About a month ago, on Friday, February 13th, my little Superman came into this world. He was two weeks early, but healthy. He also has a unique birth story.
On the 12th at 4:00 PM I had a doctor’s appointment. At that appointment I was 2 cm dialated with no effacement. I went to bed that night as usual with no unusual pain. At 1:00 AM, I awoke to my first big contraction and started timing them after I felt the second one. They were 1 minute long and ten minutes apart. By 2:00 AM they were almost 2 minutes long and five minutes apart. At 2:30 I woke my husband because they were 2 to 2.5 minutes long and only two minutes apart, not to mention they hurt like crazy. He ran around getting a bag packed for himself and an overnight bag packed for our two year old so he could stay with his grandparents. While he was doing that I called my doctor and she told me to go to the hospital. My husband, however, insisted we take our toddler to his grandparents because he was embarrassed at how messy our house was and didn’t want his mom and dad to come over and stay with our son because of it. I honestly could have killed him at that point.
We finally got to the hospital at 3:30 AM, at which point I was feeling a lot of pressure in my lower back and in my pelvis. I was put into triage right away and found to be at 8cm dilation and 100% effacement. A few minutes later the pressure was more intense and my contractions were one right after the other. The emergency staff doctor came in to let me know my doctor would be there shortly and they were going to move me to a room and see about getting me something to help with the pain. About 20 seconds after he walked out I started screaming, “he’s coming! He’s coming now!” Don’t know why I screamed it, don’t think I meant to, it just happened that way. My husband yelled for the doctor who came flying in with 5 or 6 nurses. I was at 10 cm and the baby was crowning. Someone asked if they could get me to a room in time, to which someone else replied they could try.
No sooner had they pushed me out the triage door than I said, “He’s coming! I need to push!” It was not a conscious decision. It was more like a reflex, I just couldn’t stop it and the pressure was so intense at that point. One push, my water finally broke, and there was my son lying on the gurney with me. I remember seeing the surprise on the nurse’s face who had been at the end of the gurney and the doctor jumping across me to take care of the umbilical cord that had become wrapped around my son’s neck. A few moments later my son was placed on my chest and they continued to take me to a delivery & recovery room to finish everything. From the moment my son was placed in my arms, I noticed nothing else, heard nothing else. I couldn’t tell you how many nurses were there or where my husband had been during all of this. I saw only my second child in all of his perfection. I took in every detail of his tiny body.
My doctor arrived in time to finish everything with the later part of the delivery as I lay there watching the nurses weigh and measure my newborn. At that point I notice my husband watching as well and then smiled when I saw the joy in his eyes as he got to hold him for the first time.
We named him Clark Anthony and at that, all the nurses began calling him superman (after the comic character). We had a lot of fun in choosing Clark’s name. It is fun in two ways:
1. Our older son we named Louis after a family memeber. So even though it is spelled differently, we have two sons, Louis and Clark (like the explorers).
2. My husband is a big comic fan so Clark was named after several superheroes. Clark – Clark Kent aka Superman; Anthony – Tony Stark aka Ironman; and his initials are CAP which is short for Captain America.
All in all, it was quite a different experience from my first delivery. I recovered much quicker this time as well. The past several weeks have been challenging. I’ve been home alone with my toddler and my newborn and had quite the battle with Post Partum Depression, which in and of itself is a topic for a different post. I will admit though, I am not looking forward to returning to work on April 1st. I had wanted to take eight weeks maternity leave, but after being forced to resign from my teaching position because I didn’t qualify for FMLA (also a topic for another post) I have had to cut my time with my baby short and return to employment at just six weeks post partum. In all honesty, I don’t want to work at all. I just want to stay home with my little ones. I try to remind myself that six weeks after I return to work, summer break starts. So I just have to make it through six weeks.
Well, enough talk. Here’s what you know you’ve been waiting for: baby pictures.
Day of his birth:
One month old: