/anxious sleep of a Christmas Eve or night before the first day of school. So I woke up a lot (I've gotten used to it by the end of pregnancy plus having a not-consistently-sleeping-through-the-night two year old) but six a.m. finally arrived. I quickly got ready (potty, teeth, clean yoga pants, tee shirt and flip flops) and called the Family Birth
Place at the hospital to make sure everything was still a go for our scheduled c-section. Sure enough they were ready and waiting for us, so off Gregg and I went on the half hour drive through the quiet canyon to meet our Baby Dos. I had to answer some questions and sign some forms and soon we were in the first (of many, it would turn out) hospital room where I changed into a gown, was hooked up to some monitors so we could listen to Dos, and filled out some paperwork.
 |
| So much paperwork! |
Finally, it was go time! Gregg got suited up and I was wheeled down the hall to the OR.
 |
| What a stud ;) |
The operating room was freezing! I was shivering from the minute I got in there, due partly to the fact that I had a refrigerated antibiotic flowing into my arm through the iv and partly to the cool temps in the operating room itself and partly to excitement, I'm sure. I moved from my wheeled bed to the operating table and was prepped for my spinal block. They gave me a pillow to hug while the needle went in and in seconds I could feel by bottom end starting to go numb. I lay down on the table, with my arms stretched out to my sides, each resting on its own arm table, shivering all the while. Finally they wrapped a warm blanket over my head and shoulders and across my chest and my shivering stopped. Gregg was sitting by my head through it all. Up went a curtain between my head and the rest of me, and after a few checks to make sure I was sufficiently numb, the doctors got to work cutting and pulling and tugging. I did not remember feeling so much tugging and pulling during Callie's birth, and I said so to Gregg. He replied that I had commented about it before ("you said the same thing last time!") so apparently amnesia is real. In just a few minutes, at 9:07 a.m., with a big push from both docs on my chest, out came our screaming baby boy! They lowered the curtain so I could see him and Gregg could announce his gender (something he forgot to do with Callie - the anesthesiologist had to tell me she was a girl) and then they whisked him away to a little side room for clean-up and weighing and measuring. Gregg went along to take pictures while I was being sewn up. This part was my only complaint about the whole process (well, the doctors talking about Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner during the finishing phase was not really my fave either). When Callie was born, I got to hold her on my chest watching her blow bubbles in the OR while I was being sewn up. Here I just had to lie there listening to my baby screaming in the other room while the doctors talked about sex-change operations. Hmmm.
 |
First ever photo of Baby Dos!
(He didn't have a real name until quite a few hours later.) |
 |
Not too happy about this sudden introduction into a cold, bright world
with little to no warning! |
 |
| Nope, not happy! |
 |
8 pounds, 3.2 ounces!
(Not pictured - he was 21.25 inches long) |
 |
| Still not happy. |
 |
| Check out that hair! |
Finally we were reunited in the OR, though Gregg got to hold him until we (baby in his bassinet, I in my bed) were wheeled to our recovery/stay room (if you're keeping tally, this is room 3 of our stint at the hospital). There I was able to hold Baby Dos at last. We had the nurse snap a few family photos. They turned out super awkward (but still sweet, somehow) since I couldn't really sit up (whenever we raised the bed my blood pressure would drop and I'd get light headed). I got to breastfeed our little babe (with the help of the lactation nurse and Gregg since I was still pretty reclined and couldn't see what I was doing) and we spent the rest of the morning snuggling and loving on and trying to pick a name for this new little fellow.
We kept commenting how different things were with this delivery experience. Sure, it was still a c-section. But while I was kind of tired after not the best night of sleep, I wasn't exhausted after a day and a half of labor and three hours of pushing. Birth was in the morning rather than just before midnight, so we got to watch the first hours rather than sleep through them. We got to leave the hospital after just two nights instead of four like in Colorado. Basically, it was a breeze compared to last time (and I honestly didn't think last time was all that terrible).
Maybe it helps that our little man has also been completely opposite of his sister in practically every way. He's a boy. He has hair. Dark hair. He is big. He sleeps - at night in his crib by himself for 4+ hour stretches, in his car seat, in the front carrier, on the floor, you name it. He's hardly fussy (what red bouncing ball?). Game changer. That's Sam. (Now don't get me wrong - we absolutely love and adore Callie June in every possible way. We're just very grateful she came to us first so we can truly appreciate and enjoy our Sam-man.)
And speaking of Sam, that's his name. Finally. After going most of his birth day without one, we finally decided on Samuel Dean. Samuel wasn't on our list of boy possibilities, but our finalists just didn't seem to fit when we met him. One of our girl name options was Samantha and we had both commented on liking the nickname Sam, when it hit us that Sam is also a boy name, too. Duh. His middle name, Dean, is after my Grandpa Elwood and my dad (his middle name is Dean, too, after his dad). Baby Sam or Sammy or Sambo is what he's called at home most times. He's our Sam and we're happy he's around.
