I was walking into an RPO rehearsal, buzzing my burnt-out lips and hoping the conductor didn't spend too much time on Alexander Nevsky today. I'd already played two kiddie shows full of Jurassic Park and Star Wars earlier that morning, and now I had two back to back rehearsals of film music in Rochester. I was going to need an ice pack by the time the day was over.
I circled up to the fourth or fifth level of the parking garage and parked the car. As I was pulling my trumpets out of the backseat I felt my phone buzzing. Pulling it out of my pocket, I saw that it was J.
"Hi, what's up?"
"My water just broke."
I stood still in the garage for a second. The baby wasn't due for almost another two WEEKS. And that was just the due date...James didn't come for another ten days after that.
"I'm not in labor yet, but I think this baby is coming in the next twenty four hours."
"Do we need to go into the hospital?"
"I'm not sure yet, I'll call in."
"Okay, I'm going to let somebody know I won't be at rehearsal."
I flagged down the personnel manager, got myself excused, and drove home. J met me at the door looking fairly calm, all things considered, and we were shortly joined by our sister in law K. When James was born--and I'm going to try to treat Owen as his own person as much as I can throughout his growing up years, and avoid constantly comparing him to James--when James was born, we were almost panicky with nervous energy and anticipation. It didn't help that we had an extra week and a half to get up-tight about the whole thing.
This time, J met me at the door and told me that there were still some boxes to be unpacked in the upstairs bedroom, and she was going to work with K on setting up the baby's room some more. About to have a baby, ho hum.
I went out for some hospital supplies that evening--we remembered what the food was like from last time--and J finished packing the hospital bag that we were going to get around to once we'd finished moving in. The contractions started coming, and I'm afraid to say that she didn't get much sleep that night. I slept like a rock. She woke me up at 6 AM, and said it was time to go.
That was about the lowest point for her, I think. The contractions were still pretty irregular, but they were lasting a long time and she was in considerable "discomfort." I told her repeatedly that she could swear if she needed to, but she didn't bite. She did throw up, though. I threw on some jeans, made a pot of coffee downstairs, and rang the on-call doctor a few times. He never called back.
At 7 AM we gave up on waiting for the on-call doctor and drove to the hospital. We drove to the wrong hospital, actually. What exactly led us to Highland Hospital instead of Strong varies depending on who you ask. My version of events (the true version) is only available by private request, because J just did me a pretty significant favor by birthing me a son. The other version (which is kind of like a tall tale or a fable) involves me not looking up directions carefully enough.
Anyway, we arrived at Strong a few minutes later and J was wheeled up to triage while I parked the car. When we did this with James we were completely lost in the hospital maze before we found our way up to where we were going. This time I knew exactly which back staircase would take me where I wanted to go, and I asked the coffee shop what varieties they had out, since I'd be back down in a bit.
Perhaps the biggest scare of the morning was when we found out that J might be too far along already to receive an epidural. Fortunately, the anesthesiologist (everyone's favorite person) squeezed us in, and then J felt a lot better. It was about 9:00 when J turned over comfortably onto her side and I collapsed in the big armchair beside her.
"You know, I'd be on the road to rehearsal right now if this was a normal day."
"I'd be getting James ready to go to a sitter, because I'd have work this afternoon."
"We'd probably be making lists of things that need to be unpacked and projects around the house."
"You'd have lessons?"
"Probably. And I'd need to practice too."
"This is much more relaxing."
"And we can say his name now. Owen, Owen, Owen."
"Have you decided on a middle name yet?"
"I want to get a look at him before I decide for sure."
And that was how we had the most relaxing morning we'd shared together in many weeks. We had no mortgage paperwork to fill out, no boxes to pack, no three-year old to look after, and no rehearsals to attend. We talked about the World Series and some folks from church. It was really pretty nice.
The actual birth part went pretty smoothly too. Unlike James (not that I'll be comparing Owen to James throughout their childhoods) there was no perceived risk of meconium (which I pronounced "merconium" several times before I heard the correct pronunciation) for this delivery, so there were fewer doctors and attendants in the room. The pushing lasted less than fifteen minutes, and I didn't pass out this time.
At 12:06 on October 30th, much earlier than expected but very welcome nonetheless, Owen came into the world. He mewed a little bit, and the doctor asked me whether we had a name. I was tearing up, and had to take a minute. "Owen Nicholas!" I said.
They laid him on J's chest and cleaned him off--he was rather cheesy--and we gazed at our new son. He looks just like his big brother in so many ways, but now we have a baby again. We have a baby that stays still for photos and wants to be held, and doesn't talk, and is helpless in nearly every way. It's hard to believe that James was ever so tiny...and I suppose the lesson is that baby Owen won't be tiny for too long.
J was great. I'd like to think that we both did a lot better this time around, but she was definitely a champ about the whole process. She's convalescing nicely with the help of her Mom, and we're trying to acclimate the brothers to each other. (More on that to come later, of course.)
I think that when I remember back on that week years from now and think about how we moved into our first house and had a baby within a single week, I'll think about how nuts we were and how crazy it all must have felt. But actually, baby Owen, when you came into the world, it was a pretty peaceful, beautiful morning.
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